BÉA GONZALEZ
The
MAPMAKER’S OPERA
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
HarperCollins Publishers
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London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Canada by HarperCollins Publishers 2005
A paperback original 2006
Copyright © Béa Gonzalez 2005
Béa Gonzalez asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780007207794
Ebook Edition © JUNE 2016 ISBN: 9780007386505
Version: 2016-08-24
For Andrew, who taught me to look up at the sky, and our dear pingüinos, Will and Andre, who bring such joy to our lives.
No soy d’esta tierra |
I’m not from this land, |
Ni en eya nasí: |
Nor was I born here; |
La fortuniya, roando, roando |
Fate, rolling, rolling |
M’ha traío hasta aquí. |
Brought me this way. |
Ar campito solo |
To the fields |
Me voy a yorá; |
I wander to weep; |
Como tengo yena e penas |
Filled with such sorrow and grief |
El arma |
It is only solitude |
Busco soléa. |
I seek. |
Las cosas del mundo |
The things of this world, |
Yo na la jentiendo. |
I just don’t understand |
La mitad de la gente llorando |
Half of the people cry, |
Y la otra riendo. |
While the other half laugh. |
Horas de alegría |
The happy times |
Son las que se van |
How fleeting they are, |
Que las penas se queden |
While the sad times |
Y duran |
Last and last |
Una eternidad. |
An eternity at least. |
Arbolito del campo |
The little tree in the field |
Riega el rocío |
Is watered by dew |
Como yo riego |
Like I water the cobblestones |
De tu calle |
Of your street |
Con llanto mío. |
With the weight of my tears. |
Cuando yo me muera |
When I die |
Mira que te encargo: |
I ask you do this for me: |
Que con la jebra de tu |
Take a strand of your |
Pelo negro |
Brilliant black hair |
Me amarres las manos. |
And bind my hands with it. |
Emilio, a seminarian |
Tenor |
Mónica, governess in the house of Don Ricardo Medina |
Mezzo-soprano |
Remedios, mother of Emilio |
Contralto |
Doña Fernanda , wife of Don Ricardo Medina |
Contralto |
Don Pedro, priest and confidant of Doña Fernanda |
Baritone |
Raimundo , master of the Medina house |
Bass-baritone |
Don Ricardo Medina, head of the Medina clan |
Baritone |
Alfonso, bookseller and Emilio’s uncle |
Bass |
Diego, son of Mónica and Don Ricardo |
Tenor |
El Señor Raleigh, English traveller, friend of Emilio and Diego |
Bass |
Edward Nelson, Diego’s mentor |
Bass-baritone |
Very Useful, Mr. Nelson’s servant |
Baritone |
Sofia Duarte, daughter of Roberto Duarte |
Soprano |
Don Roberto Duarte, Yucatecan hacendado, bookseller |
Bass-baritone |
Gabriela , wife of Roberto Duarte |
Mezzo-soprano |
Doña Laura, mother of Roberto Duarte |
Contralto |
Aunt Marta, Gabriela’s sister |
Mezzo-soprano |
Don Victor Blanco, henequen magnate |
Bass |
Carlos Blanco, son of Victor Blanco |
Baritone |
Rosita, childhood friend of Sofia |
Soprano |
Patricia, friend of Sofia |
Soprano |
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Seguiriya
Dramatis Personae
ACT ONE
Overture
SCENE ONE: As we walk on sacred ground
SCENE TWO: We listen to the woes of Doña Fernanda
SCENE THREE: On a stone bench, a seguiriya
SCENE FOUR: Inside a bookstore on the Calle San Vicente
SCENE FIVE: Sorry her lot
SCENE SIX: The house on the other side of the world
ACT TWO
SCENE ONE: In a Mérida square
SCENE TWO: Two birds
SCENE THREE: In a Mérida bookstore
SCENE FOUR: A hacienda on the outskirts of bliss itself
ACT THREE
SCENE ONE: Inside the oldest cathedral of the New World
SCENE TWO: At the Virgen de Guadalupe Ball
SCENE THREE: Ah! je vais l’aimer
SCENE FOUR: A song with wings
SCENE FIVE: Two birds in hand
THE CURTAIN CALL
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Publisher
ACT ONE
It begins in a once-upon-a-time land, on a remote plain, far from the place we call home. It begins with a dreamy voice, closed eyes, and a glass of warm milk to tame the chill of a too-cold night.
In the background, the first notes sound out, preparing to lure us in.
A seguiriya tonight, perhaps?
“No, something livelier,” she says, “something irrepressible, something joyous.” She stops to think. “Ah, yes, I have it, niños! A bulería sung by the incomparable Lola Flores, all passion, all grit, a voice with which to tame the wind!”
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