After reading and loving Doña Bárbara, I knew that picking up another Gallegos novel would be inevitable. I did not think that it would be as immediate as it was. To even that out, I took forever to read it (eight months or so), including a long pause where I thought I might just be done with it for good (not because it wasn’t good but just because I was too overwhelmed with other things going on in my life).
Such is the draw of Gallegos’s writing is that even though I struggled to understand what was happening for much of the time (his descriptions are beautiful, his characters mysterious, his narrative unique—all of which can be tricky for a non-native language learner to process), I enjoyed every moment that I found myself ponderously progressing through his tale, one page, one paragraph, one piece at a time.
As far as I can remember (I’m writing this months later) and as far as I could decipher (I read it in the original Spanish), here is what this story is about: Marcos Vargas is a young man who hails from a high class background whose family has fallen on hard times with the loss of his father (or because of his father’s mismanagement or mistreatment before he was lost—you see, details are hard in a reading experience such as this!). He manages to purchase a transport company that would take products to and from the vast Venezuelan jungle.
The amiable man he purchases it from gives him sage advice and acts as the father that Marcos has been missing. Marcos meets and hits it off with his daughters (I’m pretty sure that’s who the daughters belong to … could’ve been another guy). He also makes enemies from the other business owners and transporters hoping to benefit from the old guy’s retirement. Marcos has to grow up quickly if he wants to show these guys that he is up to the task of doing business in this wild region of Venezuela.
Someone we respect gets murdered by a creepy hitman who is compared to a panther (confusing, because poor Marty struggled for a time thinking he was reading about an actual panther, not a person compared to a panther). Marcos finds that justice on the edge of civilization is corrupt or missing and has to take matters into his own hands. However, vigilantism does not garner the fulfillment that either Marcos or we, the audience, expect.
Time passes, Marcos becomes more and more hardened by his experiences, more wise with the passage of youth, less innocent. At some point, he refuses to find shelter as a hurricane slams into the jungle where he faces it, naked and alone. It’s a metaphor for something, I’m sure. My guess is it’s about the barbaric nature of mankind … or something. I do know that the scene is haunting, gripping, and significant—even if I can’t tell you exactly how! Afterwards, he is not the same. He is both humbled and withdrawn, he is wise but bitter (maybe?). It wraps things up after that, and not in the way it was supposed to, dangit!
Canaima was hard on multiple levels for me. It was hard to understand, first and foremost. I mean, for the majority of the time, I understood each sentence that I read. I could tell you the main points from each chapter. Heck, looking back at my summary, I’m surprised that I got as much out of it that I did … which is why it was hard. It felt like in a few crucial spots, I missed something important or pivotal, so that moving forward I was always trying to piece together why the characters were acting just a little bit off, or why someone was missing or had shown up all of the sudden. So, that was a challenge. But again, looking back, I can’t say that I didn’t understand it, because it looks like I got the gist of it pretty well.
The other way it was hard, though, is that it was hard to finish in the way that Gallegos finishes. He does not give us the fully satisfying ending that we desire or that the characters deserve. That’s hard. I mean, he does it in Doña Bárbara, so I think it was a reasonable expectation that he would do it again here. Yet he doesn’t, which was low-key tragic. At the same time, I was not annoyed by it. Oftentimes when an author changes an ending in such a way, it feels manufactured, a deliberate attempt to make themselves more important than the story. Here, though, while I disliked it and wanted a different outcome—the right one!—I did not entirely disagree with it. And I felt that the message, even if it was one that I did not completely connect with, was a real one, one true to the author’s feelings—perhaps about Venezuela, or the nature of man, or something else. But this change of expected ending was not about Gallegos, it was about his experience, and it is as true as it is disappointing, though not completely disheartening.
Overall, I found that the experience of reading Gallegos again is rewarding, no matter the outcome of the characters of his stories. I may need a break for longer this time, because he can be hard on me! But when I decide to go back (I’ve got one downloaded and read to start … dangerous!), I’ve no doubt that I will find it worthwhile. He’s that good.