THE INVISIBLE YEARS

Hasbún traces parallel narratives in Bolivia and the U.S.

The first section of this formally ambitious novel is set in Bolivia in the 1990s and follows a group of young adults—especially the film-obsessed Ladislao and Andrea, who struggles with an unwanted pregnancy. It’s worth pointing out that abortion is illegal in Bolivia, complicating matters. Ladislao, meanwhile, pursues an affair with Joan, a teacher with whom he is infatuated. Ladislao is a very particular kind of cinephile; or, as Hasbún notes (via Meyer’s translation): “Cinema is Cassavetes, Jarmusch, and, maybe more than anyone else, Jonas Mekas.” But in the second part, the book switches gears into the first person; the narrator here is an expatriate writer living in Houston who has fictionalized scenes from his youth in his work. It’s in Houston where he confronts “the woman I’m calling Andrea” from whom he has been estranged for 21 years. Present and possibly fictionalized past alternate for the rest of the novel. As the narrator and his old friend catch up, Hasbún generates tension from the way they refer to events we have yet to read about in the 1990s sections—including hints that something very bad is about to befall those characters. Further complicating matters are the present-day discussions of the narrator’s writing, in which Andrea argues that he should focus his attention on someone completely different: a working-class woman he’s calling Rigo who is largely in the background of the Bolivian scenes. Reading this novel in translation adds another meta layer to the proceedings: Andrea comments that “Europeans and gringos love reading about the troubles and miseries of Africans and Latin Americans and anyone else who isn’t them.”

A heady exploration of memory and friendship—and the places where both can fray.