Category: Book Reviews

Categories
Book Reviews Espana Europe Intellectuals Moslems Philosophy, World politics Uncategorized World Affairs

A Christian hero warrior who lived among Arabs, a book review.

Pérez Reverte, Andrés. Sidi. Un relato de frontera (Miami: Alfaguara/Penguin Random House, 2019), pp. 371.

[Spanish below] El Cid Campeador, Spain’s favorite Christian warrior, appears here with the Arabic name that his own comrades in arms gave him, according to the author. And, indeed, it is a frontier tale, as the subtitle claims, referring to the imaginary line in the Iberian Peninsula that separated the Christian Goths from the Islamic Moors in the eleventh century, before Spain emerged.

The author warns us that Sidi “is a fictional story… that combines history, legend and imagination.” And, for me, that combination was satisfying because I think I can understand something of the past, trusting that he investigated enough before executing the final drafts. He relied on his understanding of the historical trends that slowly unfolded over centuries serving as a background for the actions of his characters. There is no doubt that integrating in the twenty-first century events from the eleventh century with legends embellished by the imagination demands certain caution for us readers. Worse in this case when historians warn of us of how little documentation remains of this warrior who continues to enjoy mythical glory. Perez Reverte includes gory descriptions of throat slicing and beheadings but medieval history in general confirms the enormous sacrifices of life that occurred often enough in the name of loyalty to man and god.

But the fact is that, despite the fiction woven into his tale, I have been able to confirm, for example, more than anything else, the social intertwining that must have existed between Christians and Muslims at that time. The fact that Pérez Reverte baptized his novel with the Arabic name of the famous warrior says a lot. I believe he hit the mark in choosing the title for his novel. I think that this social and economic intertwining represents the main argument in this book, better than a historical essay. It was a very good read. An English version is quite probable.

El Cid Campeador aparece aquí con el nombre árabe que sus propios compañeros en armas le pusieron, según el autor. Y, efectivamente, es un relato de frontera, como reza el subtítulo, la línea imaginaria en la península ibérica que separaba los godos cristianos de los moros islámicos en el siglo once, antes de que surgiera una España. Pérez Reverte incluye descripciones sangrientas de cortes de garganta y decapitaciones, pero la historia medieval en general confirma los enormes sacrificios de la vida que ocurrieron con bastante frecuencia en nombre de la lealtad al hombre y a dios.

El autor nos advierte que Sidi “es un relato de ficción donde…combina historia, leyenda e imaginación.” Y, para mí, esa combinación me ha satisfecho porque creo poder entender algo del pasado, gracias a este autor que investiga algo antes de escribir sus borradores finales. Confió en su haber entendido las tendencias históricas que se desenvuelven lentamente a través de los siglos y fungen como trasfondo en el comportamiento de los personajes. Es innegable que el compaginar en el siglo veintiuno hechos del siglo XI con leyendas embellecidas por la imaginación requiere exigir cierto cuidado para nosotros los lectores. Peor en este caso cuando poca documentación queda del domador de la frontera tal como nos avisan los historiadores, en contradicción a la gloria mítica que le asignan los españoles.  

Pero el hecho es que, a pesar de la ficción entretejida aquí, he podido, como lector, confirmar, por ejemplo, más que nada, el entrelazo social que debió haber existido entre los cristianos y los musulmanes en esa época. El hecho de que Pérez Reverte bautice su novela con el nombre arábico del insigne guerrero dice mucho ya. Intitular su novela de esta manera me parece una decisión acertada. Por último, pienso que ese entrelazado social y económico representa el argumento principal de este libro y de esto el autor ha hecho un excelente repaso, mejor que un ensayo histórico. Fue una lectura muy buena.

Categories
Book Reviews Central America Current Events Humanities Washington Talks Intellectuals Latin America Philosophy, World politics Talks and other events World Affairs

The Monkeys Have No Tail in Zamboanga–A Growing Up Story (a book review)

Wolfe, Reese. The Monkeys Have No Tails in Zamboanga (Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1959) pp. 169.

An old friend, gone by and by, wrote this wonderful memoir a few years before I met him. He confessed he was an author when we worked together, but I did not read his work until decades later. Now I’m glad I finally read this part it; it may have been his most satisfying.

The Monkeys Have No Tails is Reese’s memoir of growing up and becoming a man. He told me, when I knew him, that he had grown up in the Berkeley-San Francisco area in a well-heeled family, an assertion confirmed in this book. I discovered I was vaguely familiar with his growing up years, as chronicled here, most probably because we talked about his early life when my wife and I visited him and his wife, Dorothee, and I started learning the little matters that underpinned our work. We were cultural attaché’s in Central America, he the older, I the younger (much younger).

Reese tells us in his book that he became a man at sea. That is what this memoir is about; that at the age of eighteen he left home and made it to the old wharfs in San Francisco where he committed himself as an apprentice mariner on a rusty old merchant marine ship. He thought it was the beginning of an exotic adventure but was soon put to work cleaning and polishing the entire ship, day after day, then later shoveling coal into the steam boilers. This is how came to sail the briny blue for countless weeks. He became overwhelmed with regrets when the fabled ports of call turned out to be a big disappointment.

He couldn’t get back home quickly enough.

In between, he discovered, among other things, that in Zamboanga monkeys have no tails but more importantly he learned lifelong lessons: who he was and who he wasn’t. He admired the first assistant engineer so much that he began aping him, but soon came to terms with himself, with who he was—and to return to finish up college in Berkeley.

He writes in a light and friendly manner and includes songs he sang on the ship’s foc’sle, strumming his banjo-ukulele to ease the long days on deck.

Reese Wolfe and his daughter, Mimi.

Categories
Book Reviews Current Events Intellectuals Nazis Philosophy, World politics Prisons in the U.S. United States World Affairs

Walla Walla Penitentiary in the 1970’s, a book review

Stastny, Charles and Gabrielle Tyrnauer. Who Rules the Joint? (Lexington MA: Lexington Books, 1982) pp. 234.

The authors of this book, a man and wife team, write that they were personally affected by the violent uprising at the Attica Correctional Facility in Attica, New York, in 1971, in part because they lived nearby. As professional scholars, they had previously studied survivors of the Nazi regime. Coincident with Attica, they learned of the unusually progressive changes that were being reported at the first Washington State Prison (WSP) also known as Walla Walla. Determining that these were exceptional circumstances they turned their investigative capacity to the goings on in Washington State, producing this book as a result.  

Who Rules the Joint? begins by offering a perspective on what appeared to be significant reforms at Walla Walla in the late 1970’s. One of their findings is that the prison policy revisions there in those years were among the most progressive in the United States.

To help the reader grasp the meaning of this assertion the authors review the growth of prisons in the United States. Their analysis allows them to develop a typology of “power configuration” in American penal institutions. In other words, they sort out their understanding of the application of authority in a prison and come up with the following categories: unicentric (“keepers over prisoners”), bicentric (“keepers vs convicts”), tricentric (“keepers, remediators and inmates”) and polycentric (“Mass society, Prisoners, keepers, guards’ unions, courts, legislatures, mass media, etc.”). Authority exercised by the “keepers” of a prison is most strict in a unicentric situation because the power is concentrated in one place, it is unified at the top with the wardens. At the other end of the continuum, authority is polycentric because it is spread among several actors, or in many places, theoretically, at least.

Chapters 5 and 6 contain the key findings of the study and the information most specific to Walla Walla. Spurred by Dr. William R. Conte, reform-minded administrators endorsed new ideas at a time when progressive change was rising in American society. WSP saw the rise of a polycentric arrangement of authority that endured from 1971 to 1973, a condition not seen anywhere else. A Resident Governing Council (RGC) made up of elected prisoners who could sit down with the superintendent to decide how the prison was going to be run is a remarkable example of this period. The fact that inmates published their own newspaper also stands out as a notable demonstration of inmate influence. In the chapters noted, the authors weigh and analyze the relative strength of inmate power, but they also report the decline of the experiment. The RGC was eliminated by 1979 and things returned to a more authoritarian configuration, somewhere between unicentric and bicentric. A multitude of factors intervene in the process and they are discussed in detail. The manner of reversing the “power configuration” from many points of influence to only one or two is punctuated with reports of significant violence taking place all the way to 1979.

One of the final conclusions I make is that the late 1970’s were undoubtedly the toughest years in Walla Walla for everyone concerned. Another is that penal directors at the very top along with high state officials necessarily took stock of the situation and decided to reinstate the fullest control possible.

The authors of this seemingly neglected volume include copious end notes filled with important explanatory notes and a bibliography about prisons that appears quite comprehensive up to the point of publication. I consider Who Rules the Joint? a primer for anyone beginning to understand prisons in America.

Categories
Book Reviews Current Events immigration Uncategorized United States

A girl grows up in Brooklyn, a book review

Smith, Betty. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (New York: Harper Perennial, 1943, 2001) pp.493.

This book is a masterpiece of Americana, written in a heartwarming, humanistic manner. Notice that it first appeared in 1943, the best the author ever wrote, kindly and fittingly rescued from oblivion and published anew.

Betty Smith and her book

It is a tender tale of growing up in America, in Brooklyn, in the first decade of the 20th century. The life of a penurious but respectable family is narrated by Francie, the pre-teenage daughter whose understanding of herself and her family evolves during a five year span. A portrait of her beloved Irish father who would rather sing in pubs than hold a proper job is heart rending as it is earnest, as is her mother who devotedly and efficiently holds the family together even after the death of her husband.

Still, the centerpiece is Francie’s growing up into an independently-minded young woman. Early Brooklyn is also portrayed with affectionate detail, the candy seller, the local tavern, the local school, while New York City lies far away, an alien country across the river that barely enters the picture. In an afterword we learn that the novel is autobiographic.

Categories
Book Reviews Central America Current Events Humanities Washington Talks immigration Intellectuals Mexico migration u.s.-mexico border United States World Affairs

LIVING AS AN UNDOCUMENTED PERSON IN AMERICA, A BOOK REVIEW

Marcelo Hernández Castillo. Children of the Land: A Memoir (New York: Harper Collins, 2020), pp. 362.

Every American should read this memoir because it offers a real, personalized story about what it means to live as an undocumented person in the United States. Most Americans have no idea.

The author was brought to the United States in 1991 as a youngster by his undocumented parents, making him a DACA person. This means that, like his parents, he too was undocumented but received protection from deportation in 2012 from President Barack Obama’s Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (hence DACA). He was one of a great multitude in similar circumstances, but different from most of them because he obtained a green card visa later, after all, as he explains.

Like most DACA folk, Castillo became Americanized to the point of losing fluency in Spanish, relying on over the counter drugs, wearing a nose plug, and even getting tattooed. And, like many of his fellow Dacas, he also achieved what most mainstream Americans do not: a master’s degree from a leading university. He does not expound on the challenges he encountered doing this, but they must have been enormous. Instead of becoming a lawyer or a doctor, he became a poet. Here are the reasons he admits for this:

I wanted to write poetry because I believed any practice in the English language would distance myself from my identity as an immigrant and I thought (naively ashamedly so) that the farthest association from an immigrant was a poet How foolish I was. Little did I know the lineage of immigrant poets I came from…(p. 75).

Then, again he explains regarding learning English:

I wanted to write and speak English better than any white person, any citizen, because in the unthinkable case of ever getting caught by immigration, I thought I would impress them enough with my mastery of English to let me go. What a stupid idea. (pp.75-76)

Castillo’s memoir is framed around the agonizing challenges of obtaining his own residential visa, then trying to get his father’s and later his mother’s. I found this part particularly gratifying because he unabashedly divulges the psychological and social strains involved. Just driving to be interviewed at the ICE offices to qualify for the visa he became fearful of committing a mistake that would get him pulled over and arrested obliterating his dream of holding a visa. Paranoia and trauma are words that he uses to describe his feelings—and those of his family. The rest of us would be better Americans if we could appreciate these experiences.

He is a poet writing his memoirs, so the biographical elements mentioned in the paragraphs above are veiled in his often florid text and fluid structure. Reading the text with care will help.

Why Castillo’s family chose to immigrate without documents in the first place is a crucial point addressed only tangentially because it is, after all, a memoir, not a history book. He works as a professional poet.

Categories
Book Reviews Current Events Prisons in the U.S. We Became Mexican American, a book

Join Our “Mixer” for Incarcerated Latinos on FaceBook June 28, 2020

Hello everyone,

I am inviting you to join me and my fellow LDO Volunteers who support Latino prisoners in the Monroe Correctional Center (MCC) in Monroe WA. We are doing a “Mixer” on Facebook, June 28th at 3 p.m., via Zoom. Please join us.

The Mixer will offer some informational and cultural activities. I will give a brief overview of our organization (LDO) at the start and two or three formerly incarcerated Latino community members will speak of their experiences. We’re hoping for some music too. So sorry we can’t offer you something to eat and drink!

If you are interested in the general topic of U.S. prisons and/or Latinx issues (culture, history, the Latino experience in the U.S., etc.) you may find our LDO Mixer hour interesting if not beneficial (if you’re interested in the subject of prisons, see my book review of American Prison, in this same blog). The purpose of our Facebook event is to help our communities understand prison realities, attract local volunteers to help with our prison work at the MCC, compile a list of followers and invite donor contributions.

The Monroe Correctional Complex, Monroe WA

LDO refers to the Latino Development Organization of Washington Serving Latinos in the Monroe Correctional Complex. This is the name of our nonprofit organization (501c3), and I am the president. LDO includes a Board of Directors, a small corps of community volunteers, and detainee leaders representing about 40 inmates in the MCC who affiliate with LDO. We appreciate both our community volunteers and the guys inside because without their help LDO would not exist. The photo at the top of this article, taken in 2019, shows some of our LDO detainees and some of our volunteers standing in front of artwork created by MCC prisoners.

The word “development” in the title of our organization was chosen by the LDO affiliated detainees a couple of years ago in one of our meetings. They chose it because they insisted and continue to insist on developing and improving themselves to achieve the fullest rehabilitation possible.

Before the pandemic struck, our LDO organization was building, at their request, a curriculum of educational and self-improvement activities, including guest presentations, short-term classes on psychology, history, art and culture (I gave some) and so on. They had already organized themselves into mentoring groups in art, Spanish, math, etc., as testimony of their own inclination toward self-improvement. Does that impress you? Our LDO guys impress me quite a lot. In any case, we’re preparing to resume our work as soon as possible.

Hope to see you on June 28th at 3 p.m.!

Visit and like us at our Facebook page here: https://www.facebook.com/latinodevelopmentorganization/

And our web page is here: https://www.latinodevelopmentorganization.org/

 

Categories
Book Reviews Caribbean Latin America

Christophe, the King of Haiti / The Kingdom of this World, a book review

Carpentier, Alejo. El reino de este mundo (Santiago, Chile: Editorial Universitaria, 1969). (See English below) El reino del que trata este libro de 142 páginas es el del “rey” de Haiti, Henri Christophe, que llegó a su fin en 1820 en la isla de Española.

Nacido en Suiza, pero criado en Cuba, el autor probablemente se dio cuenta en su juventud de la historia pesarosa del país vecino. Así es que nos asegura en la introducción, que en 1943 tuvo “la suerte” de hacer una visita a Haití donde encontró “las ruinas, tan poéticas de Sans Souci, la mole imponente” que legó Christophe a sus desharrapados compatriotas, refiriéndose al edificio colosal y masivo que sus vasallos tuvieron que erigir y que trae turistas hasta hoy en día.

Sans Souci

Considerado como uno de los más destacados escritores de América Latina del siglo XX, Carpintier hace un lado su estilo magistral rebuscado, el que resalta en la introducción de este libro, y, menos mal, no escribe el texto propio de la novela de una manera rebuscada, pues se ajusta al nivel de un esclavo negro llamado Ti Noël cuya suerte nos revela el mundo del rey Christophe.  A través de su precaria existencia el lector descubre, sin tener que aguantar términos pedantescos, de la manera en que Christophe ejerció su despotismo sobre sus súbditos desheredados, opresión que debió desaparecer después de las insignes luchas por la igualdad libradas por el célebre Toussaint L’Overture cuyo nombre curiosamente no aparece en este libro.

Carpintier deja ver su anhelo por descubrir “lo maravilloso” en la historia de los pueblos latinoamericanos para contraponer a géneros similares europeos. Así es que ve en la historia de Haití figuras protagónicas como la de Christophe (y Mackandal, líder revolucionario vudista) que tienen la capacidad de asombrar a través del tiempo por sus hazanas extraordinarias.  [January 2020]

The Kingdom of this World, is available in English. The kingdom that this 142-page book is about is that of the “king” of Haiti, Henri Christophe, who came to an end in 1820 on the island of Española.

Born in Switzerland, but raised in Cuba, the author probably discovered the sorrowful history of the country next door when he was a young man. He assures us in the introduction, that he was “lucky” to pay a visit to Haiti in 1943 where he found “the poetic ruins of Sans Souci, the imposing mass” that Christophe bequeathed to his ragged subjects, referring to the massive colossal edifice that they had to erect, a structure that attracts tourists to this day.

Considered as one of the most outstanding writers in Latin America in the 20th century, Carpintier sets aside his elaborate writing style, evident in the Introduction, and, thank goodness, writes the body of the novel less pedantically, adjusting it more realistically to his main character, a black slave named Ti Noël. His pitiful life draws the curtain for the reader on the world of King Christophe. Chronicling his precarious existence, we learn the way in which Christophe applied his despotism over his unprivileged subjects, an oppression that should have disappeared thanks to Toussaint L’Overture’s well-known fight for equality, but curiously this hero’s name is absent.

Carpintier exposes his desire to discover “the marvelous” in the history of Latin American peoples in contrast with similar European genres. So, he features protagonists like Christophe (and Mackandal, a voodoo revolutionary) in the history of Haiti as characters whose extraordinary feats enjoy the capacity to amaze over time.

Categories
Book Reviews Central America Latin America World Affairs

“Mamita Yunai” is about the United Fruit Company

Fallas, Carlos Luis. Mamita Yunai (San José, C.R.: Editorial Costa Rica, 1941, 2019), pp. 267. [See Spanish below] The author was a unionized banana plantation worker in Costa Rica in the 1930s who learned to read and write despite conditions to the contrary. Mamita became his best known work. It is an excellent piece of literature, on its own, yet it also accomplishes what the author most wanted: to unveil the unquestionably villainous working conditions that made it possible for Americans to consume their bananas in those years. Have these conditions changed today?

Mamita Yunai is the ironic nickname that Spanish speaking workers used to refer to the company that employed them and which dominated the banana industry: The United Fruit Company. Yunai was the closest they could come to saying “united,” and they regarded the American firm as a wicked mother, which she apparently was. Apt title.

This is Fallas’ fictionalized memoir of the years he worked in the banana fields of Costa Rica, on the Caribbean coast, first as a liniero or line man and later as a labor union representative. In the novel he calls himself Sibajitas and describes himself as a member of a squad of laborers opening the dense jungle to install the narrow-gage rail lines that would help extract the elongated perishable fruit. Sweating from insufferable humidity and heat, swamps, snakes and swarming mosquitos, the author convinced me of the improbability of human survival especially with little or no medical services. He writes that countless men died as a result, most of them left to rot in the muddy morass, as in the case of a close friend. Local government officials are described as enablers of this situation because they were in the company pay.

The north coast of Central America is the home of many African-origin folks who appear here as United Fruit workers, alongside their Hispanic-origin co-workers. They speak pidgin English and Spanish and reside in Costa Rica or are passing through from Honduras headed to Panama looking for canal jobs there. Aboriginals from Talamanca also appear in the story because the banana fields intruded into their long-guarded territory. They’re regarded as proud enemies of Spanish conquerors but their condition, in the 1930’s, had been reduced to wretched survival.

By the way, the Prologue’s author scorns Fallas’ many critiques for suppressing this book because of his membership in the local Communist Party, crushed long ago.  The book has been translated into English.

El autor fue un trabajador sindicalizado en las plantaciones bananeras de Costa Rica en la década de los 1930’s y aprendió a leer y escribir a pesar de tener todas las condiciones a su contra. Mamita Yunai es su obra mayor y la más conocida. La considero un trabajo literario excelente y pienso también que el autor logró lo que más quería: dejar ver las condiciones de trabajo incuestionablemente desgraciadas, que hicieron posible que los estadounidenses pudieran disfrutar de sus bananas en esos años. Han cambiado las condiciones en estos días?

“Mamita Yunai” es el apodo mordaz que los trabajadores de habla hispana usaban para referirse a la United Fruit Company, la empresa que los empleaba y que dominaba la industria bananera. “Yunai” era lo más cerca que podían llegar a decir “united,” y consideraban a la empresa norteamericana como una madre malvada, lo que aparentemente era. Título apto.

Esta es una memoria novelizada del propio Fallas cuando trabajó en los campos bananeros de Costa Rica, en la costa del Caribe, primero como “liniero” y luego como representante de un sindicato. En la novela se auto llama Sibajitas y nos dice que fue miembro de un pelotón de obreros que abría la espesa jungla para instalar las líneas ferroviarias que ayudarían a extraer la fruta amarilla y perecedera. Sudar a chorros a causa de la humedad y el calor insufrible, caminar en pantanos, aguantar serpientes y enjambres de mosquitos, el autor me convenció de la improbabilidad de la supervivencia humana, especialmente con poco o ningún servicio médico. Escribe que incontables hombres murieron como resultado, la mayoría de ellos pudriéndose en el fango, como en el caso de un amigo cercano. Describe a los oficiales de gobierno como achichinques por estar al pago de la empresa.

Gente de origen africano reside en la costa norte de Centro América y por eso aparecen aquí muchos de ellos como trabajadores de la United Fruit, al lado de sus compañeros hispanos. Hablan inglés pidgin y español y residen en Costa Rica o los describe el autor como emigrantes de Honduras dirigiéndose a Panamá en busca de trabajo. Los aborígenes de Talamanca también aparecen en esta historia porque los campos bananeros invadieron en su territorio, el que habían protegido durante la época colonial. Se les considera orgullosos enemigos de los conquistadores españoles, pero su condición en los 1930’s se había reducido a una resistencia miserable.

Por cierto, el autor del Prólogo rechaza a los críticos de Fallas porque suprimieron este libro debido a su membresía en el Partido Comunista, desbaratado ya hace mucho tiempo.

Categories
Book Reviews Humanities Washington Talks Uncategorized

EL CAMINO, A BOOK REVIEW (Life in a Spanish village in the 1940s)

[See Spanish below]

El Camino (Barcelona, Austral/Destino, 2009).  Delibes received several awards in his native land and, based on this novel, considered his best work, these honors, I think, are totally fitting. I discovered him to be an excellent writer and an authority of his fellow Spaniards (he died in 2010).

This 285-page book, edited by Marisa Sotelo, is divided into three parts. The first offers an introduction written by Sotelo concerning the author’s work, she an expert in Spanish literature. The novel itself occupies the second section, and the third takes the form of a curious “Reading Guide” alluding to Delibes’ work, conceived and written by Fernando de Miguel.

El Camino is about the life of three boys living in a northern Spanish village in the 1940s (I discovered a passage that refers to the Spanish Civil War of the late 1930s). It unfolded so serenely that I began to judge it as a string of trivial though colorful portraits. Soon, I noticed, however, the way in which the lives of the young characters mirrored more profound reflections about small town life. I found that Delibes handled his written work with impressive mastery revealing both detailed knowledge and amusing portraits of the villagers, like the blacksmith, the priest, the cheesemaker, the godless man, the train station manager, and others.

Delibes did this by following the lives of the three little friends, Daniel, the Owl, Roque the Stooge, and Germán, the Scab, looking especially at their mischief and tomfoolery. This device allows the author to unveil the relations between the adults of the town. For this reason I place  El Camino inside the literary genre that owns the Hardy Boys in the world of English literature, but showing greater literary complexity. His style is simple but solid. It was a delicious read.

Delibes ha sido galardonado con varios premios españoles y, basado en esta novela considerada como su mejor trabajo, pienso que dichos reconocimientos están en lo correcto. Leyendo su libro descubrí que Delibes fue un excelente escritor y conocedor de su país (murió en 2010).

Este libro, de 285 páginas, editado por Marisa Sotelo, contiene tres partes. La primera ofrece una introducción que Sotelo escribe concerniente a la obra del autor. La novela ocupa la segunda sección, y la tercera toma la forma de un curioso “Guía de Lectura” alusivo al trabajo de Delibes, concebido y escrito por Fernando de Miguel.

El Camino trata de la vida de tres chicos, naturales de a una aldea española en los años cuarenta del siglo veinte (descubrí un fragmento que hace alusión a la guerra civil). Esta se desenvuelve tan plácidamente que me pareció, al principio, como un hilo de retratos pueblerinos triviales. Pero pronto me di cuenta de la forma en que dichas efemérides encerraban reflexiones profundas. Es más, hallé que Delibes manejó su trabajo escrito con una maestría impresionante revelando un detallado conocimiento de la vida de los vecinos, tales como el herrero, el señor cura, el quesero, el sin dios, las “guindillas” y las “lepóridas,” y otros.

Pero mas que nada, Delibe protagoniza a los tres amiguitos, Daniel, el Mochuelo, Roque el Moñigo, Germán el Tiñoso, y sigue sus picardías y pillerías, las que corren el velo a las relaciones entre los adultos del pueblo. El Camino pertenece al género de cuentos protagonizados en el mundo de literatura inglés por los Hardy Boys, pero ostentando mayor profundidad literaria. Su estilo es sencillo pero firme. Fue una grata lectura.  [October 2019]

 

Categories
Book Reviews Uncategorized

AMERICAN LIBERATOR: SIMON BOLIVAR, A BOOK REVIEW

Arana, Marie. Bolivar: American Liberator (NY: Simon & Schuster, 2013). Arana took on a major job in writing this one-volume biography of Simón Bolivar, a truly amazing man. He unyoked northern South America (Venezuela, Colombia, Peru and Ecuador) from Spain in the early 1800s, bringing the kind of independence to these countries that we celebrate in the United States on July 4th. It is a shame that Americans know little about him. By the way, the people of Latin America, from Mexico to Argentina, also call themselves “Americans.” They began doing so in the late 1700s, like we did in the United States. (They chafe at our appropriating the word as we do).

Arana tells us that Bolivar was indefatigable in convincing a rabble of peasants and slaves to fight for their “freedom” and “liberty.” He persuaded them that this merited their being uprooted, leaving their families and, in many cases, dying or being killed. This is the biggest lesson to be gained from Bolivar’s life and from this biography: his unrelenting pursuit of independence and republicanism in the face of astonishing odds. Along these lines, too, Arana skillfully describes the astounding trek that he and his bedraggled warriors underwent in crossing the Andes mountains from east to west in order to surprise Spanish troops in Bogotá, and later Lima, and thus guarantee their expulsion from the continent, better than Hannibal and Alexander the Great. George Washington’s exploits, heroic as they might have been, don’t compare given the distances and geographic challenges.

Bolivar’s overwhelming disillusionment over the inability of his compatriots to adopt democratic republicanism is handled quite well by the author. She knowingly deals with the ironic triumph of caudillismo (strong man politics) and cites Bolivar’s own ironic recognition that he was the best example of caudillo rule. His famous phrase, “I plowed the sea,” refers to his failure to establish democratic republics; it fits in Arana’s narrative perfectly along with his famous “Letter from Panama” in which he sees into Latin America’s political future.

The details of Bolivar’s struggles are based on the voluminous letters and speeches he left behind, plus the ample history books written about his life and times. He is, of course, the George Washington of the countries mentioned. It is an easy to read book, for history buffs and scholars as well.