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.