“”Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric,” wrote Yeats. “Out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry.” And what happens when both quarrels arise at the same time, when fighting with the world is a reflection or a transfiguration of the subterranean but constant confrontation you have with yourself? Then you write a book like the one I’m writing now, and blindly trust that the book will mean something to somebody else.”
Robert Bolano and Juan Gabriel Vasquez are couple of my
favorite Latin-American authors, whose works serve as antithesis to the
canonized magical realism of Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Both Mr. Vasquez and Mr.
Bolano ostensibly like to insert themselves into their narratives (Bolano shows up
as Arturo Belano) and they both possesses the gift to turn a anecdote of some
obscure history (pertaining to their nations) into a compelling fiction. May be
the Chilean author Bolano differs from Colombian Vasquez in the way he employs
his deliberately impassive prose to convey the horror and violence of Latin
America’s historical reality. Vasquez’s prose also presents the human toll
claimed by the country’s years of violence, but it resonates more with lyricism
and poignancy.
Juan Gabriel Vasquez’ latest novel The Shape of the Ruins
(originally published in 2015 and translated to English by Anne McLean in
2018), which got shortlisted for the Man Booker International Prize,
focuses on pair of political assassinations in 20th century Colombia
that was enveloped in the shadows of conspiracy theories. One was the killing
of reformist liberal politician Jorge Eliecer Gaitan whose death plunged
Colombia’s capital Bogota into chaos, and the resulting massive riots caused
death of 3,000 Colombians (referred to as ‘El Bogotazo’). The riots were
followed by ‘La Violencia’, a ten year civil war. Juan Roa Sierra is the man
who guns down Gaitan and in the ensuing pandemonium he is lynched by the mob,
his body paraded around the streets. But soon there are talks of mysterious
elegant men in grey suit, disappearing witnesses, cover-ups, and fall-guys. The
other political murder was that of Rafael Uribe Uribe in 1914, a liberal
statesman axed to death in broad day-light (Uribe was the inspiration behind
the fictional character Aureliano Buendia in Gabriel García Márquez’s “One
Hundred Years of Solitude.”) The perpetrators are captured, but a young lawyer
named Tulio Anzola makes public accusations of a conspiracy involving prominent
figures (Jesuits, Police chief, Prosecutor, etc).
The Shape of the Ruins, however, isn’t an Oliver Stone’s
JFK-style counter-propaganda on the murder of Colombia’s two prominent
political figures of 20th century. It isn’t a conventional political
thriller, where the author strongly propagates his version of truth. Vasquez
rather deftly explores how the conspiratorial visions smooth over the jagged
rifts left by conflict-ridden national history and the perils of obsession over
such hearsay and speculations. Vasquez achieves this by injecting his
fictionalized self as the narrator-protagonist. As the narrator’s premature
twin daughters are fighting for their lives, he attends a party thrown by his
friend, Dr Benavides. In the party, Vasquez meets Carlos Carballo, an eccentric
middle-aged man obsessed with figuring out the alternative version of 1948
murder of Jorge Eliecer Gaitan. Their initial encounter leads to physical
altercation, pushing Vasquez to categorize Carlos as a conspiracy theorist and
fantasist. But later when encountering Carballo at a funeral of a
writer-friend, Vasquez questions his initial assessment of Carballo. And
Carballo approaches Vasquez (with plethora of materials), requesting him to
open his mind and write a book that may unravel the secrets behind Gaitan’s
death.
Juan Gabriel Vásquez |
I like reading novels
like The Shape of the Ruins because it takes some elements of historical truth
to build an intricate tale around it. In the due process, I have also learned a
lot about Colombian history (not just the conspiracy theories behind the
political assassinations). Vasquez’ literary world has one foot set in the fact
and the other is set among personal memories and private lives. The novel
attains immense depth when these two facets of Vasquez’ world meet each other. In
fact, the historical, political landscape and private conflicts are beautifully
and captivatingly voiced so that it doesn’t get lost among the elliptical
narrative. Overall, The Shape of the Ruins is a magisterial novel that deals
with pliancy of historical narratives and human obsession for scrutinizing the
shadows of the past.
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