Sometimes a text moves us and we cannot help but appeal to certain “common places” to express what we can´t manage to say, what remains silent, what lies beyond any possible explanation.
Landscape of Clay , by Cuban writer Alejandro Aguilar, evokes such a feeling. It makes a strong case for the notion that the only literature worth writing must derive from life, be a distillation of it, of the few or many years we are given to inhabit this earth.
Clay as a metaphor for the malleable substance. The reader as pained witness to the development of children shaped in a military environment. Still small children whose future has already been predetermined.
The book is composed of brief fragments. Fluid and brutal glimpses into a reality that gradually forms into a landscape. There are no persons, no names or revealing details, no psychological structures. Here there are only “elements” each with an assigned number.
Each number is a whole world in itself, the personification of the human condition in everyone of these children growing violently into manhood.
Therein lies the bittersweet paradox of this book: in its portrayal of a military upbringing devoid of any grand aspirations, utterly lacking in rationality and in meaning.
The passage “Officers” reads “ The director, a captain who gives the impression of an easygoing sort of guy. He also has an intelligence face, which is the perfect cover for his rigid mind" ….” There are two main forces shaping the development of a human being. On the one hand the agreed upon values; on the other, a reason stronger than mere desire that guides us into the future. It is the discourse of the great epics, the utopian narrative of risk and endless trials.
Or, to say it in a more radical fashion: the making of desirable stories that always circle back to the point of departure, the human condition.
In the fragment entitled “Elements” there are some clues: “ The elements . The boys that will be made men so they can defend la Patria. Their parent´s pride. A few more years and they´ll be officers in the various services; men of courage and chestfuls of medals. They bear the entired weight of this pyramid, and the full brunt of its harsh rigors. Some come to resemble the machinery that depersonalizes them. Most simplym bear up, waiting for the moment they can have their revenge..." ….”
The narrative voice offers hints and suggestions. Aguilar makes the reader confront the violent dichotomy between hopes and reality.
Because ultimately what we call reality is but a heavy burden, its uncertainty made somewhat bearable only by the narratives. It seems we need that reality in precise doses in order to live, in order to grant each thing its appropriate worth, in order to keep chaos at bay at the end.
And this “reality” of Cuban youths trained in military schools—that could be anywhere in the world—serves to remind us that we have evolved from our assigned place in the world through a frail, tense, and silent experience of growth.
And the problem is not that efforts to build a better life are misguided, it is also not that we are the victims of nihilism and paralysis. It is simply that every action that challenges those values brings us face to face with the density of daily life, with the harsh and at once beautiful endeavor of living.
Because every attempt is subject to chance, to the utterly frail and fleeting quality of life.
This is poignantly illustrated in “Element 851” It these four years, all the humor generated by humankind is worn away. But his wit disappears neither out on the parade ground, nor in the canefield, nor even in the periodic fights when he takes more than he hands out. A rip in his uniform gets him a demerit and a warning to sew it up on the spot. Here comes element 851 with a sock swen to his shoulder, like the epaulet of some distinguished geralisimo. He managed to avoid punishment and bad grades by making people laugh. Years later, his laughter is cut off in a helicopter downed by enemy fire in a distant war. "
Alejandro Aguilar weaves a taught fabric, ultimately laying bare the inevitable conclusion that everything we live for, and even our own survival, may come to an abrupt end in a far away land, in a war that is not ours.
Landscape of Clay is a patchwork quilt, each piece able to stand on its own, comprising a world in itself. The pieces can be read separately as short stories, as micro texts, or even as poems. What binds them is precisely the clay, the raw material, what is being molded, what shows resistance, what might become. The narrative points to a higher good, a possible collective force capable of compensating for individual sacrifices and, even if it is not enough for all, a promised land for those chosen few that will reach it.
These children suffering the rigors of military education are “cogs in the machine”, they embody the possibility for keeping alive the passion to improve things. They are the custodians of a truth that obtains anywhere on earth, even in the madness of a world that embraces us yet spares us no demands, that elevates us but forgives not any weakness.
“On Sundays” eloquently illustrates this. " Relatives, friends and girlfriends arrive.The large naves of the barracks empty, and around the pines trees at the entrance, groups sprawl int hapiness with all the abandone of a picnic. This is the moment of sweet lies and vain pride. The I-love- you´s and the behave-yourself´s. Every single boy is the smartest and the hardest working, the bravest, strongest, the … Behind it, though, the tedium, the unbearable days of marches and orders, of shouts and iron discipline, of impositions and abuse. The school is the pride of the country at this point. "
The stage and the staging are both exposed. It´s not that cynicism rules, but that it requires consistency, it is necessary to reaffirm the discourse, because everyone has contributed, has sacrificed and has hoped, in the belief that there are compelling reasons to do so.
The notion of Homeland might assuage in part the doubts and the mistakes. It will make us all feel a little better and make things alright. We will be happy.
And we have this gallery of "elements": beings of flesh and blood, each with a name and an address. The author introduces them. There is a whole untold story beyond what is said, another universe taking shape under the brushstrokes of the story.
The narrator finally comes clean.
He has set the stage, waited for the right moment to reveal his own anguish, his deep humanity, and he does in “Lessons in Honesty” " In the gallery presiding the site of massive marches and acts, a gigantic board shows an inscription in red letters:` THE FUNDAMENTAL CLAY TO MOLD OUR DREAMS IS YOUTH, Ernesto Che Guevara . The day set for the inspection begins with great nervousness on the part of the of the officers. The students, on the other hand, swing between smart obedience to the supervisory looks of their commanders and who gives a shit slacking when they turn away. "
The text focuses on the minimal, the daily, that which challenges us in solitude. It probes history, going beyond mere appearances to reveal the farce and consider what is right. Landscape of Clay advocates a harsh but necessary justice, able to carry us beyond our illusions.
Sergio Ojeda Barias
Santiago de Chile
