
The Spanish title Distancia de rescate literally means “Distance to rescue”, more commonly translated as “rescue distance”. The idea of worms in the body is disturbing and discomforting in any language, and is part of what makes the opening exchange between David and Amanda so compelling and ominous, but the Spanish has an extra pull to it that, due to the constraints of the language, the English translation doesn’t pull off quite as well. On a purely phonetic and phonological level, gusanos is more sinister and slippery than worms. Some of that probably has to do with the fact that I read the English after, and already knew the ending, but part of it was simply the language.Īs an easy example, let’s look at los gusanos, the worms. However, eerie as Fever Dream may be (and trust me - it’s definitely eerie) the English text simply didn’t grasp me in its clutches the way the Spanish did. Staff writer Jia Tolentino of The New Yorker referred to “ The Sick Thrill” of this text, and she wasn’t wrong. David’s voice guides the text, in that the majority of what we read is a stream of consciousness coming from Amanda, that is interrupted by David’s interjections, which lead the text in a particular direction toward where he wants it to go, to discover the source of los gusanos or the worms. The text is a conversation between a woman, Amanda, and a young boy, David. It plays with perspective in a manner that I find utterly fascinating and utterly disconcerting. I’m not one for beating around the bush, so I have to say right off that this book is weird. That might sound complicated, but I can make it work. My review here is unique compared to the others I have done on this website because it is actually a review of both texts. I was delighted to discover that this excellent novel also has an excellent translation - Fever Dream, translated by Megan McDowell. The best thing about specializing in literature is reading great books for class, and Samanta Schweblin’s Distancia de rescate is no exception.
