Original language: español

Year of publication: 2022

Valuation: between recommendable and highly recommended

The name of Alejandro Morellón has long been among the most prominent in present and future Spanish literature: he was chosen by Granta as one of the best young narrators in Spanish, and his work has received numerous awards, including the most recent, the Ignacio Aldecoa Prize, the Euskadi Prize and the Setenil Prize with his latest book of stories, this one that I review, The worst possible scenario. I believe, however, that Alejandro Morellón is not well known by the general public, for writing, above all, what is still considered a minor genre in Spain today: the short story. Three of his works belong to this genre (The night we fall, The natural state of things and this), although he has also published a novel (Horse be the night) and a collection of poems (a foreign god).

The worst possible scenario (ed. Fulgencio Pimentel, 2022) is therefore situated in the author’s favorite genre, and in which he personally seems to me to be a master, both for the originality of his stories and for the mastery he demonstrates of the technique(s). (s) narrative. I must confess that The natural state of things I liked it a little more, it seemed more risky and experimental (contrary to what its author says in the interview that appears below) because it explores, in my opinion, in a more daring way the limits of the story and the reader’s expectations. In The worst possible scenario We find stories that are a flash, the explosion of a narrative idea that is proposed, develops and closes within a perfect circle – perhaps even too perfect, without protuberances or gaps. This may be a virtue, because in fact each story seems masterfully finished and closed on itself, but it also takes away, in my opinion, some risk and originality from the whole.

There are, moreover, several recurring ideas or themes that give unity to the collection of stories. The first is, as the title itself indicates, the idea of ​​cataclysm, of catastrophe, of the end of the world (or of a world, at least). In some stories, these are literal cataclysms, as in “Birds that sing the future”, the story that opens the book and which is also the origin of its very curious cover; or in “Every house is a tomb”, in which the characters face an apocalypse of uncertain origin). In other cases, it is the end of a story, a relationship or a life, as in “Some truths about the world in which you have had to live”, in which a woman discovers her husband’s infidelity, which makes her leads him to question practically everything he knows or thinks he knows, or in “Teddy Bear”, in which two brothers believe they have found a bear in Alaska that is the reincarnation of Elvis.

Another recurring theme is also that of the hidden or repressed: that which we do not show to the public or even to those closest to us, but that lives in us; It can be a fetish that is difficult to understand, as happens in “Because of what I know about my husband”, or a collective past that we have wanted to bury and forget, but that refuses to disappear, as in “The house of your dreams”.

Despite this thematic unity, however, the author’s effort to diversify the techniques, voices and formats of the stories is evident. Thus we have some narrated by a “classic” omniscient third person, but also stories in the first person, in an unusual second person, in direct style, or even in the form of theatrical scenes, like that kind of mutant story that is “Sentimental punk”.

The absurd and even eschatological humor, on the other hand, is constant in all the stories, although it stands out particularly in some such as “The Heroic Impulse”, in which a hard-working steward tries to sell lottery tickets to terrified passengers in the midst of potentially catastrophic turbulence ( I find it impossible not to think about wild stories, especially, obviously, in its first part); or the last one, “The Magic Mountain”, which is about, well, a huge mountain of shit that appears one day in the middle of a park, for no apparent reason. In “Another Minute of Silence”, the footballers are being murdered one by one, but the narrator refuses to give up his dream, even if he risks his life for it… The exception would be “Opennheimer” (I imagine the story is earlier to the film, and the theme obviously has nothing to do with it), in which the birth of a baby in tragic circumstances, narrated in the form of musical movements, is combined with the memory and image of the first atomic bomb – a theme that It doesn’t leave much room for humor.

As you can see, it is true that there is no shortage of references pop mentioned on the back cover (such as furbystelevision shows about house remodeling, football or superhero comics, series or movies), the truth is that the book has a corrosive and desacralizing spirit that is closer to the punk that of pop. Not all the stories seem to me to be equally original or successful, naturally (although there are none that clash with the good general level), and precisely this one that I have just mentioned seems to me to be one of the least original, as accustomed as we are to reading about beings. (meta)humans with superpowers of very diverse types. In any case, it is undoubtedly a more than remarkable volume of stories, which makes you smile or even laugh, which causes restlessness or anguish; a book, in short, that confirms the high expectations placed on its author.

Interview with Alejandro Morellón

Santi: This is a book that seems to talk a lot about endings: the end of life, the end of humanity, the end of the world. Has the world situation (the pandemic, the war(s), the climate crisis) served as inspiration, or at least created a certain state of mind to write this book?

Alejandro Morellón: It is true that this is a book with the soul of prophecy, that is, that in some way it ventures to narrate an ending but it also works as a warning. Imagining an ending often helps us correct or prevent the course of events, or at least so that we are not caught by surprise. The pandemic, the wars, the climate crisis, are indicative that we are not doing something right and, as happens to the protagonist of “Every House is a Grave”, as they appear to us, an awareness of our current state is generated. .

S.: Apart from this inspiration in the (distressing) situation of the world, some stories would also fall into the line of “(post)apocalyptic fiction.” Is that a genre that interests you or that has inspired you? Would you recommend any author/work specifically?

AM: For recommending one that is not usually among those always mentioned: the novel The land remains, by George R. Stewart. An unfairly forgotten classic of post-apocalyptic fiction.

S.: Another recurring theme of the stories in the book would be that of the hidden, the repressed, the unspeakable, both on an individual and collective level: the sexual perversions of each person, but also the Nazi or fascist apology that now resurfaces. Do the world and people have a dark “B side”?

I like a phrase by María Zambrano that says: you write about what you don’t talk about. For me, writing is that space in which the unnameable takes shape and manifests. Through imagination, external and internal monsters are represented from an understanding, from reflection and distance. We all have a B side, because we are a product of our circumstances, and circumstances are very variable. We are what happens to us.

S.: On the back cover it says that you present a “clearly pop look” in these stories, but I also think that some stories have a punk soul (in fact one is titled “Sentimental punk”), which is much more corrosive than the pop. Would you say that the two things are combined in your stories?

AM: I feel closer to punk than pop in my stories. Maybe he used pop to make punk stronger, to enhance the contrast. What is less appropriate than a Furby to predict the end of the world?

S.: The book experiments with different narrative techniques (polyphonic stories, direct style, first or third person narration…), but above all it seems to be a book focused on the pure pleasure of telling. That is to say: each story proposes an idea, and presents it briefly and directly. Was that your intention or your motivation when writing them?

I wanted to write a book with independent stories that were very varied in terms of themes and style, but that at the same time had a cohesive element, the same essence, which in this case is given to us by the title. “Worst case scenario” refers to the worst situation that a person may experience at any given time, whether it is a global or personal misfortune.

S.: In what sense would you say that this book represents an evolution or a change in relation to The Natural State of Things, your previous book of stories?

A.M.: The worst possible scenario It is a more risky book because it tries to combine two a priori irreconcilable elements: humor and tragedy, absurdity and melancholy, tenderness and desolation. I think there is more work with the atmosphere and with the characters. The natural state of things It is a more allegorical book, which works more on the idea itself, on the event, than on the permeability of the idea.

S.: In your narrative (the one that I know so far) something that abounds is imagination and the fantastic. Do you think that these elements (the fantastic, the supernatural, what goes beyond realistic aesthetics, the creation of alternative worlds…) are undervalued in Spain? Also the genre of the short story, let alone the micro-story, is highly undervalued in relation to the novel.


AM: Curiously, in the audiovisual field, fantasy and science fiction are more popular than ever. As for the literary scene, at least in what I see in Spain, the supernatural is still undervalued. As for the story, it is clear that there is an absolute hegemony of the novel (and especially for a certain type of novel) but that is why we must vindicate the story, or even the short novel, which seems to me to be the most wasted format.

S.: Finally, the book won the Euskadi literature award last year. How was receiving this award? Did you expect it or was it a surprise? Has this award, and the others the book has received, made the book reach more readers?

Since I don’t have networks, I can’t really know the reach of my books in terms of sales, so I couldn’t tell you, but I’m very happy that the book has done so well in terms of awards. In some way, the awards are an endorsement for the book and my career, and also a reminder that behind the book there is a community of readers who value it.

Source: https://unlibroaldia.blogspot.com/2024/02/resena-entrevista-el-peor-escenario.html

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