Señor Vivo and the Coca Lord

Dionisio Vivo is a philosophy teacher in Ipasueño, who begins writing letters to the national newspaper about the effects of the coca trade on the people of this unnamed South American country (though, presumably Columbia). He’s a young man, given to idealism, and his letters are full of outrage and obvious concern for the poor of his country. And then corpses begin turning up on his front lawn. His friend, Ramon, an honest (!) policeman finds the message all too clear: the drug lords want Dionisio to stop his tirades against them in the press. A series of assassination attempts fail, leading to speculation that Dionisio is a powerful brujo (witch or wizard). But if his life is somehow charmed, that protection doesn’t necessarily show more extend to those he loves.

What a fun romp of a satire, full of magical realism and totally outrageous scenarios, one more fantastical than the next. I laughed aloud in many places, and cried out in dismay in others.

This is the second in de Bernières “Latin American Trilogy,” after The War of Don Emmanuel’s Nether Parts. While it can be read as a stand-alone novel, the reader who has read the first book will have the background story that explains – if such supernatural elements can be explained – some of the more fantastical plot points and characters.

The language de Bernières employs is nothing short of delightful. Colorful phrases abound, and lend an air of fantasy and mysticism that just tickles my fancy. The story shifts perspective from chapter to chapter, sometimes leaving the reader feeling dizzy and disoriented. But as is true of many novels of this genre, the reader who can suspend disbelief and just go along for the ride will find much to enjoy. show less

What begins as a series of defamatory letters by an anonymous professor regarding the coca trade transforms into an epic in which great loves are met and lost, families are broken, deaths of best friends become common, and the culture of an entire region is changed forever. Denisio Vivo never meant to become an icon, but his prose brought him legendary status which he has no choice but to live up to when the coca lord begins to threaten the people around him. But in the process of becoming a hero he must first lose everything that he ever considered important, because he cannot see things as they are and is thus in denial about the consequences of his actions (and the responses of those he is criticizing). I found this novel tobe very show more moving, but the melancholy tone makes it a slightly less enjoyable read, though I guess thus is typical due to the inherent violence and death that are brought about by the drug trade. show less

Señor Vivo and the Coca Lord is a parody, pastiche and example of magical realism in equal measure—the tale of a philosophy professor, Dionisio Vivo, from a country not unlike Colombia, who begins a war of letters in the newspaper editorial pages against a major drug trafficker, and is forced to end it in great violence. This is not a book for the faint-hearted (I'm not joking about the degree of violence) nor is it a book for someone who finds the magical realism genre tiresome (de Bernières avoids it ever being twee, but it is a bold and sometimes buffoonish element of the book, played for laughs and sarcasm), but if you like your novels in uncompromisingly primary colours, you might well enjoy it. It's not my favourite of his show more books, but I did enjoy it—though having read de Bernières for the first time in a while, since I've started to educate myself a little more about the things which underpin what I read, the fact that it's a white British guy writing a satire set in a Latin American country... I don't know quite how to categorise it, but at times it felt a little—voyeuristic? Is that the right word? There were sections where it felt as if he was almost making another country his playground, and that made for uncomfortable reading. show less

Entertaining pastiche of South American magic realism that sits a little uncomfortably with its more serious message about the all-pervading nastiness of organised crime. The result is a bit like a cross between late Graham Greene and early Tom Sharpe: sometimes brilliant, sometimes very funny indeed, but often just too much of a good thing. I do enjoy the way De Bernières brings Latin-American words and expressions into his very British English, though. Worth reading for the language, but a bit gruesome.

It's taken me a week to write this review. What started out as a gorgeous love story full of joy, and a mythical tale full of wonderment, collapsed suddenly into a bitter and serious tale of loss and violence. The horrid parts are still echoing in my head, and the beauty of the beginning is but a dream. I think it is magnificent. Although I might not cherish it like I did Captain Corelli, I am wiser and richer for reading it.

Second book in the Latin American trilogy. The action continues with characters from the first book, but with a new protagonist, Dionisio Vivo. Vivo writes angry letters to the papers about the drug situation in the country and soon finds himself a target of the eponimous coca lord. Dionisio has the support of his highly educated friend Ramon, a policeman, who plays the sensible foil to his dreamer. Dionisio, in his protest, becomes a powerful symbol of defiance, which seems to protect him from the Coca Lord's assassination attempts. Even el Presidente follows his letters, and from them starts asking of his staff the questions posed by Dionisio.
De Bernieres also writes about the spiritual and superstitious side of life, saints mixed show more with candombe, a blend of the indigenous, catholic and slave cultures. Aurelio el brujo is back, along with the tame jaguars, bringing with him the magical element.
Once again, this is an entertaining and fantastical book, but also brutal as can be expected from a book about the battle between an idealist and a drug lord. For me, the series is going from strength to strength - I have book three ready to go. show less

The second book, which follows The War of Don Emmanuel's Nether Parts. Again, a mixture between very silly and very funny and completely horrendous... and just when it is getting really awful and just too real it goes compeletely left-field and fantastical. Definitely worth reading, but not, perhaps late at night.