Half the people we meet, we get wrong.
These words could describe the theme of Nicholas Shakespeare’s moody, stylish, and atmospheric political thriller, The Dancer Upstairs. Set in Latin America during "the recent past," Shakespeare doesn’t specifically name the country in which his novel takes place, although we know it’s Peru and we know The Dancer Upstairs is really a fictionalized account of the pursuit and capture, in September 1992, of Abimael Guzman, leader of Peru’s Shining Path.
The protagonist of The Dancer Upstairs is Augustin Rejas, an ex-lawyer-turned-policeman who is assigned the task of tracking down the elusive and enigmatic Ezequiel Duran, a former professor of philosophy and a man Rejas has met briefly in the past.
The mysterious Ezequiel now considers himself the "Fourth Flame of Communism," after Marx, Lenin and Mao. Whether or not Ezequiel truly is the "Fourth Flame of Communism" is really immaterial. What does matter is that Ezequiel is a terrorist, bent on inciting the people to riot and responsible for tens of thousands of deaths.
Ezequiel’s methods are bizarre and they add to the haunting imagery and mystery of this book. In the cities, Rejas sees dead dogs strung up on lampposts, explosives tied to their tails. Signs written in blood proclaim, "Long live President Ezequiel." But Ezequiel is not president. Multi-colored cockerels and parrots fly about with sticks of dynamite tied to their claws, and perhaps worst of all, small children engage in suicide missions, blowing themselves to smithereens even as they destroy homes, shops, and government buildings. It is Ezequiel, say the peasants, who is responsible for all of this death and destruction.
Ezequiel has exerted an almost hypnotic hold over the people; he exerts an almost hypnotic hold over Augustin Rejas. And, he exerts a definite hypnotic hold over the reader. In fact, Shakespeare seems to have taken a leaf from the pages of Conrad's Heart of Darkness, for Ezekiel is much like Kurtz...bizarre, isolated, and perhaps even mad. Stranger still, is the fact that Ezekiel makes no demands of either the citizens or the government. What he wants, and what he hopes to gain, are not clear.
While The Dancer Upstairs is, in part, the story of Rejas’ hunt for Ezequiel, Shakespeare also weaves another plot strand through the narrative of this book, this one a bittersweet tale of love.
Although Augustin Rejas is a married man, he’s not a happily married one. He and his wife, Sylvina are not a good match. Augustin is a deeper and more passionate person than is Sylvina, who becomes more and more obsessed with trivialities.
As Sylvina spends more and more time away from home, Augustin finds himself falling in love with his daughter, Laura’s, ballet instructor, the beautiful, passionate, and mysteriously unattached, Yolanda. Unlike Sylvina, Yolanda is deeply insightful and introspective. Also, at times, Yolanda seems to care for Augustin as much as Augustin cares for her, though both know their love is, for many reasons, doomed. And things become even more complicated when Augustin comes to the heartbreaking realization that Ezekiel’s path and Yolanda’s path intersect, time and time again.
The Dancer Upstairs is heavily infused with the torpor, the languidness, and the fatalism of the tropics. This was an aspect of the book that I liked extremely, but some readers might feel these atmospheric qualities slowed the novel’s pace a bit too much. And the book is slow. It also meanders in focus from Ezequiel to Yolanda, then back to Ezequiel again. I definitely feel that some readers, especially those liking fast paced thrillers, will find this book too languid, and also too stingy with details, too amorphous. The Dancer Upstairs is definitely a character-driven novel as opposed to a plot-driven one.
The ending is different in that there is a seemingly inconsistent turn of events. Some readers will see this turn of events coming long before it actually happens, while others will be totally surprised. To me, the ending, while still being consistent with all that came before, was a bit of a letdown, a bit anti-climactic. Shakespeare built us up for a huge payoff and what we get is a payoff that is, at best, mediocre. I didn’t want to be able to guess the ending of the novel, but sadly, I could.
Despite the fact that I didn’t find The Dancer Upstairs perfect, I thought it was very good, certainly far above average. The moody, atmospheric languor of the tropics had me hooked on the very first page and it never really let me go. And the fully realized character of Augustin Rejas was one I enjoyed spending time with, and one who, in the end, broke my heart.
P.S. The movie adaptation with Javier Bardem is, I think, wonderful. Don’t miss it.