s.penkevich [hiatus-will return-miss you all]'s Reviews > Elena Knows

Caregivers are often the unsung heroes of society, spending their time keeping the vulnerable alive and very rarely getting much credit. These jobs are often difficult and underpaid, but many caregivers receive no compensation such as those caring for elderly parents or mothers. Elena Knows by international superstar crime writer, Claudia Piñeiro from Argentina, is a book that shook me to the core and became an impassioned ode to understanding and supporting these caregivers and those with disabilities. This book is wonderfully translated by Frances Riddle, a translator who I’ve been consistently awed by. Set up like a dark crime story, this short but overwhelmingly powerful novel follows Elena, a woman suffering severely debilitating Parkinson’s, over the course of one day as she attempts to uncover a killer behind her daughter’s tragic death. Ruled a suicide by police when she is found hung from a churchbell, Elena believes she insights into her daughter that seem to point towards foul play. The problem is, she can only move during in short blocks of time following her 4-a-day medicine schedule and society’s tendency for abelism and ageism means her pleas are often ignored. Brutally honest and upfront, this book is a direct punch wrapped up in a taut crime narrative that explodes into a whirlwind of social investigations on aspects of society that take away bodily agency from women and dehumanize those with disabilities.

‘Her time is measured in pills.’

There is a ferocity to this novel that really keeps the reader going. While not much actually happens—Elena travels across the city to someone’s home as well as intermittent flashbacks to her tumultuous relationship with her daughter Rita and the aftermath of Rita’s body being discovered—the structure of the book keeps the tension high as it slowly teases out details. Much like when directors in theater play with the limitations of the stage as an opportunity to create rather than restrict, Piñeiro uses Elena’s physical limitations to tautly structure the novel and as an opportunity for social exploration. The three sections are divided around Elena’s pill times as she is only mobile for short intervals following her pills, filling each section with tension as Elena hopes she can make it to a resting spot for her next pill before her legs stop listening to her.

We begin to notice the lack of accommodations for those with mobility restrictions and the slow-yet-intense pace of the book highlights just how difficult everyday life can be for some. ‘They want you to get exhausted and give up,’ a doctor tells Elena as she is dealing with the labyrinth of medical paperwork in order to afford the prescriptions she needs, ‘don’t let them win.’ Being sidelined and outcast from everyday society becomes much of a burden on Elena, as well as on Rita who is her full-time caregiver in addition to a job at a local school. While Elena often comes across as brash and rather rude, it becomes clear much of this is self-defense in a world all too ready to brush her aside. After finally getting government insurance for the pills she needs to live, she breaks down and cries. When asked why she responds ‘because they were kind.’ Kindness and understanding, it seems, is a rarity and to be shown even a little is monumental for Elena.

These limitations also confine the reader primarily in Elena’s mind, much like she is, which we find to be a rich but tormented interior life with private speech and a constant need to know step by step how to do any action due to the extreme difficulties she has in doing them. ‘Elena knows’ almost becomes a mantra as she recites what she knows over and over again. The title, however, is ironic, as this book becomes more about what, specifically, Elena does not know, and what she as yet doesn’t even know she doesn’t know.

‘She trudges on, one foot in front of the other, despite the fact that no one can restore the king to his throne, or restore life to her daughter, or restore her daughter to her.’

As the crime intrigue progresses, and the plot is very textured and well-crafted making the reader understand why Piñeiro has been so well regarded as a crime writer, social insights slowly seep in adding more pieces to the puzzle that is bodily control and agency. ‘Our bodies do not belong to us,’ Father Juan declares, the priest who discovers Rita’s body and decides to hold mass anyways with her swinging in the rafters so as not to disrupt his schedule (which reminds me of the Raymond Carver story So Much Water, So Close to Home in which men tie a dead body to the dock instead of reporting it so they can enjoy their fishing weekend first). ‘Our bodies belong to God’ he adds, reminding Elena that he condemns Rita’s suicide. This sort of lesson becomes one element in the way people are taught to submit and reject their own agency over their body and choices. ‘The church condemns,’ Father Juan continues as he direct scorn at Elena, ‘any wrongful use of the body that does not belong to us, whatever name you want to give the action, suicide, abortion, euthanasia.’ When she adds Parkinson’s to this list he chastises her, ignoring that an illness could possibly be in control and directing a body against its will. Elena, in his opinion, is less entitled to her own body than the disease. This becomes just one of many ways Piñeiro demonstrates the church having a hold over society.

The rights to bodily autonomy become even more pronounced in the jaw-dropping final section of this novel. Claudia Piñeiro has been a prominent activist for abortion rights in Argentina, which did not legalize until December of 2020, and Elena Knows becomes a powerful look at the lives of those denied options facing a pregnancy not only against their will but from an act of violence and degredation. Dr. Kate Manne has written extensively on bodily control of women, particularly in her book Entitled: How Male Privilege Hurts Women where she examines how misogyny is used to police women’s bodies and also demonize any who reject a patriarchal control:

‘[T]here is a prevalent sense of entitlement on the part of privileged men to regulate, control, and rule over the bodies of girls and women—cisgender and trans alike. And as a direct result of this, those subject to such misogynistic policing are often impugned as moral monsters, even though they’re the ones being made to suffer horribly.’

Elena Knows tackles a situation very much like this and dives into the emotional and physical labor a woman must endure in these situations. The notion of a woman’s body being something anyone else can utilize for their own purposes is so grossly normalized in society that even Elena doesn’t notice she is demanding just that of a character when asking her to be her body since her own can move about easily. ‘She is meant to care for the child, afterward, in a self-effacing manner (and far in excess of the expectations placed on her male counterparts),’ Manne explains, ‘but even if her humanity is not in doubt, it is perceived as owed to others.’ This idea that a body is owed to others and not belonging to oneself permeates this novel, from Parkinson’s affecting Elena at all times to the mother who didn’t wish to be a mother having serious mental health struggles after being physically forced to raise a child she does not want.

This idea is juxtaposed with the plight of Rita, who has to spend all her time caring for Elena. She does it because she loves her mother, even despite their frequent arguments and annoyances with each other, but the mental toll it takes is severe. There is not enough money for her to seek any outside assistance and here we also see how our own agency to our bodies and our lives is affected by our financial status. Elena Knows looks at all the ways outside influences are vying for possession of bodies and the costs of being the victim in these situations.

While this book was not what I expected going into it, Elena Knows has a twist that completely floored me and is more shocking than many whodunnits can accomplish. This is a bold and brave book that takes a searing look into the struggles of those who must be subjected to outside control. Caregivers, people with disabilities, and women in general face these difficulties that society likes to sweep under the rug and not talk about. Claudia Piñeiro lifts up the rug and blows the dust in our faces, making us take a long hard look at society and reflect on the ways we can better accommodate everyone and make society more humane. An absolute stunner, bleak and brutal but so necessary.

4.5/5