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368 pages, Paperback
First published June 24, 2014
Theo paused, then went on: "Closer to home, take the death of Juan Garcia Elorria. It was apparently a car accident. But a lot of people wanted to silence him. He was the editor of 'Christianity and Revolution.' Either way, the magazine didn't survive his death."The "dirty war" was, at one time, an important subject to bring to the fore. But in addition to the histories and memoirs, there have now been a number of novels written about it. What may make Betancourt's different is her use of magic realism to offset the hard facts, and including scenes set thirty years later. But other novels, such as Perla by Carolina De Robertis, have used magical devices, and more effectively than Betancourt. She gives Julia an inherited "gift" that enables her to foresee terrible events in a trance, and so be better equipped to cope with them. I think it is supposed to prolong the dread of approaching terror, but the visions are too detailed to work that way. Instead it turned the book into a mere sequence: "Sometime I'm going to be tortured… Now I'm being tortured… Now I'm trying to recover." And while US sections would seem to be an interesting way to study the effects of delayed PTSD, there is something so predictable in the suburban story of adultery in a tired marriage to be a worthy counterpoint to the genuine anguish suffered by countless young men and women a great deal more real than Betancourt's Julia.
This Connecticut wind is strangely similar to the wind of her Buenos Aires childhood. It’s not as intense perhaps; lighter, more delicate. Or perhaps not. She knows from experience that memory can’t be relied on to capture the true essence of things. The present often seems less vibrant than our recollections of the past.
All at once she couldn’t see. She thought she had fallen into the River of Silver. She was suffocating, trapped inside a thick white substance with no taste or smell. Disconnected from her body, petrified and blinded, she floated in a state of nothingness. She would remember that moment for the rest of her life. Emptied of her being, she understood what it meant to die.
We think people who live in poverty are different, feel differently, because they are used to being destitute. They bother us because they mar the beauty of our capital city. Gradually we forget that they’re human beings. It’s not much of a stretch from there to putting them into concentration camps.
There’s no instruction manual. With or without the gift, we all face the same difficult condition of living with the awareness of our own mortality, even as we believe ourselves to be eternal. We all have a longing to break free from the shackles of time. But you and I know from experience that there are escape routes, that freedom is possible.
He would hold on to her for a moment to hear her beg, then let go, and her body, her name, and her entire existence would disappear for all time, swallowed up by the dark waters of the estuary. Julia didn’t know what she was more afraid of: being hooked up to la máquina again or being thrown alive from an airplane into the sea.