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Our Assessment:
A- : effective take on the Argentinian 'disappeared' See our review for fuller assessment.
Review Consensus: - Return to top of the page - The complete review's Review:
Purgatory is the story of Emilia Dupuy, whose husband, Simón Cardoso, disappeared early during Argentina's 'Dirty War'.
The novel opens thirty years later with a striking scene in which Emilia, now living in New Jersey, sees Simón at a local lounge bar -- except that the Simón she sees still looks exactly as he had thirty years earlier, completely unchanged and untouched by time.
If I can put myself on the same map as him, sooner or later we're bound to meet.Emilia's father was Orestes Dupuy, someone closely connected to the regime -- an ardent supporter of and propagandist for the hard-line, take-no-prisoners approach -- and the holder of considerable power and influence. An arrogant man, he expected his family to live up to his expectations and demands -- but was also willing to make easy sacrifices when it suited him, or his position demanded it. When his wife began to lose her mind, for example, he had few qualms about shoving her off into a care facility. Dupuy helped his other son-in-law, the husband of Emilia's sister, Chela to considerable success and riches, but when the young man's Ponzi scheme began to unravel Dupuy made sure first that he could save face. But he didn't sacrifice that son-in-law -- though he told him that he and Chela and their son: "are going to disappear, but not yet." (In that case the disappearance was one the son-in-law actually had some say in -- and led only to a safe off-shore hideaway, where the family could live in peace and then eventually move to the United States.) As to his other son-in-law, it's pretty clear -- and Emilia hears it often enough -- that Dupuy had him disappeared, that it was his doing that led to Simón's undoing. Purgatory is a novel of that seemingly endless state of uncertainty -- is he alive or is he dead ? what happened to him ? how ? why ? --, as well as the inability to let go: Emilia can not be sure whether Simón simply fled to take up another life for some reason, or whether he was killed, and erased from existence. Even where it's obvious, given the times and circumstances and what was happening all around, Emilia doesn't want to have to believe that Simón was killed (or that her father was behind it); the truth is too devastating and too much to bear. Several sections of Purgatory are narrated by a first-person narrator bearing a close resemblance to author Martínez -- a long-time exile from Argentina, a teacher at Rutgers, author of the same books, etc. He meets Emilia several times in near present-day New Jersey, and learns both about her finding Simón, and of her life up to this time. He says: I met her because I'm interested in cartographers, who are very much like novelists in their determination to modify reality.Out of these different perspectives, and through the lives of Emilia, the monstrous Depuy, and the others, as well as of observer Martínez, a very effective portrait of the horror of the Argentine experience -- and its long-lingering aftereffects -- comes together. Martínez offers many inspired scenes, from Emilia's certainty that she has finally been reunited with Simón after thirty years to an Argentina where the wildest stories are considered plausible (while the ugly truth is not spoken of) to a nicely imagined meeting between Dupuy and Orson Welles, whom Dupuy wants to hire to make a propaganda film about Argentina. This is a wonderful, uncompromising picture of a country in a state of delusion, where terror -- often arbitrary -- leads to a pliant mass that dares not question even the most outlandish claims and where supposed glories -- the football (soccer) World Cup comes to town in 1978, for example -- are simply artificial distractions that can't change the underlying hollowness and falsehood the country is built on. Martínez presents a society entirely built on lies -- and rather effectively so, as almost everyone goes along with them. The figure of near-complete power, Dupuy, -- who nevertheless also manages to extricate himself from being implicated in the horrors when democracy (and sanity) slowly return -- is willing to treat his own family members as pawns, sending Emilia off on wild goose chases so as to keep her from being a nuisance to his own ambitions, for example. While parts of Purgatory are uneven -- Martínez's stabs at sex, for example, really don't come off very well -- overall this is a very creative and richly imagined work of considerable power, and certainly among the best of the many novels about the desaparecidos. - M.A.Orthofer, 16 January 2012 - Return to top of the page - Purgatory:
- Return to top of the page - Tomás Eloy Martínez was born in Argentina in 1934 and died in 2010. - Return to top of the page -
© 2012 the complete review
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