Ferran Torrent: Like a sentimental and geopolitical card game

Ferran Torrent (Sedaví, 1951), had he been born in the United States of Truman or Eisenhower and not in the Valencian Country crushed by the reactionary Castilianist boot of Francoism, could have had, like so many American writers of his generation, a double or triple literary career, with the film holding important positions in the field of journalism. The fact of being part of a linguistic-cultural system that is colonially minorised and interfered with – without an audiovisual industry worthy of the name and with precarious journalism – has meant that Torrent has had to dedicate himself almost exclusively to writing novels. Which is good, but it is also a shame. Because reading him it is clear that he has all the virtues of a certain American cinema of classical production and powerfully efficient results: plots that are wrapped but plausible, charismatic characters – even the most despicable ones –, strong and fast dialogues, and also a sense of existential adventure, a sense of spectacle and a sense of spectacle.

The reference to cinema is neither gratuitous nor forced here. The new novel by the Valencian writer, The self that does not die, exudes cinephilia. Or cinematic influences, at least. The plot, populated by all kinds of characters who, in order to survive, have become accustomed to never saying what they really think, much less what they feel (art forgers and KGB and Mossad spies, clandestine communist militants and street informants, celebrities who want to go unnoticed and all-powerful Francoists in hiding), works like a leafy web where geopolitical spy games, erotic-sentimental conflicts and tricks to make money are mixed. To this we must add that the protagonist, Regino, art and document forger, card player and portraitist of high society ladies, is cut from the same cloth as so many characters played by Humphrey Bogart, that is, he is an individualistic, skeptical antihero, with a loving and very unorthodox background. As if that were not enough, the dazzling Ava Gardner – the most beautiful animal in the world, according to the Hollywood publicists of the time – is one of the important supporting characters in the novel.

A plot that is impossible to summarize

One of Torrent's narrative virtues is the ease with which he dares to wrap the skein of the plot and move the pieces of the characters through all kinds of spheres, both in reality - from the underworld to high politics - and in literature - from vaudeville comedy to thriller conspiratorial. Set in Valencia in 1966, The self that does not die has a plot that is impossible to summarize. Regino, an art forger who uses his virtuosity to steal valuable paintings and replace them with fakes, prepares a coup against General Moreno, married to a woman with a turbulent political past. In addition, Regino also takes part in a mission (of uncertain authorship, but with Israelis and Soviets involved) that has to do with art stolen by the Nazis from the Jews, with the hunt for a Nazi protected by Franco and with a singular shipment of drugs. In the midst of all this, Regino – a versatile man, as I have already said – still has time to maintain a torrid love affair with Ava Gardner. The reader might think that this affair between a clever Valencian and a Hollywood star is implausible, but if we take into account that the actress from Valencia is a very clever man, it is not a very clever man. The barefoot countess He became involved with all kinds of crude and vulgar Spanish bullfighters, whose verisimilitude prevails.

It is true that there are passages in which the prose could be more muscularly polished and that there are subplots that are resolved in a schematic or hasty manner, but Torrent perfectly masters the craft of narration. In addition, he knows well the mechanisms of society and of men and women, and the worldly wisdom of a novelist should never be underestimated. The result is a highly entertaining novel in the fullest sense of the word.