In an online course on historical fiction, one of the guest lecturers, Professor Gustavo Pellon from the University of Virginia, spoke passionately about Sylvia Iparraguirre’s novel, a beautifully written and haunting account of the historical encounter between the captain and crew of the HMS Beagle and the indigenous peoples of Tierra del Fuego.
The Beagle is of course most famous for its connection to Charles Darwin and the ideas he formulated while on board. But the focus of this story is on the first voyage, in 1830, and the decision of the young captain Robert FitzRoy to take back with him to London three Patagonian Indians, a woman and two men, one of whom is dubbed Jemmy Button by his British "hosts"/captors. The trio is paraded around London. Once their novelty has worn off for the aristocracy and the royal family, they are sent to be "civilized" at a school in the country. Two years later, FitzRoy sails back to Patagonia in the Beagle, this time with Darwin aboard (we get only brief glimpses of him), to return the Fuegians to their homeland. FitzRoy is convinced that his "experiment" will work and that the three "converts" will civilize the other Yamana Indians. He is wrong.
But perhaps the most fascinating character is the narrator, an invention of the author, who serves to tie the historical characters and events together, but who is so much more than a plot device. The story is told from Jack Guevera's perspective as he reflects, three decades later, over what took place when he was 18 years old and a sailor aboard the Beagle. He himself is caught between two worlds, his mother the daughter of an old established Argentine family of Spanish descent who disinherited her when she took up with a British soldier and had a child with him out of wedlock. Identity and belonging, coming to grips with not only national history but personal history, are explored in the novel most powerfully through the characters of the fictional Jack Guevera and the historical Jemmy Button, who Guevara is drawn to.
Guevara has been asked to write an account of what transpired thirty years before by the British Admiralty. But what to say of Jemmy Button? Which Jemmy Button? "...the man called Jemmy Button by the English but whose real name, his Yamana name, almost no one ever knew? The Indian in the top hat, with cheekbones shining under the top hat, wearing a frock coat, a kind of coachman, stubby and grotesque, a Button, submissive and smiling, tossing coins into the air above the grimy paving stones of London? Or the savage from Cape Horn, naked under the icy rain, with his body stinking of seal grease, the part in his hair nonexistent and his face smeared black? Or, in the end, the aging and impassive man I saw years later on the bench for the accused during the trial in the Islands, whose eyes, fearless in their sunken sockets, looked for the last time at the whites, the white men who came from the east?”
It is on the return voyage, when they are bringing Jemmy Button back to his people, that Jemmy tells Guevara the name his people have for Guevara's people:
"Palala," he said, startling me. I was half asleep. "Palala!"
"What is that?" I said, half sitting up and resting my elbow on the sand.
"My people’s word for your people," Button said. "Palala: people who nobody can understand."