The Years with Laura Diaz by Carlos Fuentes

I feel bad writing this review because I wanted to love this book and didn't. Carlos Fuentes is not only brilliant, he's also very smart. For me, his work is inspiring art with the added benefit that I always come away -despite myself- better educated in history, politics and human-interpersonal relations. About 10 years ago I read Terra Nostra and I was floored by Fuentes' scope and insight - his ability to use academic data and historic incident to create deep emotional impact. He did it again on a more intimate scale in The Crystal Frontier, a collection of short stories about the tempestuous relationship between the United States and Mexico. Here's a bit from The Years with Laura Diaz that gave me some perspective on our current times of global unrest and general destructive silliness:

"In 1938 the European democracies caved in to Hitler at the Munich Conference and the Nazia occupied Austria, then Bohemia; the Spanish Republic was in full retreat, falling back on all fronts; Walt Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs opened, as did Sergei Eisenstein's Alexander Nevsky and Leni Riefenstahl's Olympiad. On Kristallnacht, Jewish synagogues, businesses, homes and schools all over Germany were burned by SS troops; in the United States, Congress established the House of Un-American Activities Committee, in France Antonin Artaud proposed a "Theater of Cruelty", Orson Welles convinced everyne that Martians had invaded New Jersey..."

So why didn't Laura Diaz quite meet expectations? First, let's say that by expectations we mean that the bar is waaaaay high up for this author, and I'm quibbling about why he didn't clear it by his usual six inches. The book has heaps of stuff going for it. Laura's life spans a century which includes several revolutions and much social change, both at home in Mexico and abroad; she marries a hero of the people, has two sons, three lovers, and sees loved ones reflected in grandchildren and then great-grandchildren. Her friendships with artists and exiles enrich her own journey toward personal independence and renown as a photographer. It's a solid story, rich with philosophy.

I guess what bothered me was the lack of magic in the overriding narrative structure. It was weighed down with a spirit of "and then, and then, and then". After reading his acknowledgments, I conclude that Carlos Fuentes is honouring his own ancestors with this book, and was unable to take ruthless artistic license with the material. That's fair enough.

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