Zorro - #10

I did not have high hopes for this book. For some reason, some where I had read that it was terrible. I personally think that review was unfounded and untrue. Was it Dickens? No. Does everyone now have a picture of Charles Dickens dressed as Zorro in their mind? Yes. I am happy to have helped. Let me help you more.

Right. I, however, had Antonio Banderas in my head for this whole book, which is wonderful. Slightly strange while Diego was a boy, and he was just a mini version, but it worked. The story is a wonderful swashbuckling adventure throughout California (which was then a part of Mexico and a Spanish colony), mainly around LA and Spain, mainly in Barcelona. It follows Diego up until the point he is established as the Zorro we all know. There are sword fights, duels, love, Gypsies, horse riding, pirates, Native Americans, gambling, whoring. It’s fun.

Am I therefore cheating having it as my Chilean read as it is not set in Chile? Very probably. It was on my bookshelf though and that was one of my rules; that I read what was on my shelf first. I broke it once and I can’t do it again. We have run out of room for more books. My partner is trying to put up shelves in the house for more books, but it is just resulting in the house smelling like wood stain (as we can’t open it up as it has been -6 all week), lots of holes in walls, and one exploded drill. He’ll get there and he’ll do it better than me. But in the meantime, I must read my already acquired books.

Also, who else do you think of as a Chilean writer than Isabel Allende? The House of Spirits was amazing! It probably helped that I had just done a Sociology unit (my god the website is still active 8 years on) on South America and it’s dictators, their overthrowing by socialists and then overthrowing of the socialists by military junta backed by the US. Chile was one of these countries (I say one, as it happened in most of them. Astounding). So reading that story that talked about these happenings from the family involved’s perspective was wonderful. That and I think she is a brilliant storyteller.

That storytelling brilliance was evident again in this book. You were easily whisked away on the journey and adventure. You were pulled into the Californian desert or the streets of Barcelona. What was jarring however was that while the book was told in the majority in third person (and worked wonderfully), every now and then there would be a narrator that jarringly popped their head in. The first time I was shocked. It was like someone had burst in on my dream and started telling me what’s what, while I was trying desperately to work out who the hell this person was and how the hell they got into my head. Then they popped in and out every 50 pages or so, talking in first person, telling you little snippets about Diego’s character (kinda worked it out already little dream invader, but cheers for that) or how they know Diego *sooo* well, or guess what happens later!

This dream invading narrator needed a good slap. But when they disappeared and left you to the story it was enjoyable and fun. I want to go swashbuckling. 3.5 sabre wielding stars.





Next: Burma with Saving Fish from Drowning

The Lacuna - #5

Straight up. I will make no apologies but I was brought up on musicals. 1950s musicals to be exact. According to my wonderful father, Frank Sinatra is the best singer, Fred Astaire is the best dancer, but Gene Kelly is just the best. This has nothing to do with this book, besides the fact that my mind thinks in musicals and finds links to any song possible. Which is helpful as a singer. However reading a book (as demonstrated in the last post) can be very annoying.

So, this book had Living Lacuna Loca in my head the entire time. While not Ricky Martin's fault, as it is not the actual title of the song, I am still annoyed.

That being said. That is where my usual "annoyance" ends.

This is a brilliant book. Not perfect but pretty damn close. I loved The Poisonwood Bible, and this is comparable.  Harrison's childhood and then young adulthood in Mexico was tangible. Parts of it made it feel like I could reach out and touch things. You respect Harrison and wish, no LONG, things to work out better for him.

You love Trotsky and Kahlo as secondary characters. Frida Kahlo was a big thing here in Canberra while I was in College (Yrs 11-12 for non-Canberrans). She had a exhibition here then, yes 50 years after her death,  and made a stir. One of my favourite Aussie bands mentions her in one of their songs of that time (also in my head the entire time).

Besides the brilliant first half of the book in Mexico, the rest of the book leaves me terrified in America. I'm not going go in to an anti-American diatribe. But the the last half of the book, with it's anti-Communist-for-the-sake-of-it focus is heart breaking. Not the author's point of view but the society's.

I have never ever though about post war America. My father mentioned above was a kid when the war hit. He lived in England, in the North, and he met so men who trained up North and were fed at his Grandmother's house and went to war. He was a sailor in Korea and Vietnam and trained in the States, but you could not get him to say a nice thing about the States in WWII. To them and him, America only came in when they themselves were threatened.

I am not going to argue with anyone here. My father is gone so I can't convince him otherwise. My point is as an Australian with a Yorkshireman as a father who lived through the war, I never though about America post war. It just happened, and then there was Mad Men. But this book explained, if it was close to what happened, the American psyche. It explained to me the terror, the void of identity, that needed to be plugged. It if nothing else explained to me the blatant fear of socialism and communism that exists in the country today.

I don't need a political debate and that is not what I am after. However, when a President for example looks at introducing something the rest of the Western world has and is labelled a Communist or/and a Socialist, the end of this book explains why that is so for the rest of us who cannot fathom it. Too us it is madness, this book explains where madness comes from.

It was amazing, liberating, for a borderline socialist, invigorating, historically balanced, and just bloody well written. I may have a girl crush. I also crave enchiladas. So 4.5 controversial stars from me.




Next: The Elegance of the Hedgehog in France