Boxes, clothes, and the dead form a common thread in the stories of Samanta Schweblin’s Seven Empty Houses (2015, tr: Megan McDowell, 2022) which invite us into moments of the domestic uncanny where exteriors are just masks and inside lurks worries, arguments, and unresolved traumas.
In the opener, None of That, a woman and her mother drive, for inscrutable reasons, around more affluent neighbourhoods looking at the houses until the elder becomes somewhat unhinged and enters one house, taking an object with sentimental value to the owner. The story ends at their own house, where boxes are stacked, though it seems physical storage, and why we hold on to things, is a way in to explore mental baggage.
More boxes appear in Two Square Feet, a story focused on the liminal existence of a woman, recently returned, and still unpacked, from an unsuccessful stay in Spain, sent out to find aspirin for her mother-in-law. The city has changed in her absence and with her journey into the night she comes to view her space in the world.
By far the largest piece, to which the others pale, is the central story (Breath from the Depths), which sees a woman, Lola, packing her life away into boxes. It’s all part of a plan that involves classifying what matters and preparing her husband for her death. What starts off as a soon becomes a breathless tale, increasing its tension, and the helplessness of Lola as she accelerates further into some form of dementia. Schweblin’s delivery of paranoia hits the mark as Lola’s world shrinks, words fail her, things become repetitive to those around her even if they feel new to her. And somewhere in the mix there’s a couple of dead sons.
Lola’s story isn’t the only one with a dead son as It Happens All the Time in This House sees a man unable to discard clothes that are no longer necessary. His ongoing grief sees him retrieve the garments every time they are thrown away. Losing clothes is at the heart too of My Parents and My Children, which sees parents happily shed theirs, with uncanny drama. Most successful is An Unlucky Man, which subverts expectations on where it may be going, but still leaves uncertainty, as a young girl goes with a stranger to procure underpants after she gave them away in a family emergency.
The closing story, Out, sees another woman head out onto the streets of the city following an argument with her partner. When she returns, after an encounter with a man experiencing an issue in his own relationship, it’s time to say something but what this is remains unsaid. And it’s what’s unsaid or where Schweblin’s gaze doesn’t go, that makes these stories unsettling, leaving us, like nosy neighbours, wanting to know more. However, it’s likely we’ll tattle more on the central novella than the others.