Books

At the Tomb of the Inflatable Pig

Dear Reader, I am still on track to finish one book per month.  I’ve read six so far this year, outpacing my pitiful total in 2007.  Although my three most recent readings focus on Paraguay and have to do with my future assignment there, I am still happy to have had time to read them.  I finished reading "At the Tomb of the Inflatable Pig," a travelogue by British writer John Gimlette.  I also read "Paraguay Under Stroessner," a musty book written in the early 1980’s during the Alfredo Stroessner regime, and "Paraguay:  A Personalist Perspective," an overview of Paraguay written in 1990 immediately following the coup d’état that toppled Stroessner.  Both of the latter books provided excellent, if dated, analyses of Paraguayan history, politics, economics, and culture.  These dry texts provided historical antidotes to the massive gaps left by Gimlette’s sharp-witted, train wreck of a novel.
 
"At the Tomb of the Inflatable Pig" is a fascinating read written geographically rather than chronologically.  It haphazardly chronicles over 500 years of Paraguayan history, detailing intriguing facts, innuendoes, and falsehoods at each place he encountered on his trip throughout the country.  (Contrary to Gimlete’s contention, a full-grown python cannot consume a full-grown man.  The rumor about the missing doctor from Buenos Aires is an urban legend.)  At each stop on his journey, Gimlette jumps to the events most relevant to each location, from the construction of the massive Itaipu Dam on the Paraná River between Paraguay and Brazil in the 1970’s to the devastation of Humaitá during the War of the Triple Alliance (1865-70).  His book ping-pongs through Paraguayan history, leaving one often confused about the country’s chronological history.  The vignettes that Gimlette weaves into the book are colorful and fascinating, albeit fraught with sarcasm that leaves one wondering why he bothered to visit Paraguay in the first place if he seems to despise it so much.  His perspective fluctuates from empathetic to sarcastic to spiteful, like a sharp pendulum sauntering over a helpless victim. 
 
I was surprised to learn that a native Paraguayan who had read the book was disturbed by what thought felt was a willful misrepresentation of their country.  Granted, Gimlette’s book sheds light on Paraguay in a way akin to the manner in which Sasha Baron Cohen’s fictional reporter "Borat" increased awareness of Kazakhstan–Gimlette’s book attracts attention to Paraguay, although not necessarily in a flattering way.  The Paraguayan I talked to mentioned that Gimlette spent just one month in Paraguay collecting research for his book.  In fact, Gimlette’s biography mentioned that he visited Paraguay in 1982 immediately following the Falklands War.  The book implies that it is a bibliography and that Gimlette had lived for quite some time in Paraguay during the Stroessner years.  Just as Dan Brown weaves facts and fiction into "The Da Vinci Code" to give the fictional novel an air of authenticity, so does Gimlette with his novel.  I was disappointed to find out that for all of its colorful imagery and citations of fact, "At the Tomb of the Inflatable Pig" is ultimately fiction.  Given this reality, it is probably best read in conjunction with a truer analysis of the country.
 
I’ve already started reading my next book.  It’s a Spanish version of "The Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe" ("El León, la Bruja, y el Ropero").  I already know how the story ends, so that should help me read a Spanish-language book written for children! 

The end of the Internet universe

I found the end of the far reaches of the Internet today.  The Internet is a very big place with information on virtually everything…
 
…except for a full version of Robert Southey’s epic poem, "A Tale of Paraguay" published in 1825.  Southey, who?  Thou might aske if ye, like mee, be navght an accoemplished scholare of English literatur.  You know, Southey, the English poet who was a member of the "Lake Poets" which including the distinguished William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge.  It was Southey who first penned the famous children’s story, "The Three Bears."  I read about Southey’s tale of Paraguay in another book and wanted to read it.  Southey never visited Paraguay, but he used lands such as Paraguay (and Brazil and the American frontier) as settings to extrapolate his political ideals.  In "A Tale of Paraguay," Southey turned the prose of Jesuit Priest Martin Dobrizhoffer into an allegory promoting the idea of missionary colonialism in the British colonies, just as the Spaniards and Portuguese permitted in their colonial empires.
 
I searched the Web for a full version of this poem and found several books on Southey’s poetry, but I could not find a full version of his poem.  Instead, I found snippets of it available here for your reading pleasure (click on the links):
Unfortunately, to read the entire poem, I have to locate a book of Southey’s poetry and either check it out from the library or buy it online.  The copyright on this poem expired years ago, so "A Tale of Paraguay" is an excellent example of a work in the public domain that should be available online.  Of course, some publishers are still profiting from Southey’s work by publishing collections or analyses of his poetry.
 
Today, I found the end of the Internet universe.  His name is Robert Southey.

The Honorary Consul

Last week I finished "The Honorary Consul," a classic novel set in Northern Argentina during the Alfredo Stroessner Era.  Considered by Graham Greene to be one of his finest works, it’s a story of intrigue dealing with the rebel struggle against the Paraguayan government and a dictator who ruled the country ruthlessly for 34 years.  My wife bought it for me as a Christmas present because of its Paraguayan theme.  I’m spending more time lately reading up on Paraguay because it is a fascinating country and it diverts my attention from learning Spanish 24/7.
 
"The Honorary Consul" is a tragic story with a plot twist that redeems itself at the end.  The characters are vivid, and the story reflects many of Greene’s passions–Catholicism, women, and Paraguay, a country pre-eminent Paraguayan writer Augusto Roa Bastos aptly called "An island surrounded by land."  Set in 1973 during the height of the Stroessner regime, the book captures well the isolation that surrounded Paraguay and the struggle for release from tyranny.  Violence and action are minimal, as befits a classical novel instrumental in the naissance of a new genre, the spy novel.  The protagonist, a tragic figure named Dr. Eduardo Plarr, is a far cry from James Bond, and his mistress, Clara, a former prostitute and wife of the Honorary British Consul, Charles Fortnum, is no Bond girl.  The central figures in the novel, writer Julio Saavedra, Colonel Perez, Dr. Humphries, and Father Rivas, are flawed humans caught up in a drama precipitated by events beyond their control–the oppression of the Stroessner era, a botched kidnapping, a child conceived by Clara that belongs to Dr. Plarr but claimed by her ignorant husband, the Honorable Fortnum.  I loved this book, even though at times the frustrating tragicomedy left me desperate to intervene.  It is truly a classic, and I recommend it to anyone who enjoys spy novels.
 
"The Honorary Consul" is the third book I’ve read this year.  In January I finished "America (The Book)" by Jon Stewart and "Eragon" by Christopher Paolini.  So far I’ve exceeded one of my New Year’s resolutions–spend less time at the computer.  I read more books this year than I did during 2006.  I’m currently reading "At the Tomb of the Inflatable Pig," a travelogue on Paraguay by writer/journalist John Gimlette.  The books’ vignettes are as absurd as the book’s title.  I am enjoying it immensely.  I also checked out a couple of texts on post-World War II Paraguay.  Very few English-language books on Paraguay have been published since 1995.  Most eonomic and political white papers and analyses on Paraguay are dated–most publish data gathered two or three years prior to publication.  A flurry of scholarly works, books, and even movies on Paraguayan politics and history were published between 1986 and 1996, but the flood receded to a trickle in recent years.  I have been a Paraguay sponge lately, sopping up any tidbits I can learn about what I now believe is one of the most interesting countries in the world.