As a guide to Latin America of the late 80s and early 90s, of the Contras, Escobar, Noriega and Shining Path—and many events we in the North heard far less about—Alma Guillermoprieto brings a measure of style, guts and cool intelligence to her essays equal to that of any living journalist. Although no longer current events, the vitality of her writing makes every one of these stories feel as urgent and relevant as the day they were written. Each is a glimpse into countries convulsing with change, seemingly on the point of doom or salvation, that had me running to Wikipedia after every essay to find out what happened next.
Her writing has a way of revealing truth indirectly. She explores one issue and reveals another, much larger one in the process. She quotes an assassin, executive or miner and it's not what they say, but what they don't, that speaks most loudly and betrays them. Even when writing on such narrow topics as the glamorous, sordid world of Brazilian telenovelas, or the post-NAFTA hardship of Mexican mariachis, she uses these entry points to give a wide-angle view of the country as a whole. As great as her talent is for uncovering truth, it's her ability as a reporter to reserve judgment that I most admired. She risks her life to tell more than a few of these stories, going where others had gone and were killed, and one has the sense that she's seen it all. At one point, after listing atrocities committed by Shining Path guerillas—the disemboweling of babies, human bonfires—she goes on to describe, in almost affectionate detail, a leaked tape in which the group's leader and his wife dance at a party. "He dances with great conviction and good rhythm while Iparraguirre encircles him with dainty steps and a shower of glances that are at once flirtatious, tender, and protective. His followers watch adoringly. One could almost wish them well." There's no pretense to her, no embarrassment or flinching at the extreme realities of life and death. In part I believe she's too smart, too knowing to accept any issue as simply black or white, but I also believe she respects the reader enough to allow them to come to their own conclusions.
I was frankly reluctant to review a book this good. It's surprisingly funny, in spite of its often dark subject matter, and not at all short on juicy details. Alma has a generous wit and has clearly learned some tricks from her deep reading of trashy gossip columns. My only small gripe was with her somewhat disingenuous portrayal of the drug trade, repeatedly asserting the perspective that the US and its appetite for drugs, not the production of them, is the entire source of the problem. This is an important book, and by the end one marvels that it even exists. It could not have been written without a journalist like Alma, willing to stake her own life and pursue these stories when almost anyone else would've turned back.