Free Nazi Literature in the Americas (New Directions Paperbook) by Roberto Bolaño

praised its achievements, Barreda hit
her.
    The initial relapse into conjugal violence was immediately followed by
a rash of similar incidents, occurring almost daily. But Irma was writing and
that was what saved her. In spite of beatings, insults and humiliations of all
sorts, she persisted in her work, holed up in a room of her house in Coyoacán,
while Barreda succumbed to alcohol and the Mexican Communist Party’s endless
internal debates. In 1948, Irma finished
Juan Diego
, a strange and
subtle play in which the Indian who saw the Virgin of Guadalupe and his guardian
angel make their way through Purgatory, on what seems to be an eternal journey,
since Purgatory itself, the author seems to be suggesting, is eternal. After the
premiere Salvador Novo came backstage to congratulate Irma. He kissed her hand
and they exchanged elaborate compliments. Meanwhile Barreda, who was talking or
pretending to talk with some friends, watched her every move. He seemed
increasingly nervous. Irma was taking on gigantic proportions in his eyes. He
began to stutter and sweat profusely. In the end he completely lost control of
the situation: shoving his way across the room, he insulted Novo and slapped
Irma repeatedly, to the astonishment of the onlookers, who might have been
quicker to separate husband and wife.
    Three days later, Barreda was arrested, along with half of the
Communist Party’s Central Committee. Once again, Irma was free.
    But she did not abandon Barreda. She visited him, took him books on
architecture and detective novels, made sure that he was eating properly, had
endless discussions with his lawyer, and looked after the running of his
business. In Lecumberri, where he spent six months, Barreda quarreled with the
other Communist prisoners, who found out for themselves just how hard it could
be to share a confined space for a long time with a man of his temperament. He
narrowly escaped summary justice at the hands of his comrades. On his release
from prison, he quit the Party, publicly abjured his former activism, and left
for New York with Irma. Everything seemed to bode well: they would begin a new
life, once again. Irma was confident that, away from Mexico, their marriage
would recover its former happiness and harmony. It was not to be: Barreda was
embittered and he took it out on Irma. Life in New York, where they had known
such joy, became hellish, and one morning Irma decided to leave it all behind.
She took the first bus she could find, and three days later she was back in
Mexico.
    They would not see each other again until 1952. In the meantime, Irma
had two new plays staged,
Carlotta, Empress of Mexico
and
The
Miracle of Peralvillo
, both of which dealt with religious themes. She
also published her first novel,
Vulture Hill
, a recreation of the last
days in the life of her only brother. The book divided the critics in Mexico.
According to some, Irma’s message was that the only way to save the country from
impending disaster was simply to turn the clock back to 1899. For others,
Vulture Hill
was an apocalyptic novel prefiguring the disasters
awaiting the nation, which no one could forestall or counteract. The Vulture
Hill of the title, where her brother, Father Joaquín María (whose reflections
and memories occupy the greater part of the text), was executed, represents the
future geography of Mexico: barren, desolate, a perfect scene for further
crimes. The firing squad’s commanding officer, Captain Álvarez, represents the
PRI, the governing party steering the nation towards disaster. The soldiers of
the firing squad are the misguided, dechristianized Mexican people,
imperturbably attending their own funeral. A journalist from a Mexico City
newspaper represents the country’s intellectuals: hollow, faithless individuals,
interested only in money. The old priest, disguised as a farmer, watching the
execution from a distance, exemplifies the attitude of Mother Church, exhausted
and terrified by the violence of