When a crime novel of 264 pages (of which the last five pages are devoted to an afterword) has its most interesting bit of action begin around page 190, it’s not going into my ‘must read again’ pile.
To be honest, I’d never heard of (let alone read) Juan de Recachoechea before. But, having taken on a self-imposed challenge of trying to read as many books as I could from across the world, I was looking for authors from Bolivia who’d had their works translated into English, and chanced upon Juan de Recachoechea’s supposedly Chandler-ish noir novel, American Visa. I usually find crime fiction interesting, and Chandler is classic enough, so I was willing to give this a try.
The story is straightforward enough: Mario Alvarez, a teacher from a provincial town, arrives in the capital, La Paz, so that he can visit the American Consulate and get himself a visa to visit his son in Florida. Alvarez has very little money, so he stays in a seedy little hotel (where he quickly makes friends with other occupants, including a whore named Blanca, whom he is instantly attracted to). In between visiting La Paz’s red light area, stealing books, getting acquainted with (and being attracted to) a high-society lady, being left in mid-orgasm by another high-society lady, and just generally painting the town red, Alvarez realizes that the papers he’s had forged to help support his documents will almost certainly be caught by the Americans. His visa will be turned down, and he will be barred from trying again.
So Alvarez sidles away from the American Consulate without even trying, and ends up discovering the existence of a travel agency that can help process American visas—for $800. No hassles at all. Except, Alvarez has nowhere close to that amount.
This is the set-up, and how Alvarez gets the money and what happens thereafter is what comprises the last seventy pages of American Visa.
My main problem with this book was its rambling, going-all-over-the-place nature. Alvarez (whom we get to know fairly well, since the book is written in first person, from his perspective) takes his time getting to the Consulate, then figuring out what to do, and meanwhile spending his time gallivanting around, getting stoned and getting laid. We are treated to far too much about characters and locales that eventually don’t even really matter in the book. True, they do contribute something to American Visa, since they help create an image of a seedy, corrupt, crazy city (the highest capital in the world), but other than that, they don’t help the story much. There are too many digressions—the stuff about the men symbolically crucifying themselves, for instance, or the very long section devoted to the transvestite Gardenia and his friends—that dilute the main story.
If all you want is the ‘noir’ feel, there’s noir enough here; American Visa has all the sleaze, and then some, of classic noir. But the core story is hidden so deep and is so short that it ends up being deeply dissatisfying.