Mariano Azuela (1873–1952)

If this didn’t influence Cormac McCarthy’s Border Trilogy, I’d be surprised. Azuela’s sparse prose and depiction of individuals caught up in events and landscape that they have little control over gives us a raw novel inspired by events the author witnessed.

The narration begins with the peasant Demetrio as he starts to participate in what would become the Mexican Revolutionary War. He barely understands what he is doing as events carry him along with an array of characters who show more eventually form his army.

While there are moments when Demetrio and his compatriots believe they know what they are fighting for, the novel ends in disillusionment and confusion. Throughout, Azuela writes with irony if not outright satire to give us a view of revolution that is realistic and therefore shorn of any ideologies or heroes.

For that, it’s important. The fact that it’s written in Latin America makes it all the more important: noone does revolutionary ideology or heroism like our fellow Latinos. To show that this particular emperor wears no clothes was daring and as one of the first Latin American novels to be published in English, it was very influential. show less

“I love the revolution like a volcano in eruption; I love the volcano because it’s a volcano, the revolution because it’s the revolution! What do I care about the stones left above or below after the cataclysm? What are they to me?”

Set in 1910-1915, this story follows protagonist Demetrio Macías, a peasant who becomes involved in the Mexican Revolution after a disagreement with a local landowner. He forms and leads a band of outcasts as they travel the country, committing random show more acts of violence in support of the cause. They do not seem to understand exactly what or for whom they are fighting. Pancho Villa and other historic figures are mentioned but are not the focus.

My favorite part is the way the author portrays the mental and behavioral changes exhibited by the outcasts. It portrays how the oppressed become the oppressors. The novel feels rather fragmented, which could be due to the translation. Published in 1916, it is short and worth reading solely for the historical context and the fact that the author experienced the Mexican Revolution first-hand. show less

Me sorprendió. Azuela es un tremendo novelista. No glorifica ni justifica a nadie, la Revolución como un baño de sangre en el que, muchas veces, nadie sabía de qué lado peleaba. El triunfo de cualquiera de los bandos resultaba en la adicción al poder de sus dirigentes. Y el círculo de violencia sigue hasta nuestros días...

I can’t remember if I first read Los de abajo (The Underdogs) in high school or in college, but I definitely read it in English. I saw a cheap Cátedra edition online the other day, and decided it was time to read it again. I work with quite a few Mexicans, and when I told them I liked to read in Spanish, they told me I should read Los de abajo, because it’s one of the most famous Mexican novels. I imagine that it’s a much better read in Spanish, because the use of “Mexicanisms” is show more prevalent throughout and serves to define the characters’ backgrounds and social status. The book could be grouped in with a lot of other regional classics like Don Segundo Sombra, Doña Bárbara, and La vorágine, because it is a novel that is inseparable from the specific places in Mexico that it describes. More importantly, it’s inseparable from the Mexican revolution and the historical events that it depicts from the perspective of Demetrio Macías and his men. That’s what I find most fascinating about the book: it’s famous, millions of Mexican people have read it, and it has become so completely and intimately linked to the history of Mexico that its characters are almost more real than the actual people who fought the war. It was interesting to hear my coworkers talk about their ancestors’ roles in the war: one of them said that his grandfather fought for both sides, federales and revolucionarios, and that he went with the side that allowed him to take the best advantage of the situation for his personal benefit. As he was telling me about his grandfather, I wondered how much of what he was saying was about the actual man, and how much was about the characters in the book that he read as a kid, and which perhaps occupies a place in his memory alongside the stories of his grandfather.

I like the wide variety of characters that Azuela introduces in a relatively short book. Demetrio Macías, a rural citizen who takes up arms against the federal forces, serves as the central axis around whom the rest of the men and women orbit. I also like the trajectory of the story, from the men’s initial enthusiasm and pride in their role in the revolution (supported by their positive interactions with the poor, rural people who give them food and shelter) to their later greed, brutality and lack of consideration for human life, as right and wrong become less clear and the different factions wonder whom and what they are actually fighting for. I especially enjoyed an absolutely hellish twenty or thirty page section in the beginning of the second part of the story, where the men indulge in the spoils of victory and drunkenly revel in their impunity as they sack the rich estates they have forcibly occupied. They don’t pause to consider the ugliness of their actions (Demetrio shows ambivalence at times, but seems in a way to understand that the war and the reasons for what is happening are beyond his control), and Azuela narrates the scenes as they occur, without delving into the moral repercussions of the men’s acts. There’s no “voice of reason” saying what a shame it all is, and I like that. As a chronicle of a revolution and what happens when there’s no clear end result or goal that the revolutionaries are fighting for, I think the story and the men and women in it are as ugly as they should be.

O, si quiere, en español:

Hacía mucho que tenía pensado leer este libro en español, pues lo leí hace seis o siete años en inglés para una clase de historia latinoamericana (creo), y quería revisitarlo ahora que sé leer en español. Compré una edición Cátedra por tres o cuatro dólares y me puse a leerlo el otro día, y al terminarlo hoy, creo que recibí tanto placer de él como pensaba. Es un libro sencillo y relata la historia de Demetrio Macías (un personaje ficticio) y sus tropas de forma directa, contando de sus andanzas en la revolución mexicana entre los años 1912 y 1914. Cuenta el entusiasmo inicial de los revolucionarios y el buen acogido que reciben de la gente de la sierra; después cuenta de los robos, las matanzas, y los demás horrores de una guerra que se vuelve más y más incomprensible para las personas que la pelean, y hasta para los generales que mandan las tropas luchando por Villa, Carranza y las demás figuras caudillescas que reemplazan los mismos caudillos contra los cuales se rebelaron los primeros revolucionarios. Macías queda como el único héroe posible, el buen soldado que lucha sin preguntar por qué causa estará luchando, y exhibe emociones mixtas con respecto a los robos y otros actos violentos a que se consagran los demás. En torno de él orbitan varios caracteres (como el “curro” Luis Cervantes y el “malo” Margarito) que se corrompen como prosigue la guerra, sacando los más despojos que puedan de una guerra que no tiene sentido, buscando con el oro, el dinero, las mujeres y las joyas darse el gusto de sentirse por lo menos enriquecidos por sus esfuerzos.

Trabajo con algunos mexicanos, y cuando les dije que estaba leyendo el libro de Azuela, se pusieron de acuerdo de que Los de abajo es “el libro de la revolución mexicana.” Todos lo habían leído (o si no, no lo admitieron), y es fascinante pensar que tantas millones de personas hayan leído este libro de niño o de joven, en la escuela o en el colegio, y que haya proveído a mucha gente la imagen más nítida de la revolución que tenga. No llego a encontrar una comparación en la historia de mi país, de un libro que haya llegado a representar una guerra entera de forma parecida a Los de abajo. The Red Badge of Courage, quizá. Para mí, ahí queda la importancia de este libro: a pesar de ser una obra de ficción, funciona como un libro de historia, y los personajes que habitan sus páginas son de alguna manera más reales que las mismas figuras históricas. Si alguien me pidiera que le recomendara un libro sobre la revolución mexicana, le diría que leyera este libro. Quizá no cuente las ocurrencias exactamente como pasaron, pero da una idea muy fuerte de cómo era la vida en México durante la guerra.

Y como libro de guerra, es muy bueno. Como dije, es sencillo y no va mucho más allá que las ocurrencias y las emociones de las personas que lucharon en la guerra. Presenta una imagen de los horrores de aquella guerra, y es muy fácil pensar en otras guerras y otras revoluciones y encontrar similitudes entre ellas y la revolución mexicana que está mostrada aquí. Traza una trayectoria de idealismo y entusiasmo inicial seguido por un descenso a un infierno de crueldad y menosprecio de la vida, y es fácil pensar en Rusia, Cuba, Iraq, Afganistán, o donde sea, e imaginar que el mismo proceso haya ocurrido en lo que pasa de los inicios a los finales de cualquiera revolución o guerra.

Recomiendo que cualquiera que se interese por la historia de México lea este libro. El lenguaje, los personajes y los lugares de este libro te ponen en el México de la revolución, y te dan una idea de la vida en México durante los horrores de la guerra. show less