Posted by: Lisa Hill | October 26, 2016

The Winterlings (2014), by Cristina Sánchez-Andrade, translated by Samuel Rutter

the-winterlings Cristina Sánchez-Andrade is a prize-winning author from Spain, and in this intriguing novel she explores the haunting secrets that derive from the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939).  If what I read in Giles Tremlett’s Ghosts of Spain (see my review) is right, this makes her writing brave, because there has been a ‘pact of forgetting’ about the Civil War within Spain, with a consensus that outlasted Franco‘s death in 1975 that the past was better left alone.

Two sisters who fled the violence as children, return as adults to the village of Tierra de Chá in Galicia.  It is the 1950s but the villagers are still living a traditional lifestyle, raising chickens, milking cows, and harvesting turnip-greens.  Electricity and plumbing is on the way, but nobody sees the need for a telephone.   After years of teaching the children without interference, Uncle Rosendo is studying for a compulsory exam to get a newly-required qualification and the priest, Don Manuel is still in competition with superstition and gossip.    But until the arrival of sisters the gossip has not included talking about the past… they are called the Winterlings (Las Inviernas) because they bring the chill wind of truth with them.

In a wry, detached style of writing, Sánchez-Andrade fills in the sisters’ back story, always stopping short of revealing their secret.

In the darkness of their bedroom, in their little iron beds, the Winterlings let themselves speak of their secret.
A voice (or is it the wind?) scratches away at the silence.
‘Listen, Sala…’
And the other replies:
‘That day, do you think…’
‘Do you think we did the right thing?’
‘We did what we had to do, Dolores.’
And then after a while:
Saladine lights the oil lamp. She stretches an arm towards the other bed and takes her sister’s hand.
‘What, Dolores, tell me…’
Her skin gives off waves of heat, the light, the beating of their hearts, and the touching of flesh soothes the women. Dolores’ answer lurks in the darkness.
‘Nothing.’ (p.29)

There is an unforgettable scene in Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls, where Pilar tells Robert Jordan about the atrocity in her village.  The villagers round up the local fascists in the church and then release them one-by-one to walk between two lines of jeering village men to the cliff face and their deaths. Spanish readers, for whom the Civil War is recent history in the same way that WW2 is the war our fathers and grandfathers fought in, will read this scene with some idea of what it might mean.  Is what these sisters have done some sort of crime that anyone might commit, or is it something to do with the reason they fled?  And what is the reason for the silence about what happened to their grandfather?

But readers can also see the cruel absurdity of this war and its long-hidden atrocities in Sánchez-Andrade’s portrayal of unsophisticated village politics:

They were times of lies and confusion.  One day was white, and the next was black.  One day, the villagers got up as supporters of the Left, and the next, without any scruples at all, they belonged to the Right.  One day a few of them banned the priests from accompanying the dead to the cemetery, and the next day, the very same people would declaim with fervour to the other that if it didn’t rain in Tierra de Chá, or if a frost settled on the cabbages, it was because nobody prayed and God was upset. And so they’d get to praying. (p.20)

Sánchez-Andrade, is not, however, a cynic.  The dry retelling of village naïveté also reveals the terrible suffering:

People said that if the Popular Front won, the rich folks would have to share their wealth.  The poor folks liked the sound of this.  But once the war started, there was no sharing out of anything; instead hunger and fear became routine.

In people’s homes, anything that could be added to the bread dough that wasn’t poisonous was added: straw, wood chips, toads, and stones.  The village was dying of hunger; no one had anything to eat, and even still, people complained about the bread and how hard it was. Folks lost a lot of teeth trying to chew on it. The Winterlings remembered that sensation too; they’d forgotten many people’s faces, but they remembered the bitter taste of bread. (p.21)

The sisters have been in England, so they have a level of sophistication that is out of place in Tierra de Chá, and one day, Dolores (the pretty one) discovers that Ava Gardner is coming to Spain to make a film and that there are opportunities for doubles to shoot the scenes that she doesn’t want to do (i.e. the nude scenes).  Having come back to Tierra de Chá for a quiet life (and to stay under the radar), Dolores now wants to resume what she thinks is her acting career.  (She had had a bit part in a British documentary about refugee children from the Spanish Civil War).  Saladina (the ugly one) is not just jealous, she is also uneasy about Dolores leaving what she thinks is the safety of the village.

Peopled with idiosyncratic characters,  and written with sly but generous humour, The Winterlings keeps its secrets to the last pages.

That compelling cover design is by Jenny Grigg. I like the sense of strength and determination captured in the movement of the women.

Author: Sánchez-Andrade
Title: The Winterlings (Las Inviernas)
Translated by Samuel Rutter
Publisher: Scribe, 2016, first published 2014
ISBN: 9781925321586
Review copy courtesy of Scribe

Available from Fishpond: The Winterlings


  1. When I was a student I was fascinated by the Spanish Civil War, Orwell’s ‘Homage’ in particular (never read Hemingway). And that also was the strongest part, for me, of the recent Aileen Palmer biog. I should read a Spanish account.


    • You like audio books on the road, don’t you? Try and get hold of For Whom the Bell Tolls read by Campbell Scott. It is absolutely wonderful – I have listened to it four times now and it gets better every time. (I borrowed it from my library, and then I bought my own copy).
      For a Spanish PoV, I’d also recommend In the Night of Time by Antonio Munoz Moline which is about the Civil War from the perspective of an ordinary middle-class man. See


      • Thanks Lisa, I suppose it’s possible that Hemingway is better than the middle brow rom-com I’m listening to today (but he’s so up himself!).


        • He probably was… but FWTBT is a great book…


  2. The book sounds very intriguing, and yet at the same time, since my son has been deployed twice, I find it a struggle to read books about war.

    I was happy to read that you recommended an audiobook. I am a huge fan of them, despite the fact that there is nothing better than curling around a good book. I find that some people feel that ” listening to an audiobook doesn’t count.” (One of my daughters and I go around and around with that discussion). I started listening to them when I had a long commute, and now listen to them when I iron, cook, knit and drive the eight hour round trip that I make to Oregon about twice a month!

    Thank you for the delightful review. I love hearing book recommendations even though my “to read” list is staggeringly long.


    • Hello Heidi, thank you for taking the time to comment.
      I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to have a child in the services today. I am not surprised that you would rather read something to take your mind off it.
      With audio books, I think it’s horses for courses. I also find them enjoyable when driving, but I do think there are some titles that would be difficult to ‘read’ in audio. I’m thinking of books like James Joyce’s Ulysses and other complex books like Falling Man by Don De Lillo. My experience with that one was that I kept having to replay tracks to follow it, and it distracted me from the driving which LOL is not a good idea in Melbourne’s peak hour traffic!
      But for books with a strong narrative drive and a great story to tell, an audio book can be just the thing, especially if the narrator is really good.


  3. Love reviews about translated fiction! cool post


  4. […] comparable with women authors in other cultures.  (I loved Cristina Sanchez-Andrade’s The Winterlings and there must be plenty of others like […]


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