Por: El Rincón de los Libros Olvidados
There is a specific kind of magic that exists in the first chapter of a great dark fantasy novel. It isn’t the magic of fireballs or spells; it is the magic of atmosphere . In the Spanish translation of Neil Gaiman’s modern classic, Coraline y la puerta secreta , the opening chapter— Capítulo 1 —does something remarkable. It takes the mundane, the boring, and the slightly irritating, and slowly, expertly, begins to unscrew the lid from a jar of existential dread. coraline y la puerta secreta capitulo 1
This is the primal state of childhood: the rainy Saturday afternoon where nothing is on TV and your toys are dead. By establishing this profound boredom, Gaiman makes the reader want the secret door to open. We need the escape as much as she does. The centerpiece of Chapter 1 is, of course, the bricked-up doorway in the drawing room. Coraline’s mother shows it to her with the dismissive explanation that it used to lead to the other flat, but now it’s just a wall. Por: El Rincón de los Libros Olvidados There
If you are reading this book for the first time (perhaps with a young reader, or perhaps you are learning Spanish and chose this as your gateway text), do not skip past the slow burn of Chapter 1. It is here that Gaiman, and translator Mónica Faerna, lay the psychic groundwork for the horror to come. The first chapter is almost aggressively dull, and that is the point. We meet Coraline Jones, a "exploradora" (explorer) of her own new home—a creaky, old split-house that has been divided into flats. Unlike the 2009 film adaptation, which gives her a rollicking adventure immediately, the book’s first chapter forces us to live in Coraline’s frustration. It takes the mundane, the boring, and the
In English, the word "brick" is hard. In Spanish, the description of the puerta secreta feels even more permanent. Faerna uses phrases like un tabique de ladrillos (a partition of bricks) and polvo gris (gray dust). The imagery is suffocating.
It is a brilliant anti-climax. Yet, Gaiman plants the seed of the other mother here. The text notes that the hallway beyond is oscuro y vacío (dark and empty), but Coraline swears she can see something moving in the shadows. This is the first lie of the other world. It pretends not to exist. No discussion of Chapter 1 is complete without Mr. Bobo (called el señor Bobo —a name that feels even more ridiculous in Spanish). He lives upstairs and speaks in a broken, frantic whisper about his mice.