In Malcolm Lowrys novel U,nder the Volcano, written in 1938, Godfrey
Fermin, a former American Consul, living in the town of Cahnahauca
Mexico, is spending his last day on earth in The Faralito, a sordid
dark tavern next to a deep barranca. The barranca's steep incline is
an tangle of thick jungle, at the bottom a sluggish stream flows
toward the sea.
The consul is an dipsomaniac and on the terminal end of a
monumental mescal drunk His slow tango with mescal is about to be
concluded. The consul is going to be assassinated and thrown into the
deep barranca because, in a drunken stupor, he naively mentioned, to
the bar owner, he was in Madrid; a stronghold of the Spanish
Republicans, Communists, Trotskyites and the International Brigades,
who were the first to fight fascism, during the Spanish Civil War.
A number of Federal soldiers are huddle together, in dusty
uniforms, at the far end of the bar voices dropped to a inaudible
murmur talking about Fremin because the Faralitos owner had told them
about his causal conversation with Fermin, and they are now beginning
to suspect the consul is either a Troskyite or a Communist or a former
member of the International Brigades. Poison words to the militaries
who supported the dictator of Mexico during the 1930s. Occasionally
one of them turns to look at the Consul, sitting at a table drinking
mescal and reading the love letters of his wife
Fermin is the prisoner of mescal and is familiar with delirium
tremens and its world of hallucinations, the late night crys of
animals being slaughtered in the kitchen of his house, and the
hundreds of dead cattle now posed on the slope of a hill opposite The
Faralito. But the consul, despite these apparitions, and the months
of submersion in mescal, still manages to think of love. He is
reading the love letters of a wife he is separated from, not as the
source of a possible revival-which is impossible because his life has
been taken by mescal- but as a love dead of true lovet and the dismal
memories of a lost soul.
Yet, he is still able in his sodden mind to think about the wonder
of love. “What is there in life besides the person who one adores and
the life one can build with that person?“ his wife writes. But he is
no longer a participant in the pageant of love. There is nothing left
of life to build on.
On Jul 31, 3:25 pm, frantheman <[email protected]> wrote:
> I've a couple of weeks holidays coming up ta the end of August and
> would be interested to hear some reading suggestions. But, as one
> shouldn't take without giving, I thought I'd get the ball rolling with
> a brief description of some of the books I've found good in the past
> few months ;-)
>
> Harry Thompson, This Thing of Darkness: I owe this tip to Ian - thanks
> mate! A well researched, very well written historical novel, based
> mainly on the voyage of the Beagle and the lives of its captain,
> Robert FitzRoy and his most famous passenger, Charles Darwin. The
> character of FitzRoy, an interesting historical figure in his own
> right, is particularly well done. Sadly, there will be no more gems
> from this author, as he died tragically young four years ago.
>
> Tom Holland, Persian Fire: Who says ancient history is boring?
> Holland's excellent book describing the war between east and west, a
> war between a superpower representing then civilised values (the
> Persian empire) against barbarian rogue states (Athens and Sparta)
> challenging the world order reads like a thriller. His previous work,
> Rubicon, about the fall of the Roman Republic is equally good. I'm
> loking forward to reading his latest, Millenium, about the early
> European Middle Ages, featuring the crusades.
>
> Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind: This is the best fantasy book
> I've read in a long time (and I read quite a bit of fantasy).
> Extremely well written, it's hard to describe. As the author himself
> says, "If I could sum it up in 50 words, I wouldn't have needed to
> write a whole novel about it." The first of a trilogy, the second part
> of which is due out this summer, it's simply an amazing first novel.
>
> Daniel C. Dennett, Consciousness Explained: For anyone wanting to get
> into contemporary philosophy, and particularly the vexed questions of
> consciousness and epistemology, this is a very good starting point.
> Dennett's position is unashamedly empirical (he identifies himself as
> a Bright and is a pal of Dawkins [though a much more incisive
> thinker]) but, more importantly, he also, unusually for a philosopher,
> writes lucidly, entertainingly and well.
>
> Mary Doria Russell, The Sparrow/Children of God: These two have to be
> read together. Wonderful science fiction, the hero being a Jesuit
> scientist whose first contact with an alien civilisation brings his
> faith into fundamental crisis. The books take a sympathetic position
> regarding rational faith in a personal God, although the author
> describes herself as an agnostic. Many issues discussed on Minds Eye
> come up here, along with complex characters, a compelling story and
> good science fiction.
>
> So, what about you?
>
> Francis
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