People always repeat the phrase, "don't judge a book by its cover", but the cover of my copy of THE REAL LIFE OF ALEJANDRO MAYTA expresses the content more appropriately than almost any other cover I can remember in that it points directly to Peru and the central problem of literature. A mass of Peruvian-style figures stand in darkness, almost obscured. You have to look carefully to see them at all. A single chink in the cell door, a single beam of light in a dark place---all that is revealed in color are the eyes and brow of a solitary man. Do we know what is happening in Peru---exploited, misgoverned, racked by revolution and poverty ? Can we know what really happens in life ? Can we understand the motivations and deepest emotions of other human beings ? Can literature actually create or, at least, reproduce these ? Vargas Llosa creates a gripping novel out of unlikely pieces. An obscure Trotskyite revolutionary, a member of a party whose membership stands at seven, gets involved in an uprising in an Andean town in 1958. The author-as-narrator is in Paris at the time. He returns to Peru later and in 1983, spends a year trying to track down the people involved (family, colleagues, co-conspirators), to learn what motivated this event and its central character, Alejandro Mayta. He interviews everyone he can find. We jump between these interviews and the re-creation (or is it the actual truth ?) of what happened twenty-five years before. The time line is obscured. We shift constantly between two or more times on every other page, sometimes even on one page. This is a literary trick which some people may find annoying or disconcerting, yet I urge you to stay with the novel. Slowly, the author puts together a picture of an idealistic revolutionary who dissented from nearly everything. The sources tell him of a homosexual dreamer who lived a secretive life in every respect, who had no money, and who was (or wasn't) the inspiration behind the Andean mini-revolt of 1958. "If he had been able to control his sentiments and instincts, he wouldn't have led the double life he led, he wouldn't have had to deal with the intrinsic split between being, by day, a clandestine militant totally given over to the task of changing the world, and, by night, a pervert on the prowl..." We begin to understand Mayta, though some of the interviewees are obviously lying. But Vargas Llosa creates a present (1983) in which Peru is overwhelmed by a Vietnam-like war---invaded by leftwing Cuban and Bolivian forces with Soviet help, who are counterattacked by American marines and airforce. Cuzco is destroyed, the country is collapsing. Though Sendero Luminoso did bring Peru almost to its knees, none of this happened. So can we believe the stories told by everyone about Alejandro Mayta ? Is the story about Mayta years ago true as written by our narrator ? I mean, he's obviously exaggerating even about the present. Suddenly, after a vivid description of the uprising, the narrative ends. The Rashomon-like last 34 pages reveal everything or nothing. We are left with questions, but no answers. Vargas Llosa writes, "Since it is impossible to know what's really happening, we Peruvians lie, invent, dream, and take refuge in illusion. Because of these strange circumstances, Peruvian life, a life in which so few actually do read, has become literary." No matter what you decide, if you live in Peru, you'll have to face the garbage in the streets. In America, it's on TV. There's a lot of garbage around us. Is it in people's minds as well ? Can there be truth ? This is the question this powerful, disturbing book leaves with you. A tour de force.
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