The Island of Eternal Love (excerpt)

8/3/2019 The Island of Eternal Love (excerpt)

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DAINACHAVIANO.COM /DAINACHAVIANOAUTHOR @DAINACHAVIANO

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As haunting as it is tantalizing, The

Island of Eternal Love is an ambitious,

provocative, and magical novel that

uncovers the secrets of a woman, a

family and an island ―all in one

spellbinding tale.

Alone in a city that haunts her, far from

her family, her history, and the island

she left behind, Cecilia seeks refuge in a

bar where a mysterious old woman's

fascinating tale keeps her returning night after night. It is a story of

three families from far-flung corners of the world ―from Africa,

Spain and China― that spans more than a century. Within it, a

woman’s suicide in China triggers an unforeseen chain of events; in

Spain, a curse plagues the women of a family, in Africa, a young girl

is ripped from her home and taken to a strange new world. As

Cecilia falls under the story's heady sway, she also pursues the

enigmatic whereabouts of a phantom house that appears and

disappears all over Miami.

Published in 25 languages, The Island of Eternal Love has become

the most translated Cuban novel of all time.

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DAÍNA CHAVIANO

THE ISLAND OFETERNAL LOVE

( e x ce r p t )

Novel












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she clutched the bowl of water just as the woman had

instructed her to do. Above her head, a flickering oil lamp

spewed shadows everywhere, perhaps attracting more spirits

than the old woman had intended to summon.

The assistant, who had left the room moments before,

now returned with a kettle that emitted an almost appetizing

vapor: rue and coriander boiled in wine.

Two have cursed you,

Three will cure you,

The Virgin Mary and the Holy Trinity . . .

The Priestess made the sign of the cross over Angela,

following the prayer’s commands.

If your head should ache you,

Saint Helen won’t forsake you.

If your brow is sweaty,

Saint Vincent’s at the ready.

If your eyes should ail you,

Saint Ambrose will not fail you.

Saint Apollonia can, forsooth,

heal a sore or abscessed tooth.

Blessed Saint Urbain is the man










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to cure your rough and callused hands.

If your trunk with toil is bent,

pray to the Blessed Sacrament.

And if you suffer on your feet,

invoke Saint Andrew, then repeat.

Upon offering the prayer, she snatched the bowl from

Angela’s hands, hurling it into the corner. The water left a trail

of darkness on the wood.

“That’s all, child. Now go with God.”

Angela stood up with her mother’s help.

“No! Not through there!” The Priestess blocked her way.

“You mustn’t step in that water or the curse will return.”

It was already pitch-black outside when they left the

house. Don Pedro had been waiting for them at the rock that

stood some thirty paces away, at the edge of the village that

rose beside the frozen mountain range of Cuenca.

“What happened?” he whispered anxiously.

Doña Clara made a slight gesture. Many years of life

beside the same woman allowed him to understand:

“Everything is resolved, but let’s talk about it later.” For










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months neither he nor Clara had been able to sleep in peace.

Their daughter, a girl who until recently had run happily

through the fields, chasing after all sorts of beasts and birds,

had turned into another person entirely.

First came the visions. Although Don Pedro had been

forewarned, he still couldn’t conceal his surprise. His own wife

had alerted him the very afternoon he proposed to her: all the

women in her family, since time immemorial, had been

shadowed by a certain impish creature named Martinico.

“I started seeing him when I was a girl,” Clara told him.

“And so did my mother and all the women in my family.”

“And if we don’t have any girls?” he asked skeptically.

“The wife of the first born son inherits it. That’s what

happened to my great-grandmother, who was born in

Puertollano and married my great-great-grandmother’s only

son. She wanted to move to Priego, so she wouldn’t owe her

family any explanations.”

The man didn’t know whether to laugh at her or get angry

with her, but his fiancée’s face reflected the gravity of the

matter.










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“It doesn’t matter,” he said at last, when he finally

became convinced that she was serious. “Martinico or no

Martinico, you and I are getting married.”

*****

Although his wife would complain about the invisible

presence, he always thought it was a product of her

imagination. He suspected that the story, so deeply rooted in

her family, made her see something that didn’t really exist.

And in order to avoid what she called “the contagion,” he

made her swear that she’d never speak to the child of her

visionary inheritance, much less tell her tales of imps or any

other supernatural creatures. That’s why he nearly died of

fright the day that Angelita, barely twelve years old, staredfixedly at the shelf where he used to put his vases to dry and

whispered with an air of surprise, “What’s that dwarf doing

there?”

“What dwarf?” her father replied, casting a quick glance

at the shelf.

“There’s a little man dressed like a priest, sitting on that

pile of dishes,” the girl responded, lowering her voice even










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more. Noticing her father’s expression, she added, “Don’t you

see him?”

Pedro felt all the hair on his body stand on end. This was

the confirmation that, despite his precautions, his daughter’s

blood was contaminated with the family’s supernatural curse.

Frightened, he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of

the shop.

“She’s seen him,” he whispered into his wife’s ear.

But Clara received the news joyfully.

“The girl’s a young lady now,” she said.

It wasn’t easy living with two women who saw and heard

what he could not, no matter how he tried. Most of all, it was

difficult for him to accept the change in his daughter. His wife

was already suffering from that mania when they met. Angela,

on the other hand, had been a normal little girl who preferred

chasing birds or climbing trees. She had never paid any

attention to the stories of apparitions or enchanted nymphs

that sometimes made their way through the town. And now

this.










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Clara had a long conversation with Angela to explain who

the visitor was and why they were the only two who saw him.

It wasn’t necessary to ask her to keep the secret. Her daughter

had always been a prudent child.

Only Pedro seemed defeated. Several times his daughter

caught him watching her with a dismayed expression.

Instinctively she understood what was happening and tried to

be more affectionate with him to prove how little she had

changed. In time, the man’s anxiety began to fade. He had

almost grown accustomed to the idea of Martinico the imp just

when everything else started happening.

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The Island of Eternal Love (excerpt)