There are three books to be found within this book, three major storylines to follow. One is mostly well done, one is middling, but has issues, one is rather ridiculous, occasionally mildly offensive, and out of place. The first, which I found mostly well done, is Perez-Reverte's homage to the high adventure stories of the 19th century, specificially his modern update of The Count of Monte Cristo. The Count is remade into a Mexican woman of the 21st century, who is tied to the Mexican drug cartels through her drug running pilot boyfriend. She is set on the run for a crime she did not commit, and runs off to Spain, and we watch the relative naif follow the torturous path of Dantes, a path that is perhaps even more painful than his. It is a clever idea to cast the Count as a woman- it adds to the tale many obstacles and possibilities of obstacles that Edmund Dantes never had to face, and it complicates the progression of our main character to the triumphant protaganist that we all know is coming from the layout of the plot. I found the adventure story aspect of the novel all excellently done- there are several high speed boat chases that have the pages turning at a velocity to match the engines of the boats, there are unexpected shoot outs, there are moments with only one way out, gambles that hold the fate the characters in the palm of their hand to heart pounding effect. Perez-Reverte has always been able to swashbuckle his way into my affections, and this piece was no exception. However. And this is a rather annoying however- I do wish that he hadn't felt the need to constantly shove in our faces the fact that this was a version of The Count of Monte Cristo. He had characters refer to each other as their counterparts in the book. Really? You couldn't trust us to figure that one out, Arturo? Come on, man. I promise you, we're smart enough for that. The book becomes a major motif, and a jumping off point for the characters to make fun of each other for how much they are into it and how delusional that is. It was just a little too self-involved for me. It reads more like fan-fiction sometimes. It's lovely to see how giddy he is about Dumas' tale, and its life changing powers, but I wish he would just let us see it for ourselves rather than constantly insisting upon the truth of it and insisting that his characters enact his own fascination with it. It feels artificial, and sometimes a bit insulting. We get it. I promise.The second story contained within the book (and I should probably say that there are spoilers from here on out) is the story of the transformation of a woman. Teresa begins the book a girl totally dependent upon the whims of others- especially her "narco," boyfriend, Guero. She sits at home and waits for him, takes care of him, puts him first in every way. She doesn't know much about his business, and she doesn't ask. When she is forced to go on the run after Guero is killed by his bosses for committing several indiscretions, she has to slowly learn how to become independent. Perez-Reverte is truly fascinated by the thought of a truly independent woman, you can tell. I've said time and again that he has a dark lady obsession- this book is entirely about that, in fact (though at least we get to see the world from her perspective, and see why she is mysterious), but I think this is really what the obsession is. He worships the very idea of it, though he doesn't seem to quite believe that it can be true, or that women can completely seperate from what he clearly believes are their natural womanly urges, which turned out to be a problem. While she was learning to rely on herself, use her natural gifts (she's gifted with a head for numbers, for instance) and her intelligence and rely on and trust no one, Perez-Reverte feels the need to frame it in terms of gender. By the end of the novel, she has assumed the role of her narco boyfriend in her relationship with everyone she knows, and coldly addresses her business partner (who is in love with her) as a "nagging wife," who believes "her husband works too much and neglects her." He also has problems writing believably inside the head of a woman, sometimes laughably so. He frequently has Teresa feel things, "in her womb," when he wants to emphasize that it is a real feeling. No, for reals. 'Cause apparently that's what all we women are, one big vibrating womb. However, that all said, I did like the attempt at rendering a woman who truly does not need anyone, and even when betrayed by people she trusts, does not descend into a weeping mess, but handles the situation. She gets herself out of the last, tense corners of the novel without one single man left to help her in any way. I really, really appreciated that. So, if the development was uneven and somewhat unbelievable, I at least was with him on his goal, and the last 100 pages of her development.The third thing going on here, that was absolutely ridiculous, is Perez-Reverte's various personal opinions and feelings being put on display. I found it rather embarrassing, pedantic, and offensive, by turns. First of all, let's just note that there's a lot of weird attitudes towards ethnicity in this book. Yes, part of it is that he's writing about a world where people aren't exactly PC, but some of it comes from the omniscient narrator point of view (part of the story is told by a journalist trying to write a book about Teresa, part is told from her point of view). There's a really weird, somewhat twisted relationship with Mexico in the book. Perez-Reverte seems to be arguing for the fact that Spaniards shouldn't find their culture "superior" to Mexico in any way because Spain has just as many problems (which I didn't even know was a comparison that happened but okay). And yet, at the same time, he seems to be weirdly fetishizing, in a conflicted 19th century colonialist way, the Mexican ethnicity. At many points during the book characters tell Teresa that she looks best with her hair pulled back tightly and parted down the middle, "in the style of a Mexican peasant." Everyone who sees her is five times more attracted to her when she presents herself in as "Mayan" or "Indian" a way as possible (those are the descriptors used). And yet, she ends up being dressed up makeover style in a modern, more discreet European way. Everyone, including Teresa, looks down on the "garish" way that Mexican drug cartel people dress and live... and yet. The other Mexican character who is held up as an example refuses to let go of his "garish" ways, and listens to his "corridos" (songs about drug cartels) loudly and often. They are quoted frequently throughout the novel, seemingly as examples of poetry. It's this weird mixture of idealization and looking down his nose that I can't quite figure out. It just popped up uncomfortably often and I didn't quite get why that was there.Anyway, this has likely gone on for long enough, but the point is- its a lovely adventure novel, and a good "coming of age," tale in its way, but not without a good deal of complication. This is my least favorite of his books, though it is still not bad or anything. Just not representative of what he is capable of. Perez-Reverte tends to do better with historical settings, or characters who look back towards the past. This looks back... but still in a modern setting. And his way of looking at the world, well, it's just sometimes a little jarringly old fashioned for the modern world.
I'm on holiday - hurrah! This means it is time to turn my attention to the (very important) task of learning Spanish. I made two "New Year's Resolutions". One was to learn some Spanish before the year was out, the other was to keep a running list of the books I have read on this here blog. So, time to work on one of my resolutions.Instead of learning Spanish I have been reading! The Queen of the South by Arturo Perez-Reverte is the latest book that I have finished. The best way to describe it is "a page turner". On the opening page the heroine, Teresa Mendoza, receives a call on a phone, a phone that she has been told that: "If it rings start running. And don't stop running. Ever." The book covers the next twelve years of her life as she flees Mexico, ends up in Africa, spends time in jail, moves to Spain and then finally returns home.It is really difficult to explain how much I liked this book. It's strange, I am sat here at the computer, reading as I type and I realise that I am being slightly "flat" in my description - which isn't fair to the book because it is a fast-paced, thrilling ride. Teresa starts the book as a girlfriend of a drug runner and ends up building a huge drug-running empire. The book is written in a very clever way, the author acts as an investigative journalist, writing the "biography" of "The Queen of the South" (as Mendoza becomes know). However, the book is written in such a way that at the end I googled Teresa Mendoza because I really, really thought she was a real person. The book includes many situations, many people that have happened or existed. And by the end of the book I had become so involved with the main character that I wanted her to be real. I wanted her to find the peace that she deserved. And yes, I realise that wanting a major drug runner to escape and live in peace is not the way I normally feel but the author makes you become invested in the characters. Hell, by the end of the book I had fallen in love with most of the drug runners and dealers and actually hated the authorities and their "witch hunts".The other wonderful thing about this book was it gave me an insight into how Mexicans think and behave. Obviously I live with one (a Mexican that is) and have a small handle on her behaviour patterns but it was fascinating to discover that instead of Maria being a totally unique individual, she is also a product of her country. There was a lot of familiarity, for me, in the book. Place names, Spanish/Mexican expressions, a general understanding of "that's the way they think" and a total recognition of "that's the way they dress and wear their hair".I loved this book. Because of the world I now occupy, drugs (running and dealing) are part of my life background - not because I am involved but because I come across it most every day, it exists in my life - and the history of drug cartels is something that I have become interested in. The fact that my nickname at Maria's office is that of a famous drug dealer might have something to do with my fascination. The fact that three times a week I cross the border knowing that as I do, there is a good chance that right next to me is someone smuggling drugs interests me.This review probably doesn't do the book justice. I really enjoyed it, would recommend it.
Do You like book The Queen Of The South (2015)?
There is a decent, if somewhat conventional, rags to riches crime story here, layered under some gratuitous literary posturing. The focal character, Teresa Mendoza, keeps herself emotionally distant from everyone, including the reader, which almost surely is intentional (as the story is being told by a reporter, who pops in every now and then for some first person narrative while on the hunt for details) but handled poorly. The result is a watched pot that never boils, and ultimately cools completely. Teresa does let her guard down a few times, most notably while in prison with Patty, who will become her partner. The Patty moments were really the most engaging part of the novel for me, and as her role decayed, my interest decayed as well. It doesn't help that all the drama culminates in the standard gunfight that ended like 90% of the action films in the 1980's. Maybe this too is intentional. Throughout the book, many tales of criminals' past are recounted in song while our heroine sips her tequila. The implication that the very tale we are reading is a type of tall tale meant for one of these bar songs is far from hidden, yet while this may explain the reason for her elusive and fantastical rise from illiterate girlfriend to 'queen', it doesn't make it any more interesting. On an alternate topic, I must reveal that I did not read this in its original language, but in English. Please, someone correct me if I am wrong, but my assumption is that the translation is terrible, and bears a lot of the burden of my negative experience here. Por Ejemplo - - sorry; for example: large swathes of dialogue - both external and internal - are in spanish, the majority of it being profanity. The effect of this is the same as a bad movie where the german soldiers all speak english with bad german accents except when they yell 'schnell' at someone. Here's a line: "The hijo de la chingada had a mother." Okay, so here's my question... the translator had to choose to leave the subject of this sentence in Spanish, right? I don't have a copy of the Spanish text, but I find it hard to believe that all the Spanish text in this English version is somehow indicated as needing to remain in Spanish for a translation. Regardless, the result is silly. All criticism aside, it kept my interest for the most part. There are a few good introspective moments, some great passages, and like I said in the beginning, a decent story. A good thorough edit and a translator that just translated , could have made all the difference in the world.
—Aaron Bellamy
MUJER DE ARMAS TOMAROtra buena novela de Pérez-Reverte. Me ha gustado sobre todo los inicios de Teresa en el mundo del narcotráfico, más que las últimas partes donde se describe su “ascenso” meteórico. No sólo es el progreso de una mujer en la delincuencia, también es un progreso en el plano personal, de identidad y de sentimientos; un aprendizaje y enriquecimiento cultural; y un conocimiento de la sociedad y los distintos mecanismos que la componen, donde todos pueden ser corrompidos. El autor emplea un lenguaje rico en expresiones y localismos mejicanos, en especial al principio de la novela, al igual que poner música con los narcocorridos en toda la narración. Tiene un especial cuidado en detallar todas las operaciones y tejemanejes, donde estas explicaciones minuciosas tienen mucho de trabajo de documentación. Esto a veces es excesivo, y ralentiza bastante el ritmo de la narración. Esta parte de “no ficción” debe ser por la faceta periodística de Pérez-Reverte, no en vano el narrador es periodista y se puede identificar perfectamente con el propio autor.En definitiva, una buena novela entretenida, con acción y muy bien documentada, que a veces peca en exceso de alargarse en comentar los detalles.Mi nota: 6
—Fausto
La Reina del Sur narra la historia de Teresa Mendoza, una mujer mexicana de Culiacán que, tras saber que su hombre, el Güero Dávila, ha sido asesinado, se ve abocada a huir de México y empezar una nueva vida en España.A lo largo de la novela el personaje evoluciona de manera continua y Teresa acabará entrando de lleno en el mundo del tráfico de drogas. Un mundo éste totalmente dominado por hombres, pero en el que consigue hacerse un hueco y crear un auténtico imperio. La novela es excelente no solo por lo amena que resulta, sino por varios aspectos que le dan un toque único y que obligan al lector a estar alerta en todo momento. Por un lado, las continuas alusiones al pasado y las vueltas al presente ayudan a mostrar la evolución del personaje a lo largo de los años. Por otro lado, Arturo Pérez-Reverte hace uso de diferentes narradores, lo cual le permite presentar diversas visiones sobre el mismo asunto. Por último, y en mi opinión esto es lo más importante, Pérez-Reverte demuestra su dominio del lenguaje con una mezcla única de voces y giros españoles y mexicanos. Las transiciones son continuas y muy dinámicas, y permiten al lector disfrutar como nunca de la riqueza de nuestra lengua. Los que conocemos México y lo visitamos a menudo somos capaces de apreciar que las expresiones utilizadas por Teresa Mendoza han sido escogidas con esmero, al igual que las utilizadas por los personajes españoles que aparecen en la novela. La mezcla de ambos estilos le otorga a la obra un carácter difícil de obtener de otra manera. Pérez-Reverte muestra, una vez más, su magnífica habilidad para crear una gran historia y narrarla de tal manera que es difícil no disfrutarla de principio a fin. Muy, muy recomendable. Disfrútenla.
—Pablo Astorga
