A couple of months ago I did a post about the Guardian’s list of what it deemed to be the 100 best novels of all time. One book on that list was Pedro Páramo by Juan Rulfo. I’d never heard of it before, and was delighted to receive a gift of it (and relieved that it was an English translation from the original Spanish). I’ve just finished reading it.
The story, set in Mexico, begins with a character called Juan Preciado, who promises to his mother on her deathbed that he will travel to a place called Comala to find his father, whom he has never met before. The book begins with a conventional first-person narrative by Preciado about his journey, but soon dissolves when he reaches his destination into complex fragments told in different voices. Thereafter the tale resolves itself into a series of conversations and encounters, but the precise sequence of these is difficult to discern. For instance, about halfway through the book we discover that everything that has happened is actually a flashback to much earlier events. We never find out whether the events depicted are memories or hallucinations nor whether the characters are alive or dead. It’s as if Preciado has wandered into two parallel versions of Comala, one populated by the living and one by ghosts. The original narrator himself dies but then carries on the narration as a ghost.
This is a highly original and deeply mysterious novel. Very little in this book is what it seems at first reading. It’s only 123 pages long (in the Edition I have), but it took me quite a while for me to find a path through the labyrinth, and even then I found much of it unfathomable, but I think that is precisely what it is supposed to be.
P.S. The Edition I have has a foreword by Gabriel García Márquez, who won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1982, who cites Rulfo as an inspiration. It’s been a long time since I read his masterpiece One Hundred Years of Solitude but I remember it well enough to see the influence.
In the Dark 