“The Dream of the Celt,” by Mario Vargas Llosa, 2010  
Critics are always yapping about Gabriel Marquez and his
‘magical realism.’  Realism that actually
buries and hides reality, like transmittals from Plato’s cave, writings for the
aesthetic sensors and the political censors. 
We get the tail of the elephant only, not the elephant itself.  Llosa, a Peruvian, has no such
compunctions.  He is by far the best
Latin American fiction writer.  His prose
is clean and almost elegant, he tells a great story, and his stories have a
point.  A political point, which means he
actually cares about the human condition, not just someone’s psychological
condition.
Some of the arrows in Llosa’s quiver: “The War at the End of
the World,” about a real communist / anarchist insurrection in central Brazil;
“The Real Life of Alejandro Mayta,” describes the life of a Trotskyist
terrorist/activist in Peru; “Feast of the Goat,” covers the struggle against
Trujillo in the Dominican Republic; “Death in the Andes,” an analysis of Sendro
Luminoso through the eyes of one of his continuing characters, Litumo; “The
Time of the Hero,” his first novel, about students at the military academy in
Lima, a book which was banned by Peruvian authorities; “Conversation in the Cathedral,”
a serpentine story of intrigue after a right-wing coup in Peru, peopled by
dozens of characters and periods of time. 
“The Dream of the Celt” is his latest novel – a novel that removes
the curtain from economic colonialism in the Congo 
and Brazil  in the late 1800s
and early 20th century, and then links that to the struggle against
the British in Ireland 
Casement is an odd fellow. 
He was thrilled by reading about the colonial adventures of Stanley and
Livingston in Africa .  He got a job with the Belgians and Stanley
himself, a brutal pig, who were ‘developing’ the Congo Europe .  Of course, the Congolese could not hunt or
grow crops while also tending rubber trees, so men disappeared, villages
revolted, the Congolese starved, villages were burned and the Africans
eventually became slaves on their own continent, this time enslaved by
Europeans.  
Casement began to understand all this, and started to write
letters back to England 
It suddenly dawned on him, that, while the brutality the
Belgian King showed to the Africans – who they considered sub-human – was
extreme; it did not differ in essence from the centuries-long British
occupation of Ireland 
Casement also had another secret.  He was a homosexual in a time when being gay
was considered a crime.  He never had a
long-lasting affair – it seems the only one he had that lasted for months was
with a British spy assigned to inform on him. 
Instead, he visited bathhouses, dark bars, parks and swimming holes in
the Congo , and later, Brazil 
Stories of similar brutal treatment were coming out of Brazil Brazil Barbados 
Casement by this time is deeply involved with the Irish
revolutionaries, from the socialist / laborite John Connolly on down, though he
favors the more Catholic, nationalist faction himself.  He believes an armed rebellion at the wrong
time would be a mistake, and counsels caution. 
Casement’s great idea to aid the Irish nationalist cause is to call on
the German government for guns, aid, even troops against the British.  World War I gives Casement the chance to try
out this unpopular theory – unpopular even among nationalists.  During the war, he goes to Germany London 
The rising happens without the added guns.  Hundreds are killed, hundreds arrested, many
disappear or escape, and many do not mobilize. 
The book ends as a meditation on the wisdom of the Easter Rising,
eventually coming down on the side of martyrdom.  Casement himself meets the gibbet a bit later
– his own martyrdom, but hung as a double-traitor and a pervert.  
Nothing ‘magical’ about this story.  Only true.
And I bought it at Cheapo Books!
Red Frog / July 25, 2012

 

