As I am supposed to be getting started on my Wikipedia article I devoted some time this reading week to Mario Vargas Llosa’s The Feast of the Goat, and will be writing about this book instead of I The Supreme.  The first thing that struck me about The Feast of the Goat is the fact that it deals with real events in recent world history.  This made it immediately fascinating to me and helped build up in my mind a stock of good will towards the novel.  This stock has begun to dwindle however, as I notice elements of Llosa’s writing that frustrate me.  For instance, Urania seems so far to be less of a character than she is a vessel for anecdotes about the Trujillo era.  I have begun to long for the end of her chapters just so I can feel like I am reading a novel again rather than a thinly veiled attempt to fill the reader in on events of which they are probably ignorant.  

    On top of Urania’s poor characterization is the ever-present allusion to her great secret, the final straw that sparked her flight from her homeland and everything she knew.  I have always found that unless a novel is either a murder mystery or a fast-paced thriller, there is no need to keep the reader waiting for important plot information.  Frankly it seems more like a ploy to keep us engaged than a legitimate matter of pacing or suspense.  As the novel is based on historical events much of the outcome is already known, and to keep us hanging on the revelation of one woman’s personal battle seems unnecessary.  Of course I’m sure the rest of the novel will make me eat my words.  

    This having been said, I am enjoying the book very much and find the characters of the assassins to be captivating.  The back-story described for each man feels much less forced than Urania’s sadistic recollections at her ailing father’s bedside.  In addition, the insights into Trujillo’s thoughts are well-composed and plausible, almost enough to make me forget that Llosa is once again teasing me with a vital and mysterious piece of plot.  

The imagery in of The President is very rich.  There are the motifs of eyes and wings, as well as some interesting personifications of sleep.  These images really flesh out the characters.  

The Judge Advocate is described as having “basilisk eyes”, which is only fitting given that nearly everyone upon whom he truly fixes his gaze meets an unpleasant end.  The trope of the Judge as a pitiless reptile makes him a larger-than-life figure and all the more effective for the purposes of this novel.  He is a man who goes out of his way to enforce the power of the regime and sees to feel no compassion whatsoever.  He is cold-blooded and deadly, and a little unrealistic – just like the basilisk.  In addition, the President’s eyes are described as being like mosquitos gorged with blood.  I prefer a pretty simple interpretation of this, being that the if a glance from the Judge Advocate can kill, than a look from the President feeds on what was alive.  

Angel Face’s dream segment is especially vivid.  The god of sleep sorting out all the arrivals to his domain into boats according to their driving emotion is a beautiful image and adds to the less realist side of the novel.  

In what is perhaps a less beautiful image, Asturias seems to compare sex to the slaughter of a chicken.  Angel Face and Camila make love interspersed with description of the chase and killing of a chicken.  The culmination of both events is as follows: “Camila shut her eyes … Her husband’s weight … A flapping of wings … A stain …”.   The hen dies, either by running into a wall or by the falling of the wall onto the chicken.  I’m no literary theorist, but it seems as though Asturias is hinting at the mutual complicity of Angel Face and Camila – no matter who does the dead, the wall or the hen, the deed is done.  Though Angel Face had much to do with Camila’s predicament, she is now just as deeply involved.  

    Miguel Angel Asturias’ The President is one of the most enjoyably written books I have read in a long time.  I won’t rave too much about the concise yet poetic nature of the prose as this blog is not a book review, but it deserves mentioning.  

As for the content, I was fascinated by the way Asturias leads the reader to decant meaning from snippets or dialogue between characters and seemingly insignificant plot details.   For instance, when Angel Face tells Canales that his innocence is a greater threat to his life than guilt would be, he is speaking a strategy of the President’s totalitarian government – making the people, from statesman to servant, complicit in the crimes of the regime.  If Canales were in fact guilty of the murder he would at least be bound to the President by virtue of his collusion.  

While this strategy is not addressed explicitly in the novel, moments like this remind the reader of the complexity of life under a dictatorship.  It is hard to remain blameless and even the heroes of this story have much to atone for.  Both Canales and Angel Face participate in and contribute to the President’s rule.  Angel face seems to be well aware of the evil nature of his employer but remains loyal to the dictator, perhaps because he knows that he has already played a part in the man’s crimes. 

 In another brief excerpt that highlights the overwhelming power the regime has over people, Asturias describes a letter to Carvajal’s widow, describing his death.  The letter’s author is so deeply entrenched in a mindset of oppression and fear that upon counting on his fingers only nine murderous gunshots he feels as though he has one finger too many.  This was the moment in the novel that struck me the most; not because I took it literally but because it reminded me of how deeply human beings can adapt to and accept the most horrific occurrences. 

At long last, here are some more reflections on Facundo.  The later chapters of the book illustrate two distinct types of leaders, exemplified by the figures of Facundo and Rosas.  Rosas is in many ways a Machiavellian dictator who rules and maintains rule by possessing and exercising absolute control.  He metes out punishment almost indiscriminately and seems to have to qualms whatsoever.  He is a manipulator and a murderer.  He is the antithesis to Plato’s philosopher king: he desires power and therefore should never have it.  Rosas claims to be uninterested in power, saying that he requires authority and obedience only to keep order and insisting that he could never abuse them.  Rosas says that a school teacher must have a whip in his hand so that his authority will be respected.  However, despite this allusion to altruism, Rosas is shown by Sarmiento to use that whip time and time again.  The chaos in Buenos Aires is a good indicator of the difference in the two leaders.  Rosas allows the chaos and mayhem in the city to get out of control, waiting for people to become desperate and in danger.  Only then does he submit to taking leadership, feigning reluctance and requesting as a condition of his return the “extraordinary powers” over public and private life that are his whip. 

While Facundo is no philosopher king, he does not desire power in the same way as Rosas and as such is more fit to be a leader of the people.  He fights for what he believes to be right for Argentines, not simply himself.  When confronted with the fear and confusion in Buenos Aires Facundo claims that he could have forestalled such conflict had he been there.  The sheer force of Facundo’s will is enough to make men follow him, and his physical presence inspires obedience.  Unlike Rosas he is unwilling to retire to a safe place and await his opportunity for gain.  Instead, Facundo deliberately tempts fate and invites disaster, if only to prove that his confidence and fearlessness are based on truth.  Facundo refuses to avoid traps set to bring about his demise, even when warned by his supporters.  Instead he boasts and walks into them undaunted and unprotected.  Somehow he emerges unscathed, and the power of his reputation grows. 

Everything about Facundo’s leadership is passionate and unafraid, while Rosas’ is calculating and unmerciful.  Both men share qualities of unflinching will, but the fundamental differences between them are what make Sarmiento’s criticism of Rosas and admiration for Facundo so relatable and so significant.