For quite some time, I was rather contrite about Llosa. Contrite about the magnitude and value of his body of work, that is. Probably, because I was always comparing him to Gabriel García Márquez, who, in my opinion, is, without a doubt, one of the greatest writers of all time. Llosa, in comparison, seemed rather… frivolous. Rather cinematic, in a “pick me for a screenplay” kind of way. Then, after reading The Dream of the Celt and Notes on the Death of Culture, I accepted his piquant style and a certain type of storytelling inclination. So, yes, Llosa is a great writer, for sure, and The Feast of the Goat is one of his greatest novels.
The novel’s events revolve around the assassination of Trujillo, the dictator of the Dominican Republic from 1930 to 1961. There are 4 main narrator voices in the book:
- Urania Cabral, the daughter of a prominent statesman, Augustin Cabral, a close associate of Trujillo.
- The group of conspirators who will assassinate Trujillo.
- Various top-level statesmen in Trujillo’s orbit.
- Trujillo himself.
These 4 voices combined paint a complete picture of the sociology of a dictatorship. The book is a captivating read, and this may obscure the real issue at hand for a less experienced reader. But, in essence, the book is about the nature of the beast that is absolute power, and what it does to anyone it touches.
The line of Urania is the voice of a personal tragedy, a life ruined by Trujillo. What that tragedy was is not difficult to extrapolate from the mere fact that she is a woman. Although her line is brilliantly narrated, and the author was both extremely careful not to fall into baseness and, at the same time, more than factual and straightforward in telling it, this line does not represent the main attraction of the novel. At least, not for me.
Another voice that is simple enough to grasp and follow is the voice of the conspirators. Each one of them had either a personal or an ideological grievance against Trujillo. Their stories combine into a collage of monstrosities that a dictator can inflict on those close to him or those opposing him.
The voice of Trujillo is a brilliant peek into the psyche of a dictator. And, oh, how commonplace he is!! Base and profoundly vulgar, but striving to look cultured. Justifying his every action by “serving the country”, while actually pursuing his interests or whims. Cunning and street-smart. Despising intellectuals. And, above all, preoccupied with sniffing out betrayal and plots every second of every day, torturing and killing conspirators, real and imaginary, left and right.
For me, the most interesting voice, or rather a choir, is the voice of the Dominican statesmen. This is not a uniform choir. Here are just several voices to heed, a spoiler :).
- Augustin Cabral, the father of Urania. His is the story of a “devoted courtier”, who excuses any monstrosity of the Dear Leader, because he is “beneficial for the Country and the People” TM. But, in its essence, it seems to be the story of a sick devotion, which absolute power so often inspires in its minions. Cabral is an example of how an intellectual can be profoundly, blatantly STUPID. Finding himself out of favor with his master, he completely disintegrates as a human being and goes as far as offering his 14-year-old daughter to a 70-year-old man as a plaything.
On a tangent – the stupidity of so-called public intellectuals is a fascinating thing to explore! Usually stems from devotion to their Dear Leader or their Bubble, in a word, from being as obtuse and narrow-minded as your garden variety non-public everyday moron. - Johnny Abbes García. A straightforward psychopath, head of Trujillo’s Military Intelligence Service (SIM) – the kill-anyone-who-seems-unreliable police. Interesting mainly as a confirmation that every dictator would always find his own Johnny to lead a SIM-like structure. And this structure will invariably emerge and gain enormous power – because this is the backbone and survival mechanism of a dictatorship. This structure will, at some point, almost invariably be the reason or the catalyst of dissent in either the army, the civil bureaucracy or both. In the Dominican Republic, it was both.
- General Pupo Román. The Army Chief of Staff, who was supposed to lead the military coup following the assassination, but faltered. This is a fascinating line indeed! A man of great personal courage, who fell into a complete paralysis of will-power the minute he heard of the assassination. His actions in the days between the assassination and being discovered are the actions of a man in a state of sleepwalking. Possibly, the personal courage of a physical, soldierly kind, is something completely useless in the moments when quick thinking and decision making are necessary in the rapid waters of a complot. Courage of the body is not the courage of the soul.
- Joaquín Balaguer, the “puppet president” of the Dominican Republic. Probably the most fascinating character, because he is the epitome of “those who will inherit the earth”. Meek, seemingly unremarkable, a puppet. He is the one who manages to deceive El Jefe for years, hiding his internal dissent. This man manages to retain power after Trujillo’s assassination, outmaneuvering his revenge-thirsty sons and brothers, the army, and most importantly, Johnny Abbes García. He then relinquished power during the democratic elections in 1966.
Obviously, the assassination aftermath led to several years of social unrest, political murders, fleeing of the Trujillo family with everything they had stolen and managed to sneak out. No dictatorship ever goes quietly…or willingly.
There’s an ever-present theme in the novel, which I would like to touch on: Trujilo as a benefactor of the country.
- Didn’t he improve the economy? He did – authoritarian rule often improves the economy in its early years, often because it has forced labour at its disposal.
- Didn’t he pay off the national debt? He did. Favorite pet peeve of people with the strong-man nostalgia. Forgetting that paying off the national debt usually comes by means of making one’s own population destitute.
- Didn’t he strengthen the borders? He did – by way of mass murder.
- Etc.
Objectively, there’s no denying that Trujillo DID improve the state of the Dominican Republic. Short term. This is the keyword here. For everyone who pines after the time of a dictator, this is a warning. Look into the history books, see the pattern. Dictators do improve the life of a country in the short term, because they can mobilize its population, usually by force. Then the dictatorship starts to “cocoon.” This is the phase of consolidation of power. The dictator becomes preoccupied strictly with his (and his family’s) wealth and safety. This is the time of reaction: security services blossom and take over everyday life. The people and the country are no longer important; only the power is. This is the time of violence, suffering, and economic degradation. Being faithful to the Regime will not save anyone. Both the opposition and those close by will be tortured and killed on a whimsical suspicion, guilty or not. And then comes an inevitable dissent of the elites, which ultimately displaces the dictator. Or he just dies, and then the dissent has a chance to blossom. Interestingly, this cycle usually takes 30 years, give or take. The aftermath can ruin the lives of generations to come, though…
In conclusion, and if you will enjoy The Feast of the Goat as much as I did, I would like to recommend two more books on the same subject:
- The Autumn of the Patriarch, by Gabriel García Márquez. Fiction.
- Stalin: New Biography of a Dictator, by Oleg Khlevniuk. Non-fiction.