While I was travelling in the USA last month, I wanted to read at least one book relating to the regions we were visiting. I started by looking for a novel set in/about the northwest, but then Yuri Herrera’s Signs preceding the end of the world, set in the southwest, popped out at me, and I knew I had my book.
When you live in the southwest, as we did in the 1990s, you can’t help but be aware of the issue of migration, “illegal” or otherwise, across the border from Mexico. I’d seen the film El Norte (about two Guatemalan youths fleeing to the US via Mexico) and read T. Coraghessan Boyle’s The tortilla curtain, but I hadn’t read a Mexican author on the subject – until now.
Signs preceding the end of the world tells the story of Makina, who is sent to “the other side” by her mother to carry a message to her brother who’d gone and not returned. To obtain the help she needs to make the crossing, she also agrees to take a message from Mexican gangster, Mr Aitch. This synopsis would suggest to most readers an adventure story – a thriller perhaps – or at least some sort of plot-driven drama, but that’s not what this is at all. Yes, it follows a traditional linear journey narrative, but the tone is more mythical, which means that it works on two levels, the literal Mexican-American border story and something more universal about crossings and transitions.
Herrera achieves this by keeping details to a minimum. Places aren’t named, but just described. Chapter titles like “The place where the hills meet” and “The place where people’s hearts are eaten” exemplify this beautifully. Most people aren’t named, either, and, where they are, the names are minimal (such as Chucho who helps her cross the border) or enigmatic (such as the alphabetical three, Mr Double-U, Mr Aitch and Mr Q!) It is in this shadowy context that Makina makes her journey.
He also achieves it by starting the novel with a surprising scene that isn’t critical to the literal plot, but which provides a thematic or symbolic link to the ending. We meet Makina walking in the street, when, suddenly, a sinkhole opens up and a man is swallowed up. Makina manages to pull herself back and survive, but we learn in the opening paragraph the tenuousness of life and, perhaps, that Makina is either lucky or has good survival instincts. Meanwhile, the sinkhole itself, while a literal geographic phenomenon, also conjures up the underworld, the murky sub-legal world that Makina must traverse to make it to, and survive in, “the other side”.
Herrera evokes the dangers of the journey vividly, but having already set up Makina as a resourceful young woman, he convinces us of her ability to survive the crossing – and she does, despite being accosted by a young thug, nearly drowning in the river, being shot at near a mountain pass. She locates her brother too, even though the information she has regarding his whereabouts is minimal.
What really makes this book, though, besides the strength and heart of Makina, is Herrera’s language (albeit in translation). It’s written in the sort of spare language I like. Here’s Makina’s experience of the city:
The city was an edgy arrangement of cement particles and yellow paint. Signs prohibiting things thronged the streets, leading citizens to see themselves as ever protected, safe, friendly, innocent, proud, and intermittently bewildered, blithe, and buoyant; salt of the only earth worth knowing. They flourished in supermarkets, cornucopias where you could have more than everyone or something different or a new brand or a loaf of bread a little bigger than everyone else’s. Makina just dented cans and sniffed bottles and thought it best to verse …
Yes, “verse”. Dillman in her translator’s note discusses the challenges of translating the book, which she says is about “bridging cultures and languages”. One way Herrera conveys this theme is to use neologisms, signifying the idea of a new language for the potentially new people forged out of migration. One of his neologisms is “jachar” which he uses to mean “to leave”. Dillman needed to create/choose an English word that would play the same role, and came up with “to verse”, because it refers to poetry and is also part of “several verbs involving motion and communication (traverse, reverse, converse) as well as the ‘end’ of uni-verse”.
As I implied earlier, this is a road novel, a journey to another place as well as to the self. Here’s Makina looking for her brother:
It had taken everything she had just to pronounce the eight tundras. To cleave her way through the cold on her own, sustained by nothing but an ember inside; to go from one street to another without seeing a difference; to encounter barricades that held people back for the benefit of cars. Or to encounter people who spoke none of the tongues she knew: whole barrios of clans from other frontiers, who questioned her with words that seemed traced in the air. The weariness she felt at the monuments of another history. The disdain. The suspicious looks. And again, the cold, getting colder, burrowing into her with insolence.
And when she arrived and saw what she’d come to find it was sheer emptiness.
Here and elsewhere, Mexican-born Herrera, who now lives in the USA, is clear about the materialistic, insular reality of “the other side”.
As I read this book, I was reminded of other journeys and crossings, specifically crossing the Styx (it’s no accident I’m sure that the first chapter is titled, simply, “The earth”), Dante’s journey to hell, and even Alice’s fall down the rabbit-hole. Herrera, though, while invoking these journeys in Signs preceding the end of the world, has created his own, one that addresses the politics of borders and boundaries (and dare I say “walls) between countries, while exposing the personal, psychological and spiritual implications of traversing these borders. Its ending is unsettling – but perfect for all that.
Signs preceding the end of the world
(Trans. by Lisa Dillman)
London: And Other Stories, 2015 (Orig. lang. ed. 2009)
24 thoughts on “Yuri Herrera, Signs preceding the end of the world (#BookReview)”
I read this book just after it came out. I’ll never forget what and exhilarating experience it was. There have been two more of his books released which I hear are good but not quite up to this one. Seems to me this is one of those perfect little gems, perhaps even more relevant now than it was in 2015.
That’s great to hear, Joe… I mean that more of his books have been released. I thought exactly as you’ve said, that it’s even more relevant now. I’ll come over and read your review.
A book to follow up on – thanks WG: I was recently house-sitting in the New England region of NSW and visited Jeogla (Judith Wright Wallamumbi/Wollomombi territory) where poet, novelist and inveterate SMH Letters writer Peter SKRZYNECKI (Appointment Northwest his 2014 memoir of that time) began his teaching career in 1967. Not far beyond Jeogla in this very high terrain country – on the road down towards Kempsey – lies the River Styx! Peter in his book details all kinds of “border” crossings he was making in his life with this appointment and the marvellous people and children who guided him into rural life!
Done! Now in my e-Reader (Kindle app in my iPad Mini)!
Oh well done Jim. I have a Kindle but also the Kindle app on my iPad.
But, I do love that you have found another River Styx. I didn’t know that we had one on our doorstep!
Sounds a very interesting read. Crossing borders is a really diverse theme.
It’s a good read, Pam, and one you’d understand probably more than some!
I think it’s wonderful not just how good the best of foreign literature is, but how different it is in its rhythms and wordplay to Eng.Lit
Yes, well said Bill.
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I recently read The Transmigration of Bodies and Signs Preceeding the End of the World. The writings still sits with me. They are short stories but have a powerful impact. They are blunt, violent, cruel and yet lyrical. Herrera is an amazing writer.
Thanks Meg. You are right about the writing. It’s powerful – I particularly love the fine line between the particular and the more general that he’s able to tread.
Like Joe, I read this when it first came out and found it an exhilarating read. I loved that the protagonist was a strong kick-ass woman, who took no prisoners!
Oh yes, I agree kimbofo. From the opening pages he shows her gutsiness, as well as her resourcefulness, doesn’t he.
I have this on my watch list: that means I’m thinking about it.
I’d think a bit harder then a Guy! It’s worth the trouble … but I know I can talk given all I don’t get to!
Your opinion means a lot as we cross over on tastes a lot.
Thanks Guy. I feel the same, even if I rarely get the opportunity to follow up on books you review that intrigue me. (I still have you know what on my TBR.)
This has been sitting on my shelf for rather a long time…. Id even forgotten I had it. Now I see what I’ve been missing
Haha Karen, I know all about books on shelves for a long time. Hope you get to this one.
*Sigh* Another one for the (groaning) TBR…
That’s the problem with reading blogs isn’t it, Angela. But a good problem!
Very nice. I loved this – I think it was my book of the year even – and like you found some definite mythic resonances. The neologisms work well don’t they?
Have you read The Tortilla Curtain? I’ve heard of it but I haven’t read it myself.
Yes I have Max, when I was living in Southern California so it resonated strongly. It’s not as impressive as this in terms of writung but us a strong focus story. I’ll come check your review of Herrera.