Boxwood

Awarded the 1989 Nobel Prize for Literature, Cela, now well on in his eighties, is yet as crafty and craftful as ever. Boxwood, which can perhaps best be described as a non-novel, has none of the structural signposts readers generally expect: there is no exposition, no crux, no denouement. Instead we have a mix of folklore, tradition, superstition, autobiographical snatches, cooking directions, a litany of nautical disasters on the coast of Death—ships from afar with cargoes of oranges, typewriters, iron ore, oil, spices—elements of nature both cruel and beautiful, of man both saint and sinner, whales, witches, mermaids, ghosts, the exquisite, the crass all against the background of Cela's birthplace, Galicia.