Francisco Goldman, "The Long Night of the White Chickens." Atlantic Monthly Press, 1993.
Another book that I’ve had for a very long time. This is Goldman’s first novel. I’ve also read his non-fiction book, "The Art of Political Murder." Goldman’s mother is Guatemalan, Goldman has spent much time in Guatemala, and he has taken a keen interest in Guatemala throughout his writing career. The book reminds me of Carolyn Forché’s memoir, "What You Have Heard Is True: A Memoir of Witness and Resistance" (2019), about the time she spent in El Salvador in the 1980s. Both resonate with the creepiness of living under a military dictatorship, when life is violent and unpredictable because the government is violent and unpredictable. It also reminded me of Junot Diaz’s novel "The Brief Wonderful Life of Oscar Wao "(2007), and Alexa Hagerty’s forensic memoir "Still Life with Bones: Genetics, Forensics, and What Remains" (2023). In each case, it is about an outsider trying to make sense of something that has happened inside a country which has been roiled by dictatorship and violence, which makes understanding and truth impossible to come by. The country ends up being a huge insoluble puzzle. These are all narratives of frustration, and the attempts to navigate the political, cultural, and personal realms of dictatorship inevitably result in encounters of various levels of threat to psyche, life, and limb.
Although a novel, "The Long Night of the White Chickens" reads more like a memoir where the memoirist is attempting to puzzle something out about their own lives: that is, writing to understand what had been inexplicable. The narrator is Roger Gaetz. His mother is Guatemalan from a well-to-do family, and his father is Jewish. He grows up in a suburb of Boston on the poorer side of middle class. His abuelita provides the family with a maid, Flor de la Mayo Puac, whom she retrieves from an orphanage and sends north as well as paying a monthly salary of $100. When Flor arrives at the Gaetz household, she is 13, or maybe 16, while Roger is 5, having just recovered from a long bout with tuberculosis. Although Flor is ostensibly a maid, Roger’s father treats her more as a daughter, sending her to school, where she does extraordinarily well,ultimately leading to admission to and a degree from Wellesley College. An indigenous orphan from one of the poorest regions of Guatemala finds her way north and graduates from one of the top colleges in the US: an amazing success story. So she decides to go back to Guatemala, at a time when Guatemala is particularly unstable, the early 1980s when the country is in the midst of a series of dictators. Disappearances, death squads, torture, and the “cleansing” of indigenous communities are rampant. Violence can come from the right wing government or the left wing guerillas, and it may be difficult to tell which is which unless one is very much in the know. Flor goes to do good, humanitarian work. She runs a successful orphanage and is mysteriously murdered.
Flor’s murder is at the center of "The Long Night of the White Chickens," which reads in part like a piece of fictive investigative journalism or a detective story. Given all the forces at play, or at odds, in Guatemala, there is no easy path to discovering Flor’s murderer or the motive behind the murder. Instead, what Roger experiences is an endless labyrinth. Roger is obsessed with Flor. He fell for her when she walked in the door when he was five. He grows up with her. They establish a close bond that is a friendship that, as they get older, borders on something more intimate. She is always there for him. Later in the book, both the mother and grandmother say that Flor bewitched Roger (and his father). Flor is an extrovert, a forceful and attractive person who knows how to maneuver around barriers to achieve her aspirations. She acts, makes things happen. Roger watches. He is much more passive, insecure, indecisive, and unsure of himself. He is not motivated by aspiration or achievement. His grades are not good; he goes to a middling state college and works as a bartender after graduation without much of a life plan. But he is fascinated with Flor and has become an adjunct to her life. Her murder becomes a way that he can obsess over her even more. As a result, the book is not simple an investigation into her death but becomes a way that he can think about her entire life, his place in it, and his his feelings about her. As much as it is about Flor, "The Long Night of the White Chickens" is also Roger’s own self-reckoning. To mix metaphors, as the book moves forward, it snowballs as it follows more and more labyrinthine byways as Roger tries to find the truth about Flor’s murder.
There is a third important character in the book, Luis Moya Martinez. During the summer, Roger’s mother sends him to Guatemala to stay with his grandmother. He also attends a prep school for the months that he is there and meets Moya. As outsiders to the other upper class student, Roger and Moya become friends, but there is a break in the friendship, and Roger does not see Moya again until he comes down to Guatemala to retrieve Flor’s body. Moya is a journalist, and he has deftly threaded his way through the obstructions to the press, has maintained something like independence, and has not been killed. Unlike Roger, who is so insecure, Moya is quite self-assured and macho, although perceptive and intelligent as well. He can actually imagine a future where he would rise through Guatemalan society to a position of prestige and power. Moya knew Flor. They were friends, and they became lovers a few weeks before she was killed. A year after Flor’s murder, Roger returns to Guatemala to discover the truth about Flor’s murder. Moya becomes almost as obsessed with discovering Flor’s killer as Roger. Just as Roger’s life narrative is woven into the novel, so is Moya’s. Moya is an aggressive go-getter who, like Flor, knows how to maneuver around barriers to get what he wants. In Flor, he sees someone similar to himself, which is why he finds her attractive. Moya likes assertive, intelligent women who have an inner life. Pursuing such women is an integral part of Moya’s narrative, in contrast to Roger who seems diffident about other women, except Flor. Moya is the antithesis to Roger, and in the many conversations between the two characters Goldman uses Moya as a dialectical counterweight to Roger’s passivity and diffidence to shape Roger’s decisions and actions. Moya is Roger’s guide–his Virgil–in Guatemala, teaching him to decode the labyrinths he encounters, whether in Guatemala City or the highlands (Chichicastengo, Nebaj) where indigenous villages have been emptied out and the villagers often killed by the military.
But is is all for naught. The labyrinth is too labyrinthine. All the possible leads and explanations never lead anywhere definitive, just to more speculations, and the speculations are never satisfying enough. Moya, in the meantime, inadvertently crossed a line with the military and has to quickly go into exile, leaving Roger on his own. The novel then kind of peters out, but I think that’s the point. Roger’s diffidence returns. He follows leads that go nowhere. He is almost victimized by some street kids, and the military has figured out that he may be a threat, and so he too has to exit the country quickly. Most disappointing, Roger takes up with a woman, Zamara, who is Flor’s antithesis. She is a stripper who is trying to make something of herself, but she is not ambitious or intelligent and does not seem to have much of an inner life. She and Roger do have a lot of sex, but when it comes time for him to leave Guatemala he simply abandons her.
By the end of the book, Roger does not seem to have changed at all. Despite the time that he has spent, the paths that he has pursued, the dangers faced, and the epiphanies realized, Roger is still the same passive, diffident, directionless person he was at the beginning of the book. Other things have changed but he has not.