“We have already said goodbye, and yet we are not leaving; we have already said goodbye and parted ways, and yet there is this time that stands still and lasts, and that also belongs to the farewell.”

A one-way trip. A week in an Argentine village. A return trip.

Nothing more. The Separation does not require major events to delve into the depths of relationships, intimacy, and the inner lives of its characters. Fernando says goodbye to his partner. It seems that their relationship is going through a period of uncertainty. He leaves from Retiro station in Buenos Aires, bound for La Paz, a small town in the province of Córdoba.

His brother lives there, whom he is going to visit because of his recent and devastating breakup. During the bus trip, there are stops, a few conversations, rain, silence.

Once in La Paz, the brothers meet, chat, and try to explain what has happened. Fernando contacts his brother’s ex-partner, and the possibility of reconciliation opens up. Then it’s time to return: another bus, other passengers, several incidents—a fire, a police check, a woman trapped in the bathroom—and the hope that, upon arrival at the destination station, there will be someone there to meet him.

With an original interplay of voices, this novel focuses on the seemingly insignificant details that surround us. Kohan observes, describes, never exaggerates. He knows that it is in the nuances, in the empty spaces, where everything is really hidden, and here he gives us a brilliant example of literature that manages to tell us a lot with very little.

In The Separation, Kohan takes his refined and precise writing one step further and once again demonstrates why he is one of the most solid and personal narrators in contemporary Argentine literature.