I'm not totally finished with this book yet, but I've got to rip on it. I love Fuentes, who, as part of the magical realist crew, usually keeps his absurdity fresh. I've read most of his books, and this one is the first that's disappointed me. It is way self indulgent and borders of babble.
1) He makes constant allusions to the deeds of Mexican politicians who no one else has ever heard of
2) He can harp on words that sound like other words until Mexico City becomes Mess I Go Shitty
3) The Plot, though there is one, is rarely mentioned and is in no way an important part of the work
4) The importance of the work comes from Fuentes's archetypal characters and dream-like sense of reality as it is seen by Christopher, the unborn narrator
Christopher is conceived by his parents in order to win a contest. The Christopher Columbus contest. Mexico's politicians have decided that a child born on the day that Christopher Columbus set foot in Mexico, who is semi-related by blood to Columbus, will be given an award and become the symbol of hope for doomed Mexico. Christopher narrates the entire story from inside the womb. He talks about his parents, their families, Mexico's Prime Minister, revolutionary, albino truck drivers, S&M whores, etc. While all this is great, the form of the novel is so ridiculous that it seems superfluous, and Fuentes seems to just be jacking off on the page.
I say clean it up and read The Old Gringo or Terra Nostra, or even better, the intoxicatingly short and sweet Aura.
----------Mattie
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