Asleep in the Sun - This short, crisp Adolfo Bioy Casares nuthouse novel (67 chapters in less than 200 pages) should come with a warning: beware the booby hatch, fear the funny farm, look out or you’ll wind up in the loony bin.
I know, I know, hardly politically correct but such language is very much in keeping with the spirit of the book where men and women “had to be put away” for no more compelling reason than in certain Buenos Aires neighborhoods sending your spouse to the madhouse amounted to a current fad.
Fantástico Buenos Aires. Must be something in the maté everyone drinks to make their imagination dance the tango. To add a dash of local color, the street art I’ve included here is from the fair Argentine city.
Other than a few pages at the end, the entire book is Lucio Bordenave writing a long letter to his friend. Poor Lucio! He dearly loves his wife Diana and regrets sending her off to undergo a new treatment hatched by psychiatrists at the local insane asylum. But it appeared to Lucio to be sound reasoning at the time - after all, a dog trainer by the name of Professor Standle advised psychiatric intervention since Diana couldn’t make up her mind which dog to bring home for a pet, couldn't even decide after multiple visits to his dog kennel. Oh well, Lucio has to live with his decision.
But not long thereafter, as bad luck would have it, events come full circle: that letter Lucio is writing his friend is being written after Lucio is locked up in a padded cell on the fifth floor of a bughouse. Watch out for those doctors with their injection needles, Lucio! You just might wind up on the operating table as part of an experiment that usually only happens in horror films or tales of the fantastic.
Speaking of the fantastic, Adolfo Bioy Casares had none other than Jorge Luis Borges for a mentor. I can detect Borges' influence on the author - this pithy novel is so well written and tightly constructed it is a close cousin to one of the master's longer tales. But let me tell you folks, Asleep in the Sun is wacky and screwball with an unexpected jaw-dropping twist at the end.
Not one more word about plot other than saying I was reminded at points of the Mad Hatter's tea party. Rather, to convey a sense of what Lucio must contend with, here's several telling snapshots:
Our nervous narrator lives with his wife’s family in a close-knit Buenos Aires neighborhood. But once inside, he’s subjected to a continual stream of aggravation, arguments and attitude - in a very real sense Lucio is a prisoner in his own home. Ever since Lucio lost his job at the bank, he spends more time in his watchmaking shop. But he can’t get away from the noisy, nosy neighbors. Complaining about all the noise is useless. His father-in-law tells him: “Normal boys express themselves by setting off firecrackers, ripping open cat’s bellies and fist-fighting.”
When “the misses” (the way Lucio refers to his wife) is bouncing off the walls in the rubber room at the ward, he brings home a dog also named Diana, a wonderful, playful pet with such an affectionate heart, a gentle, agreeable companion. If only humans could be so affectionate and agreeable . . . hmmm, maybe something can be done about that.
An old snarling relative, Ceferina, lives in the house as does Adriana María, Diana’s sister, a woman who looks very much like Diana except for different color hair. When Diana is locked away, one night Adriana María comes after Lucio in his bedroom and tells him she’s a real tiger. Lucio rejects her offer and several days later is treated to Adriana María’s fury: “I always thought you were more of a man, but I swear, now I understand my sister and I even sympathize with her and I congratulate her with all my heart for going after the dog trainer.” No exactly the family harmony a high-strung man like Lucio is looking for.
When Diana finally returns home, Lucio is all tears and kisses. But there are those other members of the family that must be dealt with. During one holiday get-together, Lucio and Diana go out to join others like “two Christians facing the lions.” It doesn’t take long before Adriana María lashes out at her sister. Diana’s father, Don Martín, becomes furious and rails at daughter Adriana María, “First you tell me what’s the big idea talking that way to my Diana, who just got out of the nuthouse?” Ah, family. Such sensitivity.
What I’ve noted here does not cover the last dozen or so chapters following Lucio being jabbed by a needle and waking up in a white room in a bed with white iron posts. Then much of the fun really begins. There’s Dr. Samaniego and Dr. Rivaroli and luscious nurse Paula who assures Lucio she is on his side. Lucio reacts to the head doctor when certain revelations are made: “You’ve lost your sense of decency. Didn’t they ever tell you that you shouldn’t mess around with people like that? I’m telling you. You think you’re a great man and you’re a common merchant of bodies and souls. A butcher.”
What does it all mean? I urge you to read this overlooked classic to find out. But as you are reading please keep in mind what the Doormouse said.
Adolfo Bioy Casares, 1914-1999
"I recall those last days with true apprehension. They reappear in my mind enveloped in a strange light, as if they were views or paintings of a nightmare in progress where the whole world, the children and the people I bear closest to my heart, suddenly pursue some incredibly evil design." - Adolfo Bioy Casares, Asleep in the Sun
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