To Where Everything Constantly Shifts

Forming the other half of the Southern Cone is Argentina. Like most of its Latin American neighbors, Argentina has developed a vibrant, diverse, and colorful culture that has captivated people around the world. It has a strong and passionate football tradition, with its national team having won the FIFA World Cup three times and having the opportunity to add another title. This rich footballing tradition has produced legendary figures such as Diego Maradona and Lionel Messi, two of the greatest icons not only of Argentine football but of the global game. Football culture is deeply embedded in Argentine society and has helped define the nation’s identity. Argentina is also the birthplace of tango, a passionate and globally celebrated dance. The country is further blessed with natural wonders, such as the Andes Mountains, home to Aconcagua, the highest peak outside Asia. Its Patagonia region features glaciers, ice fields, and windswept plains, and it continues to gain global recognition as a premier tourist destination.  

Argentina’s diversity and colorful culture have provided rich material for its writers. It has a strong literary tradition that, like those of most of its neighbors, began to take shape during the colonial era. Early Argentine literature comprised religious texts, travel chronicles, and historical accounts rooted in Spain’s literary traditions. Over time, however, Argentine literature diverged from its Spanish origins and developed a distinct identity. During the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, Argentine writers increasingly embraced a more authentic and uniquely Argentine voice, helping establish Argentine literature as one of the most influential bodies of writing in the Spanish-speaking world. Over the succeeding decades, Argentina produced several literary giants, including Jorge Luis Borges, Julio Cortázar, José Hernández, Manuel Puig, and Adolfo Bioy Casares. Borges compiled an extraordinary literary résumé and was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature several times.

In the contemporary period, Argentine literature continues to thrive through writers such as César Aira, Mariana Enriquez, and Samanta Schweblin. Their works have gained international recognition and earned numerous accolades. They are joined by Andrés Neuman. Born to Argentine émigré musicians, Neuman grew up in Spain, where he continues to live. His early works consisted primarily of poetry and short stories, but he has become best known for his novels. At the age of twenty-two, he published his debut novel, Bariloche. It was a finalist for the Premio Herralde and was selected by El Cultural, the literary supplement of the national newspaper El Mundo, as one of the ten best novels of the year. The novel earned him recognition within Spanish literary circles, and even the renowned Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño took notice of both him and his potential. Bolaño went on to describe Neuman as one of the writers who would lead twenty-first-century literature. It marked the beginning of what would become an illustrious literary career.

When I was young, because I was young once like you, I heard many organ grinders play, and I can assure you no two tunes ever sounded the same, even on the same instrument. That’s how it is, isn’t it? The less love you put into things the more they resemble one another. The same goes for stories, everyone knows them by heart, but when someone tells them with love, I don’t know, they seem new.

Andrés Neuman, Traveler of the Century

The rest, as they say, is history. However, it took some time before Neuman gained the attention of Anglophone readers. His fourth novel, El viajero del siglo, was originally published in 2009. It was translated into English as Traveler of the Century in 2013, making it his first novel to be translated into English. Traveler of the Century transports readers to the fictional German city of Wandernburg, located between the historic states of Saxony and Prussia. The story is set in the nineteenth century, a pivotal period in European history, with the continent still reeling from the effects of the Napoleonic Wars. The novel opens with the introduction of Hans, the titular traveler. As his carriage approached the city—and he could already see it through the window—his driver could not tell him when, or even if, they would arrive. He eventually reached the town, where Hans planned to spend the night at a local inn before continuing his journey to Dessau, his final destination. Hans was no ordinary wanderer. He was also a translator.

As a wanderer, Hans never planned to stay anywhere long, as “he preferred to think about his next journey.” However, Hans would soon discover that Wandernburg was also no ordinary overnight town. It was a town that captivated both travelers and locals for its charm. Time had seemingly stopped, and no one had to proclivity to move beyond Wandernburg. Entering Wandernburg was easy, but leaving it was difficult. Hans missed the carriage out of town and decided to stay another day at the inn run by Herr Zeit (Mister Time). What was supposed to be an overnight stay kept extending his stay. Before long, Hans started to build his routine. He also got acquainted with a motley crew of interesting characters, including the old organ grinder who lives out in a cave. Every day, he plays his organ in the market square, hence his nickname. The market square was not only the center of the city’s life, but it was also the center of the story. Hans was also fascinated by the old organ grinder’s dog, Hans. Over time, Hans and the old organ grinder’s friendship started to grow through shared walks beyond the city.

Wandernburg proved to be an enchanting city that serves as home to established families and wanderers like Hans who were caught along their way elsewhere. A blend of lush stretches of farmland and a handful of towering factories, Wandernburg holds a hypnotic appeal over its inhabitants and even the casual travelers. With each turn of the street, it fascinates travelers, as they are not always where they were. When Hans woke up after her first night in the city, he found that from one day to the next, the streets did not seem to be in the same place they were the previous night. Álvaro, a Spanish merchant Hans befriended, told him that it was impossible to know exactly where Wandernburg is on the map. The city lives up to its name; wandern is the German for wander. Apparently, it is a city that always changes. Even its geographical association was tricky as it is situated between Prussia and Saxony. Hans soon discovers that time functions differently here; it seems to have stood still.

The locals are content simply to drift through the routines of daily life. They find comfort in the familiarity of their customs, dances, and church services. They rarely look beyond their homeland, remaining largely indifferent to the tumult of the world outside the city—a fitting attitude in a story set in post-Napoleonic Germany. Hans also observed how the locals eagerly hurry to bed when it gets dark. Gradually, he establishes his own routine. Possessing a translator’s reflective disposition, Hans seeks to decipher the city’s enigmatic atmosphere. As the seasons pass, the city becomes host to Hans’ own introspections. He also finds himself increasingly immersed in local affairs. As he navigates the town’s social circles, he is eventually invited into the home of Herr Gottlieb, a retired tea and textile importer and one of the city’s most respected citizens. There, Hans becomes acquainted with Professor Mietter, a conservative academic, with whom he engages in lengthy discussions about philosophy, history, and literature..

Farewells are so strange. There’s something terrifying, deadly, about them, and yet they awaken a desperate urge to live. Perhaps farewells create new territories, or they send us back to the only territory that truly belongs to us, that of solitude. It is as though we needed to go back there from time to time, to draw a line and say: I came from here, this was me, what sort of person am I?

Andrés Neuman, Traveler of the Century

As Hans immerses himself in a city that is not his own, one question lingers: what draws wanderers to Wandernburg to the point that they abandon their original purpose? Beyond its perpetually shifting streets, the city seems to deliberately thwart every attempt to leave. As Hans discovers, his plans to depart are repeatedly frustrated by missed carriages, newly formed relationships, and even engrossing philosophical debates. As the story unfolds, the city is gradually demystified. Its elusive geography emerges as both literal and metaphorical. Wandernburg constantly changes its orientation, with even its own inhabitants unable to determine its exact location. The city thus becomes a reflection of the characters’ internal struggles. Finding one’s way through Wandernburg mirrors the struggle to orient oneself in a world where personal longing and societal expectations are in constant conflict. These struggles are not confined to the city itself, as the characters grapple with the same tensions in their own lives.

Wandernburg ultimately emerges as a microcosm of the individual’s search for identity and belonging. The mutable city becomes a stage upon which personal and political boundaries are continually tested. Likewise, the very definition of home remains provisional. Physical boundaries—whether they separate nations, lovers, or even the self—begin to dissolve. Once again, Hans’ experiences in the city underscore this theme. Amid his introspections and intellectual pursuits, Hans finds himself romantically involved with Sophie Gottlieb, whose Friday salon draws him into the city’s vibrant intellectual life. The salon is one of the novel’s central settings, serving as a gathering place for diverse discourses. There is, however, a complication. Sophie—a brilliant, sharp-minded, and strong-willed hostess—is already engaged to Rudi Wilderhaus, the city’s wealthiest and most prominent bachelor. Nevertheless, Hans finds in Sophie both an intellectual equal and the possibility of a forbidden romance.

The budding romance between Sophie and Hans unfolds through conversations spanning politics, poetry, philosophy, and the nature of language itself. Interestingly, despite the novel’s historical setting, the ideas and debates often feel strikingly modern. Like the setting itself, time becomes a construct. It remains fluid, allowing Neuman to expand the scope of his philosophical inquiries. Sophie herself embodies this timelessness. Despite being in her early twenties, she is intellectually and sexually liberated, making her a figure who would have been unlikely for the period. Hans is likewise not a typical male protagonist of the era. Rather than embodying conventional masculinity, he is a passionate translator and wanderer, perpetually restless. His passions, however, remain somewhat abstract. Even so, their contrasting personalities and the romantic tension between them enrich the story. Because of Sophie’s betrothal and the weight of societal scrutiny, they are denied the freedom to express their love openly.

This makes the novel’s romantic overtones even more bittersweet. Astutely woven into the novel’s philosophical inquiries, Hans and Sophie’s relationship is cultivated through secret letters. These letters are simultaneously playful, philosophical, and yearning. They also become an intimate space where the two can freely express themselves without society’s judgment. As their romance deepens, it becomes both liberating and dangerous. Yet there are forces they must confront, especially as the threat of exposure intensifies. Sophie’s engagement looms over their relationship, threatening the sanctuary they have created. Ironically, neither Hans nor Sophie is certain where their romance will lead. Neither can provide a definitive answer about its future. This uncertainty is yet another manifestation of the internal struggles that permeate the novel. It is also another reflection of Wandernburg’s very nature.

It’s the same with books, you see mounds of them in bookshops and you want to read them all, or at least to have a taste of them. You think you could be missing out on something important, you see them and they intrigue you, they tempt you, they tell you how insignificant your life is and how tremendous it could be.

Andrés Neuman, Traveler of the Century

Traveler of the Century is further enriched by several compelling subplots seamlessly woven into its lush narrative. As the city grapples with questions of identity and progress, a series of sinister crimes disrupts daily life. A masked rapist stalks the streets, terrorizing young women. He embodies the city’s hidden terrors and suppressed violence, reminding readers that beneath the veneer of civility lurk trauma and predation. The investigation into these crimes, led by a comic father-and-son police duo, further exposes the duplicity and social hypocrisy that permeate the city. Meanwhile, Lisa Zeit, the innkeeper’s daughter, comes of age over the course of the story. Secretly, Hans teaches her to read and write. At the same time, the friendship between Álvaro de Urquijo and Hans deepens. Álvaro’s love affair with Elsa, Sophie’s maid and confidante, parallels that of Hans and Sophie. Like Sophie, Elsa is a woman ahead of her time. Ambitious and driven, she teaches herself to read in secret, seeking a future detached from the drudgery of domestic service.

These subplots, ironically, underscore the struggles of forging one’s own path. Societal expectations continually constrain the characters. Still, the novel remains fixated on one central subject: translation. Hans is a translator, and during his stay in the city, he works on what he hopes will become his magnum opus. The novel vividly captures the intricacies of translation. Hans and Sophie’s letters, for instance, are filled with literary allusions and innuendos, yet they also form the narrative’s emotional backbone. Translation becomes the means through which the characters reach toward one another. It also serves as a way for them to pursue understanding while recreating themselves. Yet perfect translation remains beyond reach; some words—and even emotions—resist faithful rendering. Translation thus mirrors the novel’s central paradox: to love and to create is to risk misunderstanding. In doing so, it blurs physical boundaries, suggesting that staying or leaving is sometimes less about place than about what keeps us there. For the characters, desire, regret, and hope anchor them to the city.

Shortlisted for the 2014 International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award, Traveler of the Century is a labyrinthine novel that explores a remarkable breadth of ideas. Beneath the border crossings it examines lies a deeper meditation on identity, belonging, love, language, and the elusive notion of home. The ever-shifting Wandernburg emerges as the novel’s defining metaphor—it is a place where certainty is deferred and every journey takes different shapes. Its ruminations on history, romance, philosophy, and translation are profound, transcending both time and place. Neuman’s prose is elegant, intellectually stimulating, and emotionally resonant. Ultimately, Traveler of the Century is less concerned with arriving at definitive answers than with embracing the act of searching itself. Like Wandernburg, life is never entirely fixed or fully understood. It is a continuous journey of movement, negotiation, and reinvention, where the search for meaning proves more enduring than any destination.

When I was young, because I was young once like you, I heard many organ grinders play, and I can assure you no two tunes ever sounded the same, even on the same instrument. That’s how it is, isn’t it? The less love you put into things the more they resemble one another. the Tame goes for stories, everyone knows them by heart, but when someone tells them with love, I don’t know, they seem new.

Andrés Neuman, Traveler of the Century
Book Specs

Author: Andrés Neuman
Translators (from Spanish): Nick Caistor, Lorenza Garcia
Publisher: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux
Publishing Date: 2012 (2009)
No. of Pages: 564
Genre: Literary, Historical, Adventure

Synopsis

Searching for an inn, the enigmatic traveler Hans stops in a small city on the border between Saxony and Prussia. There, he meets an organ-grinder in the market square and immediately finds himself enmeshed in an intense debate – on identity and what it is that defines us – from which he cannot break free.

Indefinitely stuck in Wandernburg until his debate with the organ-grinder is concluded, he begins to meet the various characters who populate the town, including a young freethinker named Sophie. Though she is engaged to be married, Sophie and Hans embark on a relationship that defies mores about female sexuality and what can and cannot be said about it.

Traveler of the Century overflows with discussions about philosophy, history, literature, love, and translation. It is a book that looks to the past in order to have us reconsider the conflicts of our present. The winner of Spain’s prestigious Alfaguara Prize and the National Critics Prize, Traveler of the Century marks the English-language debut of Andrés Neuman, a writer described by Roberto Bolaño as being “touched by grace.”

About the Author

Andrés Neuman was born on January 28, 1977, in Buenos Aires, Argentina, to a violinist and a hoboist. He spent most of his childhood in Buenos Aires, but his family went into exile to Granada, Spain, when he was fourteen. He has a degree in Spanish Philology from the University of Granada, where he later taught Latin American literature. He holds both Argentine and Spanish citizenship. Neuman’s earlier works were mainly poetry and short stories. Even as a poet, Neuman was already receiving attention and acclaim. His first collection of poems, Métodos de la noche, won the 1998 Antonio Carvajal Young Poetry Prize. Alfileres de luz also won the 1999 Federico García Lorca Poetry Prize.

In 1999, at the age of twenty-two, he published his debut novel, Bariloche. It was a finalist for the Premio Herralde and was received as one of the best ten novels of the year by El Cultural, the literary supplement of the national newspaper El Mundo. His sophomore novel, La vida en las ventanas (2002), was a First Finalist in the Primavera Prize, while Una vez Argentina (2003) was also a First Finalist in the Herralde Prize. Despite his early success, it was Neuman’s fourth novel, El viajero del siglo (2009), that earned him more renown. It was his first novel to be translated into English as Traveller of the Century, catapulting him to universal acclaim. The book was the winner of the Alfaguara Prize and the National Critics Prize. It was also shortlisted for the 2014 International Dublin Literary Award. Hablar solos (2012), translated as Talking to Ourselves, was also longlisted for the International Dublin Literary Award. His latest published novel is Hasta que empieza a brillar (2025).

Among his extensive oeuvre are books of short stories like Alumbramiento and Hacerse el muerto. He also published the satirical dictionary Barbarismos, the Latin American travelogue Cómo viajar sin ver (How to Travel without Seeing), and the heterodox treatise on the body Anatomía sensible. Even as a young writer, Neuman had already gained recognition within Spanish literary circles, and even renowned and highly heralded writer Roberto Bolaño took notice of him and his potential. The Chilean writer called him one of the names who will lead twenty-first-century literature. It marked the beginning of what would be an illustrious career.