It is 1952 and Barcelona prepares to welcome its guests. Generalissimo Francisco Franco is happy that the now-devout city, finally cleansed of reds, republicans, separatists and anarchists, will host the Eucharistic Congress. However, a wealthy socialite and widow of a doctor to the city’s elite, Mariona Sobrerroca, has been found brutally murdered in the fashionable upper part of the city. Needless to say, the Generalissimo’s amigos in power in Barcelona do not want an unsolved crime hanging over and spoiling the holy festivities.
Ana Martí is a young reporter for La Vanguardia newspaper. She covers the balls and the baptisms. She describes who’s wearing what and where, but she dreams of being a serious journalist, as her father had once been. She gets her chance when the regular crime reporter falls ill, as much from the adulterated penicillin going around than from what the penicillin was intended to cure.
Ana is delighted. Having previously described Mariona’s satin dress in detail at so-and-so’s wedding, Ana was now describing Mariona’s blood-stained dress at the scene of the crime.
The inspector in charge of the case, no shrinking violet himself in that terrifying police station for any witness, male or female, is not exactly overjoyed that a woman, especially a young woman off the society pages, is covering the case. Mindful of the Eucharistic Congress, he develops a theory of what happened and wants to wrap things up quickly. Unfortunately for him, Ana consults her older cousin, Beatriz, about some letters from the apparent swindler/murderer.
Beatriz is an academic, an expert in language and philology, bur unable to get steady work as she is “suspect”, as far as the amigos are concerned. She had written some articles in support of the Republic when she was young and after the civil war went into exile for a few years. Ana’s journalist father fared worse - he was purged after the civil war and now works in a grocery shop. Ana’s brother fared worse again - he was put in front of a firing squad.
Ana and Beatriz discover, among other things, that Mariona was involved with a man half her age. Their search takes them to the wonderful old National Library of Catalonia (re-christened by the amigos as the Central Library of Catalonia, of course) and it turns out that her dead doctor husband had had a certain lucrative, illegal medical sideline.
As they get closer and closer to unravelling the truth, the danger to them increases more and more. All the more because of their family’s loyalty to the Republic. And because the unravelling is leading to high places. The web around them begins to tighten.
The novel takes many twists and turns. Even the adulterated penicillin has a twist to it. There are corrupt cops, petty thieves, informers, drugs, brothels, kissing cousins and, of course, the famous Boquería market on the Ramblas with scriveners, no less.
The author sets the scene of Barcelona under the Franco dictatorship well, except for the fact that the banning of the Catalan language is not treated. In those days if a policeman heard a person speaking Catalan on a Barcelona street, the person could count himself lucky if the policeman only told him to shut up.
I have one complaint about the title of the novel in English. In the original Spanish the title was Don de Lenguas, or Gift of Tongues in English. Why change it to The Whispering City? The Spanish have the annoying habit of doing this - with movies, as well. For some reason The Sound of Music becomes Smiles and Tears in Spain. Doing this only serves to cause confusion in conversations years later.
I think that there are three categories of people who will like this enjoyable novel: readers who like crime fiction, readers who like politics and lastly, people who like Barcelona. And not necessarily in that order.
Incidentally, the police station on the Via Laietana is still there. It is easy to pick out. It is one of the few buildings in Barcelona where one sees a Spanish flag waving. Locals maintain that if you listen closely on the side street adjoining it you can still hear the screams coming from the basement from the years of the dictatorship.
Frank MacGabhann is a lawyer and commentator
