Special Envoy to the dreaded hell
Mario Vargas Llosa has launched several daring in Celtic's dream, and all has emerged triumphant and unscathed, more noble even than when he entered the dreaded hell. That's where found, sometimes naked, stripped in any case the mask that the soul gets to not see the body, Roger Casement, an idealist to expect that life as a metaphor for evil. There, in that territory which is multiplied by four (Africa, the Amazon, prison, sex), Roger plays the dreaded hell, human evil in its purest form and therefore more muddy.
BY JUAN CRUZ
E n covering the abyss that is life romance of travel and encouraged by the willingness to help others, Casement sees everything but above all see how man uses force, physical force, and immoral domain of wealth, to subjugate others, to grab the guts or the mind to make them beasts turn mirrors the beasts. Casement attend all forms of human degradation, and the novelist remains, frightened by these forms of degradation that sometimes rub so terrible at the same protagonist. The nobility of looking, Mario Vargas Llosa, allows the reader to attend the gradual decline into hell with the same spirit as that used by the narrator on the novelist never nailed any arrow in the eye of the protagonist, or to save or to stigmatize; only at the end, when the rest serves as epilogue after this chilling story and arrested as a war correspondent in terrible and even more inhuman than war, Mario Vargas Llosa dares to reveal his own feelings about one of the most abject maneuvers against Casement.
BY JUAN CRUZ
E n covering the abyss that is life romance of travel and encouraged by the willingness to help others, Casement sees everything but above all see how man uses force, physical force, and immoral domain of wealth, to subjugate others, to grab the guts or the mind to make them beasts turn mirrors the beasts. Casement attend all forms of human degradation, and the novelist remains, frightened by these forms of degradation that sometimes rub so terrible at the same protagonist. The nobility of looking, Mario Vargas Llosa, allows the reader to attend the gradual decline into hell with the same spirit as that used by the narrator on the novelist never nailed any arrow in the eye of the protagonist, or to save or to stigmatize; only at the end, when the rest serves as epilogue after this chilling story and arrested as a war correspondent in terrible and even more inhuman than war, Mario Vargas Llosa dares to reveal his own feelings about one of the most abject maneuvers against Casement.
E l novelist, until then, had been a notary terrified human deviations became Sir Roger's eyes in a series of fatal discoveries about human evil as hell. Was Sir Roger, in his personal life, his sexual inclinations, so abhorrent as to present the British government wanted to break it down? That's where only the novelist abandons his lookout amazed: so far has been telling, with the detail of a coroner who has just peek into the abyss of man and beast, the history of various degradations up to the exaltation of man who wants work for freedom even at the cost of your life or loyalty to their homeland false.
Where the book reaches its fullness, where man faces the broken mirror of life, in episodes of prison, a prison of the soul, where Sir Roger is comfort or questions, the place where the communication seeks a nobility that seems to reside only in the damp prison of the soul. Such episodes are particularly emotional, and the reader moves along as if touching the wound of an autobiography. As the book in any case, and that is a radical merit, is a story linear, which occurred in Africa, the Amazon, Ireland, Germany, in different life-rotting landfills visited Casement in his descent into hell, but this work of Mario Vargas Llosa is, above all, a dark mirror of the human soul, and not read like a novel to which one looks like a spectator and then abandons its interstices hazy as if attending a horrifying story but fantastic. Celtic's dream is over us all: this book touches the human soul passes through and returns at its most real, dark or light, or damn forgiving.
To do this, to make a story like a novel stripped of artifice, the novelist has been at the site of the Special Envoy, it seems a reporter from the shock, it narrates, as the poet José Hierro, no fly in verse, has been deploying its memorial of horrors and has provided a sum that he feels like a stab in the heart emetic. Counterpoint, quiet area, is, curiously, the place where the bleeding man hell, and that place of peace is the prison, and finally death, as the desired output of the blind spots that have been leading his life. The prison as death and also as a place for reflection or exit from the horror in which life surrounds you as muddy coincidence or blood or evil.
E s a chilling book which comes with a pasty face, full of dark ants are spelling that word so feared, hell, terrible, merciless wickedness of man sinking into the mud the increasingly deteriorating prestige of the word noble.
0 comments:
Post a Comment