Born in Canada in 1936, a family of Scottish origin radicatissime (one might say, a clan) Alistair McLeod is a storyteller from the extraordinary talent that was discovered with a collection of short stories The lost salt gift of blood . Title a bit 'complicated that could lead to some new age thinking, but instead lives in the wake of old songs, the seascapes of Cape Breton and Newfoundland, and the bitter life in a rural area hard, harsh, sometimes, ruthless. Stories that have been celebrated by Joyce Carol Oates ("In clear prose Alistair McLeod is found throughout the musicality of traditional ballads, the whole mystery of life and death ") as Alice Munro (" It 's really difficult to infuse the magic in the writing and the magic he is capable of Alistair McLeod "). If we add the fact that Alistair McLeod has been compared from time to time to Ernest Hemingway, William Faulkner and Mark Twain, you will understand why The lost salt gift of blood and Calum Red two books are not to be missed. A fortiori, Calum Red . It 's the story of a clan that moved to Canada from Scotland, led by founder, Calum Red , in fact. For generations the story of McDonald explains the two coasts and was rebuilt in memories, in memory, the time seems to flow inexorably over their lives. From the medieval battles mines (more or less) the modern saga is reconstructed in the dialogue between two brothers, Alex and Calum, who lives led on different paths, perhaps because "it is sometimes difficult to choose which things to leave in the most touching unfit. " In their speeches are shallow emotions and segments of the past, but also a complex language processing result of several centuries of migration, missions, songs, stories, encounters and clashes. Tell Calum Red : "In the barracks of the mine at night you could hear the men of their dreams in different languages. Sometimes words shouted in Portuguese or Italian, Polish or that it was the language of the country they came from. There were shouts of encouragement or warning or fear and sometimes they were the sweetest expressions of affection or love. No one knew what to say except those who shared a kind of common past. We, too, dreamed of, the oldest in Gaelic, and even the French Canadians had their own dreams. And our brothers in South Africa said that the Zulu were talking in his sleep. " These are the rhythms of language, forms of sentences ("The words themselves were the most important of their meaning"), the time that Alistair McLeod said the story, the dialogues to answer the question that's in the depth of the foundations of Calum Red : "We never think, the way you talk, the language of the heart and tongue of the head?". With this wonderful novel is not only articulated a clear response Alistair McLeod, concrete and open horizons in the same ocean, but it is confirmed among the (few) literary surprises of recent years.
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