A promising--yet frustrating--first novel in which a young American glass-artist in a Spanish town becomes involved with a mysterious Argentine. Glass is Tess Jordan's metaphor for herself, other people, and life: untempered glass shatters from internal stress; she studies it for its shadows, areas of lightness and dark. Hiding her own shadows--a secret affair with her stepbrother that left both emotional and physical scars, and a sense of guilt over the suicide of her stepfather--she is drawn to Javier, once a guerrilla leader in the mountains of Argentina. Their relationship plays out through elliptical conversations and enigmatic interactions: Javier--who may be hunted by agents or may be merely paranoid--sort of leads Tess to his hide-out, which he sort of wanted her to find, and then sort of prevents her from leaving. Various revelations emerge--sort of--but it's hard for any of them to satisfy after much portentous buildup. Eventually, Javier kills a horse; soon thereafter Tess stabs him almost fatally; the bloodletting is cathartic to both as well as to the young brother of Javier's martyred girlfriend. Unfortunately, while Tess is honest, precise and analytical in many of her flashbacks (as when she explores her intellectual response to her sexual initiation), she describes current events and emotions in vague, poetic terms that hide all motivation and resolution from the reader. Obviously talented Bergman writes with admirable cold passion--but her debut is too cryptic for its own good.