It is hard to define ‘postmodernism’, but if someone would ask me what it means I would give them this novel. It deals with questions like: what is truth? Can we observe objectively? Can art help us see a different reality? Can texts convey reality or is it by definition subjective as well?

The plot of Prosopagnosia is not very relevant, but it is an effective device to reflect on the questions above. In short: it is about a mother and a daughter trying to find their way after the father/husband has left them. The daughter is convinced she is destined to be surrounded by ugliness. The mother is in desperate search of guidance and life principles, as she comes to realize that she has always lived without pausing to ponder what she truly believes in and really wants. Their paths cross with that of a famous artist who just came back to Spain from exile in Mexico. The mother, who is a journalist, hopes that an interview with the artist will teach her important life lessons. Good part of this novel consists of the mother’s pondering about how to write the interview and how to capture the artist’s ideas.

Of course, not everyone enjoys this type of literature. Personally, I have to be in the mood for it and I seldom am. Large part of the narrative is metafictional and there are lots of ideas. All the same, it is very readable and not uninteresting.

It can feel quite hard to pin down this novella- as it flits between a mother and her daughter, our grip on reality blurs just as much as it does for the characters themselves. Characters appear and are not who they say they are, but just like the title (the inability to recognise faces, even familiar ones) the book shifts constantly and keeps you at an arm's length.

Whereas I can see how for many people that can be alienating and unenjoyable, I think it lent a kind of disquieting power to the book. It almost does not matter who is who and what is happening- the book instead feels like a surreal short film.

And just like many books from the brilliant publisher Scribe, this book is a shapeshifter that is not ever just one thing.

I received an advanced copy of this book from NetGalley and Scribe in exchange for an honest review.

This is a tantalising book that shape-shifts playfully as it seems to start off as one type of story before metamorphosing into something unexpected and different. In fluent and accessible prose, Hernández (ably translated by Samuel Rutter) deals with big abstract, philosophical topics - the difference between truth and reality, authenticity in art and authority, subjectivity versus a 'reality' which is communally constructed and socially authorised, female self-abnegation versus empowerment - wrapped up in a story that, at first, seems to follow an art/fraud narrative before swerving into something far more challenging and unexpected. Along the way it isn't afraid to blend humour with more sombre elements so that the smart intellectual sharpness co-exists with a droll wittiness that won me over. Definitely a writer to watch.

In 2010 Granta included Sònia Hernández on their list of the best, young Spanish novelists but this is the first novel available in English – although at 85 pages it’s really a novella. This is one of those rare occasions where I ended up really liking a book despite actively disliking a lot of its features. Not only that, I quickly realised I’d approached this with a completely false set of expectations. I think part of that stemmed from the English-language title, lifted from the first of two sections. The Spanish title’s from part two and, I think, sets up an entirely different relationship between story and reader, adding a much-needed, element of dramatic irony, a level of suspense and scepticism that alters how the first half works. Prosopagnosia’s discussed but more as metaphor, tied to wider themes around perception/self-perception.

There are three main characters, a mother, daughter Berta and an older man Vicente Roja. Neither Berta or her mother are at ease with themselves or their surroundings, unmoored after the sudden departure of Pablo, Berta’s father. When a psychology class introduces the notion that reality’s shaped by learnt responses ordering how and what we see, Berta and her friends are so fascinated they invent the prosopagnosia game, desperate to see themselves in some radically different form. The mother becomes equally fascinated by meeting Vicente Roja, who seems to her a sage-like, “moral beacon,” holding the key to the truths she’s seeking. Initially I found the slightly stereotypical nature of Hernández’s characters frustrating, too literal, lacking nuance, but then I realised this piece only gestures towards psychological realism. It’s essentially a novel of ideas, in which the mannered prose, thinly-sketched characters and slender plot, are vehicles for Hernández’s exploration of the role of art and the artist, authenticity, identity, and the performance of the self.

It’s a highly referential piece, drawing on Hernández’s background as an art and literary critic and her interests in writers like Max Aub and Fernando Pessoa, as well as artists and critics, like Juan Garcia Ponce, and notably, Mexican artist Vicente Roja. Hernández ventures into debates that may be familiar from ongoing discussions surrounding literary and artistic hoaxes - which feature heavily here, from Poe to Pessoa. She’s interested in questions around authority, authorship, and identity, whether who speaks is more, or less, significant than what’s spoken; and the persona we may or may not adopt to negotiate the world. She teases out issues around fabrication as a creative act, rather than a negative - not so much about lying as a process of construction. She poses a series of complex, tantalising questions, although they’re also controversial ones in the light of recent anxieties around the Internet and fake news. It’s an uneven book, with some awkward, clumsy aspects but I frequently found it stimulating, thoughtful, and, above all, I liked its ambition. Translated here by Samuel Rutter.

Many thanks to Netgalley UK and publisher Scribe Publications for an arc

" I confused who I wanted to be with who I actually was: a girl who had just received an official piece of paper saying she had been awarded her degree, but who actually thought the paper said that the moment had arrived where everyone would recognise her value, because she had always been such a clever girl"

Special mention to the book cover! This book is a work of art - that which the author is struggling to get out of her system. As a reader, you can appreciate the effort and make some "Ahas" but more or less this exploration of identity (right up Milan Kundera's alley) is a steep affair.

First, I understood the term Prosopagnosia is a condition where one can't recognise faces. That theme is taken for a complete spin with 3 characters - a 15 year old girl who firmly believes beautiful things are not for her, her mother who is a journalist suffering anxiety and an artist who wants to help the girl to see beauty in things. There is also a game where the child and her friend try to change the perspective to see things for real (which I felt was left underexplored).

The book is mostly meditative on the different themes of self and beauty, truth and lies. The mother's low confidence and the artists arguably deep answers and the daughter's demand for a pet are recurring to a point of being repetitive. This is a bit of an irony in a book on changing perspectives. Some of the deep passages went over my head and yet, I did not feel like I missed anything.

I am a fan of abstract writing and hence I was able to appreciate the attempts to make sense of "I". But in this case the dots were maybe too close to spin a yarn around. A great attempt nonetheless.

Note: Thank you Scribe UK and Netgalley for the ARC copy of the book!

Thank you to NetGalley and Scribe UK for an eARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.

First of all the cover of this book is absolutely beautiful.

Prosopagnosia is a book following three persons: 15-year-old Berta, who is struggling in life and school; her journalist mother who is trying to find inspiration and guidance that she cant give herself and the artist they both find their lives entwined with (for better or for worst).

I had a whole long review that I somehow lost but basically, this book is about perspective, misunderstanding and overcoming grief.

Perhaps I didn't quite understand what this book was trying to convey, or maybe something fundamental to the understanding of this book was lost in translation. But what I can say is that for a relatively short book, I had a tough time getting myself to finish it.