Como corresponsal para el Economist en Europa Central, J M Ledgard, periodista escocés, leyó por casualidad una escueta noticia en un periódico checo sobre la primera filmación del nacimiento de una jirafa. El artículo aseguraba que la grabación desapareció de los archivos de la televisora estatal después de que la policía secreta eliminara a todas las jirafas del zoológico. Tiempo después, en un pub de Bohemia, un antiguo policía secreto confirmó a Ledgard la noticia y le aseguró que la matanza seguía siendo secreto de estado. Mientras en Afganistán Ledgard se afanaba en vano tras la pista de Osama bin Laden, comenzó a escribir su primera novela: Giraffe. “Deseaba descifrar los hechos, pero más aún los sentimientos”, declaró en una entrevista realizada por Penguin Group. “Busqué a los involucrados, encargados del zoológico, veterinarios, antiguos oficiales de la policía secreta, carniceros, disidentes y especialistas en guerra-biológica”. Giraffe es la historia verdadera de un experimento del estado totalitario que en 1975 terminó en tragedia cuando la manada más grande de jirafas en cautiverio fue exterminada en la República Socialista de Checoslovaquia por órdenes del Politburo. La captura y transportación desde África, así como la intensión de criar una subespecie a la que llamaría Camelopardallis Bohémica fue una utopía del ideal socialista, en cuyo espíritu prevalecía la ambición por producir en masa lo que fuera, “…our socialist mind is good for breeding”, salvo libertad. El ‘momento comunista’, como lo llaman los protagonistas, sirve a Ledgard para construir el ánimo regente de una nación que conmueve desde el sufrimiento. No únicamente a raíz de la ocupación nazi, sino a partir de hechos históricos que desde el pasado atormentan a su gente, como fue la peste de 1713, la guerra de los treinta años y las guerras napoleónicas. El autor se sirve del fenómeno del sonambulismo de Amina, una joven obrera, en una nación de obreros, para elaborar la parálisis del individuo. Consciente de la pandemia Amina afirma: “This is a country of sleepwalkers by day, who drink by night only as a lesser form of sleepwalking”; y sobre la mentalidad cautiva asegura: “I know a cage is something which admits air and light, but no escape”. Emil, protagonista de la elegía, es especialista en hemodinámica, una rama de la física dedicada al estudio del flujo sanguíneo en animales verticales. Snĕhurca, la jirafa líder de la manada, narra su nacimiento en África lo que añade al texto una tono fabular. El nombre de Snĕhurca que en checo quiere decir Blanca Nieves, impone al lector el reto de encontrar a los siete enanos del reparto. Asimismo, tanto por el carácter pastoril, “I step off the beanstalk onto the land, which is made of clouds – is a cloudscape, not a landscape”; como por el fantástico, la obra detenta gran fuerza lírica, “Blood is not open to the sky, it’s journey is a hidden flow, is without light…”.Conviene aguzar el oído para percibir las resonancias históricas que con sutileza quirúrgica provoca el autor. Compelido a aportar imágenes de holocaustos, exterminios, ocupaciones y cautiverios de bestias y hombres, el lector se convierte en coautor. La “Solución Final” que impuso a los nazis una logística complicada, subyace entre otros funestos momentos del pasado, cuando el exterminio de animales de entre 800 y 1600 kg presenta sombrías dificultades al personal del zoológico.Por ser una metáfora lúcida del absurdo, Giraffe es una gema rara, despiadada en la denuncia de la falibilidad de un sistema totalitario y profunda en la contemplación de una búsqueda espiritual. —The communist moment does not demand that I love it, or be awake to it. It asks only that I do not question it —dice Amina. Si el ojo de la jirafa es el más grande en el reino animal y la pasividad, un cariz del mal, hechos que Ledgard enfatiza a lo largo de la novela, “…a giraffe sees the present before any other animal”: ¿en qué convertirán las nuevas generaciones la caída de la Cortina de Hierro? In memoriam M H Thatcher
he beauty of this book is in its details: the elongated pages, the specifics of the characters' lives, and the realism of the setting, but the imaginative prose, so gorgeous in places that it brought tears to my eyes, is what makes it such an astounding novel. The story is at once a novel about animal rights, a meditation on captivity, a political vehicle, and a poem, the intricate themes woven by the distinct voices of several narrators, including a giraffe. The introduction of new narrators was often ingenious, with the dream sequences of one character blending into the waking thoughts of someone new. Amina's voice was particularly compelling in exploring Ledgard's idea of a population of sleepwalkers ready to accept anything without question, without choices to do otherwise, and her dream sequences were breathtaking. I also really loved the first chapter narrated by Jiri, a sharpshooter, and I loved Emil's constant references to fairy tale, folklore, and innocence. Ledgard is uncovering a mystery of the true story behind the slaying of the world's largest captive herd of giraffes, but more than that, he is unveiling the lives of those living behind the Iron Curtain of communist Czechoslovakia. You sleepwalk through the novel, right along with the characters, until a conclusion so extremely graphic as to be truly traumatic for the reader. I would caution readers who are sensitive to violence or animal cruelty to find another novel, although for myself the prose throughout the rest of the novel made it worth the upsetting end.
What do You think about Giraffe (2006)?
In 1975 the worlds largest captive herd of Giraffes was destroyed. This novel follows the giraffes from when they were captured to their final destination in Czechoslovakia. This actually happened and knowing that it makes it quite a depressing story to read. It's also told through the eyes of several characters (all real characters) including one of the giraffes, which I think is what drew me to it in the first place. I found the style of it a bit hard to read sometimes but all in all it was pretty good, depressing but good
—Raven
This is my second attempt at this book; for some reason, the first go-round didn't quite take and I gave up before I'd read 75 pages. I initially was intrigued by this book for the very simple reason that the giraffe is my favorite animal. After discovering that the subject - the slaughter of the giraffe herd in the Czechoslovakian zoo in the 1970s - was true even though the book is fiction (that's not a spoiler - it's mentioned on the back cover of the book) I decided to give it a read; I don't think I would have read it if someone had just made that up. So far - still just under 100 pages in - the book is a little slow. Cold, actually, is the best word I can think to describe it - the book has a very cold atmosphere, so, like most things in cold weather, everything in it trudges along very slowly. That isn't necessarily a bad thing, but if you're looking for a slam-bang thrill-a-minute ride, this is not the book for you.Possible spoiler:Also, I may be the only person in the world who actually enjoyed the chapters that were narrated by the giraffe. I didn't realize the book was going to have multiple narrators: Snehurka kind of threw me at first (like, how does a giraffe in Africa identify Czechoslovakians?), I must admit that I was disappointed when the third chapter switched over to Emil.
—Amy
I picked up this book after seeing the writer compared to W.G. Sebald, who is one of my favorites. While I understand the comparison, Ledgard truly has a unique voice of his own.Like Sebald, fact and fiction intertwine, and in a dismal Europe of decades past, where secrets can destroy as easily as bullets. The novel is based on an incredible true story - in 1975, the largest captive herd of giraffes was slaughtered on the eve of May Day in a provincial Czechoslovakian zoo, and no one knew why. All records were destroyed. The reason may have been the threat of a possible contagion that could have spread and killed cattle and sheep.The story is made more immediate and personal by using several first-person narrators, including one of the giraffes. I know that sounds cheesy, but it's not overdone, and to me, at least, it worked. Symbolism is heavy in this book, yet not heavy-handed, with the giraffes functioning as stand-ins for the victims of a Communist government, who must be destroyed and vanished as their mere existence, their personal freedom, poses an existential threat to a corrupt (and possibly worse, unimaginative) system.Beautiful and evocative writing throughout, without falling into sentimentality, which would have been so easy to do. Giraffe is such a fascinating and horrible story, and a damning indictment of the Communist regimes that cast such a long shadow over Europe in the last century. More than giraffes get destroyed, simply by being witnesses and unwilling participants in their destruction. I am eager to read more of Ledgard's work.
—Ann
