Más allá del Golfo de México narra los incidentes del viaje hecho por Huxley a través de Centroamérica, el Caribe y el sur de México, donde los paisajes, las personas y los múltiples incidentes sirvieron como punto de partida para sus diversas reflexiones entorno al arte, la política, la cultura y otros temas. Este libro nos permite apreciar una dimensión poco conocida de la obra de Huxley.
Aldous Leonard Huxley was an English writer and philosopher. His bibliography spans nearly 50 books, including non-fiction works, as well as essays, narratives, and poems. Born into the prominent Huxley family, he graduated from Balliol College, Oxford, with a degree in English literature. Early in his career, he published short stories and poetry and edited the literary magazine Oxford Poetry, before going on to publish travel writing, satire, and screenplays. He spent the latter part of his life in the United States, living in Los Angeles from 1937 until his death. By the end of his life, Huxley was widely acknowledged as one of the foremost intellectuals of his time. He was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature nine times, and was elected Companion of Literature by the Royal Society of Literature in 1962. Huxley was a pacifist. He grew interested in philosophical mysticism, as well as universalism, addressing these subjects in his works such as The Perennial Philosophy (1945), which illustrates commonalities between Western and Eastern mysticism, and The Doors of Perception (1954), which interprets his own psychedelic experience with mescaline. In his most famous novel Brave New World (1932) and his final novel Island (1962), he presented his visions of dystopia and utopia, respectively.
Disappointing and by far the worst book I've read of Huxley's.
It's his travelogue of a trip he took to Guatemala and Mexico in the early 30s. His observations of the culture and people are occasionally interesting, but on the whole shockingly arrogant, condescending and patronizing. He repeatedly emphasizes the ugliness of the Indians, their goods, and their buildings, often treating them as if they were sub-human. One of the most egregious passages: "Indian men are often handsome; but I hardly ever saw a woman or young girl who was not extremely ugly." Later he describes the contestants in a beauty pageant as "oxen."
He spends a lot of time describing the architecture, especially the churches, almost all of which bored me. Worse, he seems to fancy himself a type of expert on the subject, so he describes it with the full force of his British snobbery. Apparently he's also an expert on poetry (criticizing Milton and Pope), music, religion, and sociology.
He also seems to possess a disturbing perspective of science, technology and state control. I would not expect the man who wrote Brave New World to advocate the state control of emotional pleasure, which he un-ironically does here. Elsewhere he claims that the only way to combat the evils of science is to further develop science.
Most shocking is that as I was nearing the end I discovered that this was actually written after "Brave New World." I had been assuming for most of the book that it was a young and immature Huxley that I was reading. Nothing else explained the sheer arrogance and priggishness that seep forth from almost every page. How disappointing to find out that these were the mature thoughts of a nearly 40-year-old man. . .
Maybe eating all that mescaline in the 50s mellowed him out some?
Aldous Huxley's Beyond the Mexique Bay is the work of one of my literary heroes. I guess that, if one lives long enough, one sees the weak points in one's heroes. Huxley spent months traveling across Guatemala and Mexico without any understanding of or even predilection toward the Pre-Columbian cultures from which today's Mestizo cultures evolved.
I would trust Huxley on the ancient cultures of the Mediterranean in a heartbeat. But when he is faced with Maya religious syncretism at Chichicastenango in Guatemala, it is as if he is dealing with some extraterrestrial alien cultural phenomenon. So it's wildly different from ancient Mediterranean religious practices, and certainly from Christianity. But remember that the Maya have not only survived the Spanish conquest: They can be found in Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, Belize, and Honduras some six million strong.
The culture is so prevalent that it has developed some thirty different Mayan dialects that are so different from one another that they can almost be classified as separate languages altogether.
Perhaps I am expecting too much of an Englishman of some eighty years ago. They just didn't teach the Pre-Columbian cultures at Oxford and Cambridge, let alone in the English public schools of the era. Only now are scholars beginning to understand what these cultures were all about.
I made it less than one hundred pages into this before the racism, condescension and general disgust for mankind (especially those not fortunate enough to be born into an incredibly wealthy and influential aristocratic family) became too much for me. I was looking forward to when Huxley made his way towards the part of Guatemala that I was once fortunate enough to call home, but despair set in when he took time away from praising colonialism to mock women from Guatemala City for not keeping up sufficiently with French fashion.
On my short list for biggest waste of paper and binding in the twentieth century.
The book starts with an amazing description of what life will be in the future. After that first chapter everything goes down hill, and I felt emotional pain for each extra page I had to go through. Perfect for masochists, and if you are latino and really like racism and "malinchism" then this book is for you.
If you're looking for a good example of how stuck-up and racist pre-WWI British people were, then by all means, read this book. Otherwise, don't bother. Huxley's views of the "natives" of Yucatan makes me ashamed to say I've even set foot on British soil.
Offers a look inside the mind of Aldous Huxley during his trip through Mexico and Central America. Some of his views would be considered racist in modern times, but it is interesting to read his observations of his travels. He speaks about the pros and cons of colonization and also his views on the lifestyle of the natives in each region. As per Huxley tradition, there are just some really good pieces of literature/rants that stand on their own. But also, makes me judge a part of Huxley's character based on what he mentions in some passages. I recommend this book only if you're really interested in the man who is Aldous Huxley.
Rather scattered and hardly Huxleyan in a sense. If I'm not mistaken this was essentially contracted drivel. Authors in this time were expected to churn books out with an uncomfortable regularity and as a result, not all works are masterpieces.
I read this book some 40 years ago. It was written some 40 years prior to that. It is basically a travelogue where Huxley takes a trip into the interior Mexico. Mexico's condition was pathetic according to Huxley's description.
"Anthropology like charity should begin at home" but seeing as how he's already on his journey Aldous decides to skip his own advice. Culturally insensitive and downright rude at times, I think I can safely assume that Aldous' racialized descriptions of the locals is what has been garnering this such poor reviews. With that I think it's worth pointing out that Aldous Huxley was a British intellectual, from the University, writing in the 30's… I'm not surprised that he's incredibly uncomfortable around poor, "uneducated", native people, because his writing certainly betrays this. Even Orwell was unable to keep to himself about his distaste for how some of the lower class smelled, and particularly their filthy habits.
Now. If you can get beyond the occasional questionable dialogue this is an entertaining and fascinating book. His descriptions of landscapes, artwork, ruins, architecture, history, etc are very well written and make for engaging reading. Straying from the general point of a travel log quite frequently he does go off on tangents: Nazi Germany (published 1934), industrial slums, mass media and manipulation, etc. But these are welcome distractions and while not always staying in theme they are enlightening nonetheless. I think that Aldous' presumptions about the native peoples, though mostly sympathetic, was done to enhance his own arguments and thoughts, but brought them across as caricatures and that's unfortunate. A study between 'civilization' and 'primitivism' and their respective benefits/detriments, but it seems like a lot of his more hurried arguments would've been explained away with a "I'm just calling it how I see it, if you're offended, you're too sensitive" line of reasoning, but I could be wrong.
Aquí uno de esos libros extraños que uno quiere abandonar por tanta arrogancia del autor pero no se puede dejar de leer por lo interesante que resulta.
Es un libro de crónica de viajes pero aderezado con una aguda mirada antropológica, eurocentrista. Creo que es relevante por lo que devela del "alma nexicana" y especialente de Guatemala. Es un libro muy intenso, perspicaz y bien narrado.
Huxley recorre el Caribe, pasa a Centroamérica y se fascina con Guatemala. Brinca a México y no le va también. Pasó dos semanas terribles en una Ciudad de México que ya tenía un millón de habitantes. Libro publicado en 1933 no profundiza en los cambios pos revolucionarios que poco a poco transformaron a México sino en un país rural que empezaba a despertar y Huxley lo comparaba con Estados Unidos o Inglaterra.
A veces fastidia su idea de civilización occidental. Todo el tiempo compara, por ejemplo, el México rural que según al autor seguía anclado al pasado, a un mal pasado que no tiene nada qué ver con el de las civilizaciones mesoamericanas prehispánicas. Aunque destaca las maravillas arquitectónicas de Tikal, Monte Albán y Cholula. Dice que "sus constructores sabían de arquitectura".
Y bueno, en 1933 aún faltaban algunos años para que "la civilización" de occidente mostrara la viga que tenía atorada en el ojo. Con todo eso es un libro indispensable y escrito de manera impecable que uno lanza pestes y al mismo tiempo se asombra hasta la última página.
This is a lovely book to read if you can get beyond the constant references to sad Indians with reptilian eyes. Insightful observations and thought provoking conclusions grace this book in the dozens, but unfortunately so do (what would today qualify as) naked racism and contempt for tropical third-world countries.
As a travelogue, the book excels in description of the spectacular terrain of Central America and in discussion of its ancient cultures but falters whenever Huxley presumably gets cranky due to the heat, which is too many times. Huxley does do the occasional critique of Western and British culture as well but on the whole is misleadingly harsh on the places he visits. It's almost like he had made up his mind about the places before he visited them and even though they challenged his perceptions somewhat, he wants to hold on to his condescension.
Knowing that this is the same person who wrote the brilliant "Brave New World" will get you through this book and if you are willing to give Aldous Huxley a little leeway for being from a different age in history, this book is worth the time you'll spend on it.
This book is an interesting little piece of historical travel writing from Aldous Huxley, written at a time in which Europe was about to head to war against the Nazi threat. He talked a lot about what the Nazi phenomenon meant, and it was weird because he was speculating about whether Nazis would still be around twenty years later. Unfortunately, they still are, just in a different form.
Still, it didn’t hold my attention as much as Huxley’s novels did, and while he is of course a master of non-fiction, there were a fair few off moments. There were also a few points at which he shared some points of view that aren’t very 2021. It felt dated because of that, arguably more so than it did from the world events that he talked about.
With that said, I’ve enjoyed everything that I’ve read by Huxley, and this was no exception. It was also a pleasure to be able to see some of the world, in part because I’ve never had a chance to visit Mexico myself and in part because the world is still struggling to come to terms with COVID-19. What would he have made of the pandemic?
I picked this out of my Father in Laws stash after a recent trip to Riviera Maya to see what our boy Aldous thought about on his trip through that same area some 90 years ago. This travelogue was made up of philosophical and casual writings on his thoughts inspired by this jaunt. He went from dishing on other tourists, to religion, sociology, and politics, the art and meaning of travel to describing food, fashion and architecture, and more. He really covers the gamut of life in this book disguised/described as a travel memoir. This book took a while to get through because so many of his points spurred me to really stop and ruminate before moving on. As an aside, let's be reminded that While Huxley was travelling and writing this in 1933, our man John O'Hara was just starting his career with the book "Appointment in Samarra" about self-destructive lifestyle choices in Pottsville PA, and our friend Ernest Hemmingway was in the middle of his career, living in the Florida Keys, Going on Safari, and fishing in his new boat Pilar. What a time!
Whether you agree or dusagree with Aldous Huxley’s opinions of ‘primitiveness’, women in general, or S American church architecture, there is no denying his ability to cover the ground in his 1930s travel across Central America. His comments about war and the scourge of nationalism resonate today as they did with the Nazis abd other fascists rising to power. I learnt some things about Mayan culture that I didnt otherwise know and am glad I read this book, but prefer his novels - both are thought-provoking. I wonder what brother Julian would have made of the same journer?
In-between racist rantings, Huxley delivers an at best dull monologue of his travels in Central America. His style is monotonously self centred, with reams of pages dedicated to his random, nonsensical and irrelevent philosophical thoughts. The only reason for reading is if one wants to get a flavour of that unfortunate British snobbish attitude that blighted the country at the height of its Empire.
Una excelente redacción, con conclusiones medio ciertas, apenantes y sesgadas sobre mi pais. Un libro reflectivo y divertido en uno de mis generos favoritos, las crónicas de viaje.
A pesar de ser un escrito de 90 años de antigüedad contiene muhas verdades dolorosas que siguen siendo ciertas al día de hoy. Su análisis no deja de ser una visión deprimente y poco informada sobre las culturas centro americanas.
Me sumo al antiprologo de Hernán Lara: Huxley es un ignorante y superficial. Algo por lo que vale el intento acercarse a este texto es que no es un turista genérico, trata de dar sentido a lo que ve y aún más, mira con lupa. Hace un recorrido histórico, económico y social por dónde camina.
Pero a la hora de filtrar con el pensamiento lo que ven sus ojos, sale a relucir esa mezquindad, arrogancia y pedanteria. En fin, hombre blanco con instinto de superioridad.
An amazing book! If you ever wondered what it was like to travel through Central and South America in 1932-33, at the height of the great depression this book is a valuable insight. Huxley is typically razor sharp in his observations and there is much to love and loath. From a modern perspective it has all the trappings of privilege, the perspective of a highly educated wealthy Englishman on tour in primitive countries. It is no less accurate for that.
Surprisingly full of digressions into many different topics, but that made it even better than expected. It's sad to read how he saw Hitler and Mussolini as monsters, and yet was so optimistic that he thought their own people would stop them. That doesn't bode well for our future.
As expected from Huxley: deeply insightful and poetic. Written almost a century ago, this book is yet another beautiful reminder that everything—places, landscapes, technologies, art, culture—changes… everything except human beings.
El autor describe algunas características sociales, culturales, históricas y geográficas de países como México y Guatemala y otras zonas de Centroamérica y el Caribe comparando en algunos apartes, estas culturas con la europea.
Más que una crónica de viajes, termina siendo mitad bitácora de un explorador que interpone ensayos en los que se llega a mostrar como un erudito dueño de la verdad absoluta. Por momentos cerrado a lo nuevo y a la mezcla cultural, por momentos racista y eurocentrista.
An ‘Alpha’ view of the Caribbean, Central America, and southern Mexico by ‘Brave new world’ author. Undeniable smart but very corrosively patronizing description of his understandings during this 1934 trip.
Es un libro racista como solo podría escribirlo un británico que viaja en crucero con cartas membretadas del servicio exterior a principios del siglo XX, pero fascinante como crónica de un viaje por el tercer círculo del infierno mientras en el centro gobiernan los Mussolini, Hitler y Stalin.
Aldous Huxley ya era ese señor iluminado contra el posindustrialismo y el totalitarismo del consumo cuando publicó este libro –el viaje a México y Centroamérica que relata es de 1933, un año después de publicar Brave new world–, pero tiene menos luces cuando escribe en primera persona. Su aporofobia, su incomodidad al visitar comunidades locales, su paternalismo y su miedo constante al hombre ebrio o su desprecio a la mujer indígena sorprenden viniendo de su literatura. Pero creo que ahí está la gracia del libro, inadvertida por el autor y madurada por el tiempo.
Es un libro luminoso solo porque revela un estilo de viaje y una cara de la colonización que ha acelerado hasta nuestro tiempo. La gentrificación, los nómadas digitales, los pensionistas pobres que viven como reyes en países del cono sur... todo eso ya existía hace un siglo. Huxley es un turista impune, un burgués que vivía como un rey en el extranjero y era un paria en su país. Son simples impresiones de un salvador, pues.
Esta observación del criollo haciendo las compras, por ejemplo, no envejece: “The covered market was as large as several cathedrals and crowded. Tiny Indian women, carrying their own weight in farm produce and always with a baby or two slung like haversacks over their shoulders, moved hither and thither silently on bare feet. Whole families of dark-skinned peasants squatted immovably in the fairway. Ladino housewives stood bargaining at the stalls. The tone of their voices when they spoke to the Indian vendors was either arrogant or, if meant to be kindly, condescending. Central American half-castes are brought up to be a good deal more Aryan than the Aryans. Their attitude towards those who, after all, are their mothers’ people, is almost invariably offensive. They despise the Indians, take no interest in their customs, and feel it as a personal offence that a foreigner should pay so much attention to them. A sense of inferiority calls –with what dismal regularity!– for overcompensation. How much of every human being is an automaton? Three-quarters? Four-fiths? Nine-tenths? I do not know; but in any case the proportion is depressingly high. In all our Central American wanderings we did not meet a single ladino who was not overcompensating”.
Menos logrado y algo vergonzoso es el sarcasmo con el que encara cualquier insurrección que ponga en peligro su privilegio de intelectual y turista de lujo. Por ejemplo, cuando un borracho le pide que se vaya después de pasarse unas horas observando los bailes de las festividades navideñas de una comunidad guatemalteca: “There seemed no reason why such a performance should ever come to a stop. But we were not to be given the opportunity of matching our endurance against that of the Indians. After the third or fourth bout of dancing, the propietor of the rancho came up to us anf firmly but still, though he was manifestly rather drunk, politely asked us to go away. ‘You wouldn’t like us to come and look on while you were busy with your costumbres’ he said. The argument was unanswerable. I can imagine few things that would embarrass me more than to have a party of Quichés looking on in observant silence while I went through the curious old custom, say, of taking tea in Bloomsbury”.
Me divirtió un par de días. Antropológicamente es poco útil, pero me quedo con las descripciones de las fronteras porosas de la selva, la ambigüedad entre haciendas y territorios comunales, la desolación de los pueblos de montaña, su descripción obsesiva de las maravillas arqueológicas. Me divirtió, también, enterarme de que la edición en inglés está perdida desde los ochenta, pero que en México se editó en 2015. ¿Para qué?
Nunca antes me había costado tanto leer un libro debido a la arrogancia del autor. En este libro, Huxley me ha dejado peor que decepcionada, sus descripciones son pobres y sus conjeturas son explicaciones que se estrellan en la nada; el libro contiene un sin fin de errores históricos acerca de Latinoamérica, sazonados con las especias británicas y racistas de Huxley. ¿Por qué los viajes a Latinoamérica se han vuelto menesteres para los escritores anglosajones? Me parece que la respuesta está implícita en la frialdad del continente europeo y el calor latinoamericano, México y Sudamérica despierta pasiones y aún cuando al llegar se sienten conmocionados por el accidente cultural, sus compensaciones inconscientes no logran huir (de la gran mayoría de escritores) y parece que vuelve a latir la vena de sus antepasados. Poseer Latinoamérica ya no es posible, sin embargo, siempre ha sido y será difícil escapar a sus encantos, como cualquier amante erótica, es amada y odiada. Esta dualidad está presente alrededor del texto de Huxley y se extiende más allá de la crítica y el sin sabor de sus pensamientos chuscos que rayan en lo risible.