Mario Vargas Llosa, The feast of the Goat

Mario Vargas Llosa, signing books

Mario Vargas Llosa signing books in 2010 (Courtesty: Daniele Devoti, via Wikipedia, using CC-BY-2.0)

If Nobel Laureate Mario Vargas Llosa‘s The feast of the goat had been a traditional historical novel, chances are it would have started with the assassins concocting their plan and then worked chronologically to its logical conclusion. But, it is not a traditional historical novel, as is reflected in the structure Vargas Llosa has chosen to tell his story.

Before we get to that though, the plot. The central story revolves around the dying (literally) days of the 30-year Trujillo (“the Goat”, “the Benefactor”, “the devil”) regime in the Dominican Republic. This means the main action takes place in 1961. However, overlaying this is the perspective of Urania, the daughter of one of Trujillo’s head honchos. She’d left the country days before the regime ended and cut herself completely off from her father – for thirty-five years, until her sudden return at the novel’s start. The novel is told from these two time perspectives – 1960/61 and 1996 – and from multiple points-of-view*, the main ones being:

  • Urania
  • Trujillo
  • The conspirators/assassins

But this isn’t all there is to this novel’s structure and narrative style. I’m not quite sure how Vargas Llosa gets away with it, but he has written a book that is very accessible (once you get across the intricacies of Latin American names) and yet also rather complex. This complexity is found, primarily, in the structure. The book can, essentially, be divided into two parts. Chapters 1-16 proceed pretty systematically, cycling through, in turn, the stories of Urania, Trujillo (usually with one of his offsiders), and the Conspirators (usually focusing on one of them in particular). By Chapter 16 the two major crises of the book have occurred or been introduced. The last 8 chapters continue to cycle through different points-of-view but not in the same systematic order. In other words, the narrative structure becomes erratic and the rhythm more urgent, as chaos and uncertainty take over.

And yet, there’s more. For example, the novel is told primarily in third person, with the point-of-view changing chapter to chapter. But, every now and then, for just a sentence or two, or maybe a paragraph, the voice lapses into second person. This happens most often with Urania and conveys the sense that there has been some trauma that she hasn’t been able to fully integrate/recover from. We discover the origins of this trauma in Chapter 16, but it is not fully revealed until the last chapter.

… You were still a girl, when being a girl meant being totally innocent about certain things that had to do with desire, instincts, power, and the infinite excesses and bestialities that a combination of those things could mean in a country shaped by Trujillo. She was a bright girl … (Chapter 16)

This little slip into second person in Urania’s story is telling.

Okay, so this is the architecture, the behind-the-scenes technical stuff, but why write it this way? Well, the reasons are intellectual and emotional. Intellectual in that the multiple alternating points-of-view enable us to get a number of “stories” first hand. Through the eyes of the perpetrators and the disaffected, we explore the regime, and how, as happens so often with dictatorships, the early benefits are gradually (but surely) overshadowed by the corruption and violence perpetrated to maintain power, and how this leads to the assassination conspiracy. And emotional in that the constant shifting in perspective, particularly from people we can trust to those we can’t (to the best of our knowledge), and back again, unsettles and discomforts us … just as those who lived through the regime were kept on edge.

It’s impossible, without writing a thesis, to cover all the angles in this book, so I’m just going to look at one more – the characterisation of Trujillo himself. A historical novelist (rather like a biographer) has to choose what to include and what to exclude when describing a person. Vargas Llosa was lucky, really, that Trujillo had some traits that made this choice rather easy, traits that work on both the literal level and the ironic and metaphoric. Fairly early in the novel is this description of Trujillo

…that master manipulator of innocents, fools, and imbeciles, that astute exploiter of men’s vanity, greed and stupidity.

Fairly typical, wouldn’t you say, of a dictator? But, Trujillo was also fastidious about cleanliness and appearance, believing that

Appearance is the mirror of the soul.

If that’s so, then Trujillo’s “soul” is a very superficial thing because his disdain for the rights and feelings of others is palpable. Throughout the novel, Vargas Llosa sets Trujillo’s obsession with personal care (“the man who did not sweat, did not sleep, never had a wrinkle on his uniform, his tuxedo, or his street clothes”) against the coldness of his mind. That his mind is cold is made perfectly clear through his attitude to his offsiders (whom he liked to scare – “it cheered him to imagine the sizzling questions, suppositions, fears, suspicions he put into the head of that asshole who was the Minister of the Armed Forces”) and to women. This regime values machismo above all: it’s brutal to those those less powerful, and has careless disregard for the innocent. Women, of course, bear the brunt:

Again the memory of the girl at Mahogany House crossed his mind. An unpleasant episode. Would it have been better to shoot her on the spot, while she was looking at him with those eyes? Nonsense. He had never fired a gun gratuitously, least of all for things in bed. Only when there was no alternative, when it was absolutely necessary to move this country forward, or to wash away an insult.

Trujillo was nothing if not a master of self-justification.

How it all falls out, what happens after Chapter 16, is both expected and unexpected as those involved do or don’t do what they’d committed to. The end result is a devastating portrayal of how the political becomes the personal! Not a new message, perhaps, but The feast of the Goat is a compelling read that engaged my heart and mind. I recommend it.

Mario Vargas Llosa
(Trans. by Edith Grossman)
The feast of the goat
London: Faber and Faber, 2002
ISBN: 9780571207763

* As in most historical fiction, the novel is peopled with historical characters and fictional ones. Most, in fact, are historical but Urania and her father, though based, I understand, on real people, are fictional.

10 thoughts on “Mario Vargas Llosa, The feast of the Goat

  1. This sounds like a fascinating read, if only for the fact that almost all the Latin American writers I’ve read have tended toward magic realism. As for appearance being a mirror for the soul, I have to hope not! (If such were the case, what would that mean for the blank-faced botox brigade of our current times?!)

    • Good question … I’ll let you answer it. Yes, this is a great read and, interestingly, there’s not even a hint of magical realism. There are, though, some references to Pablo Neruda.

    • Hmmm … that’s funny because I distinctly remember commenting on this when it came through but the gremlins have got it.

      Anyhow, good one Tony – you reckon there are dictators and there are dictators, eh? All I can say to this is he’s yours now! He took out US citizenship to become a media baron in the US!

  2. This sounds really good and structurally quite interesting. I’ve nver read Vargas Llosa but since he won the Nobel and folks around the blog world have been reading and posting on hims, I see that I am going to have to read him sometime and that I’d be foolish not to.

    • It is … and yet a very accessible and involving read at the same time. I’ve only read two of his, this one and Aunt Julia and the scriptwriter (many many years ago). I think they are probably the two picks of his oeuvre, though that’s not to say that others aren’t worth reading!

  3. This is one of those authors I should have read but haven’t. For some reason I haven’t taken to South American books, but am feeling my ignorance when I read your review of this obviously fine book. I can see that you were taxonomically challenged in analysing the structure of this one! As you suggest – it could be the subject of a thesis (and doubtless has been)

    • Thanks Tom. I’ve read a smattering of South American books – particularly Gabriel Garcia Marquez – and have enjoyed them. Evan when they are brutal they have a larger-than-life sense that I find fascinating. If you want to try something short, look at Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Chronicle of a death foretold.

  4. great post. the only book i’ve read by vargas llosa is “the bad girl”; i loved it but, other than a few pages of “feast of the goat,” i haven’t read anything else by him. your descriptions of the narrative structure & time of the novel have me pretty convinced it’s time for me to find a copy of the book and start again.

    • Thanks Ellen. I’ve only read, besides this, Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter – a long time ago – and liked it but it’s quite different to this one. Feast is not a quick read and, because of the narrative structure (and the complexity of the names), you have to give it time to get into it but once you get into its groove it starts to grab your attention. I’ll be watching for your review (one day – no pressure though!!)

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