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A review by shanviolinlove
Quesadillas by Juan Pablo Villalobos
4.0
Disclaimer: my Spanish is not advanced enough yet to read this novel in its original language, so I read a translation.
I needed a little bit of time to think about, well, what I thought about this novel. It was certainly different. "Humor" and "satire" were flung around almost every review I had seen, and given the high praise for Villalobos' writing in general, I was eager to dive in. Indeed, this novel is satirical; in the beginning of the story, the protagonist's two youngest siblings go missing and all he cares about is the increase in his quesadilla allotment at the dinner table (and what the disappearance of more siblings would mean for his food ration). It's meant to be scathing and inhumane; it isn't meant to be taken seriously. But, given the nature of its satire, it ultimately is meant to be taken seriously. We see the unmistakable, unveiled signposts of injustice against the poorer classes in Mexico, as the narrator's family is unceremoniously uprooted from their home, as the narrator himself is exorbitantly punished for a menial crime by his upper-class white neighbors, as the identity of Mexico is stripped away with the removal and subjugation of Mexicans in favor of richer international developers. These gut-wrenching details are toned down by the book's tongue-in-cheek sarcasm to the point where the stark reality of poverty in Mexico is almost "digestible."
But what to make of the book itself? There was not a single likable or understandable character I could locate, so I'm not sure where the dust settles as far as a "pronouncement" of this book's register--especially given the ultra-weird, surreal ending. Did I, in fact, actually read a plot-driven narrative, or was it all some kind of meta-allegorical criticism? Even the most tangible events in the story had a surreal, exaggerated nature to them, rendering it difficult to determine how literally to take anything. What is the emotional register of these events, as we only see side characters emoting anything? (The protagonist is so emotionally detached himself, I would almost believe he was clinically psychopathic, if not for the fact that this book is labelled "satire," so perhaps that kind of narrative distancing is necessary in this case?) Not nearly as many "your mama" jokes as the book flap promised--but I believe this is more a translation issue--so the details projecting this book as a sidesplitting frolic didn't really deliver. My guess is that the book's publicist, like me, isn't sure how to label this book, either. Not sure that that's inherently a problem, but it does create an issue for making a "pronouncement" of this book.
I will read more books by Villalobos to see if I can gauge something from a broader scope of his work. Quesadillas does not, imo, read like a standalone novel, but a component of a bigger picture. I will have to see...
I needed a little bit of time to think about, well, what I thought about this novel. It was certainly different. "Humor" and "satire" were flung around almost every review I had seen, and given the high praise for Villalobos' writing in general, I was eager to dive in. Indeed, this novel is satirical; in the beginning of the story, the protagonist's two youngest siblings go missing and all he cares about is the increase in his quesadilla allotment at the dinner table (and what the disappearance of more siblings would mean for his food ration). It's meant to be scathing and inhumane; it isn't meant to be taken seriously. But, given the nature of its satire, it ultimately is meant to be taken seriously. We see the unmistakable, unveiled signposts of injustice against the poorer classes in Mexico, as the narrator's family is unceremoniously uprooted from their home, as the narrator himself is exorbitantly punished for a menial crime by his upper-class white neighbors, as the identity of Mexico is stripped away with the removal and subjugation of Mexicans in favor of richer international developers. These gut-wrenching details are toned down by the book's tongue-in-cheek sarcasm to the point where the stark reality of poverty in Mexico is almost "digestible."
But what to make of the book itself? There was not a single likable or understandable character I could locate, so I'm not sure where the dust settles as far as a "pronouncement" of this book's register--especially given the ultra-weird, surreal ending. Did I, in fact, actually read a plot-driven narrative, or was it all some kind of meta-allegorical criticism? Even the most tangible events in the story had a surreal, exaggerated nature to them, rendering it difficult to determine how literally to take anything. What is the emotional register of these events, as we only see side characters emoting anything? (The protagonist is so emotionally detached himself, I would almost believe he was clinically psychopathic, if not for the fact that this book is labelled "satire," so perhaps that kind of narrative distancing is necessary in this case?) Not nearly as many "your mama" jokes as the book flap promised--but I believe this is more a translation issue--so the details projecting this book as a sidesplitting frolic didn't really deliver. My guess is that the book's publicist, like me, isn't sure how to label this book, either. Not sure that that's inherently a problem, but it does create an issue for making a "pronouncement" of this book.
I will read more books by Villalobos to see if I can gauge something from a broader scope of his work. Quesadillas does not, imo, read like a standalone novel, but a component of a bigger picture. I will have to see...