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264 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1958
Then I asked about the birds that soared over the fortress.
“They’re always there,� he told me. “Don’t you remember that huaman means ‘eagle�? Sacsay huaman means ‘satiated eagle.’�
“Satiated? They must fill themselves with air.�
“No, son. They don’t eat. They’re the fortress eagles. They don’t need to eat, just soar over the fortress. They never die. They’ll be at the Final Judgment.�
I didn’t know if I loved the river or the bridge more. But both of them cleansed my soul, flooding it with courage and heroic dreams. All of the mournful images, doubts, and evil memories were erased from my mind.
“Not even the mother moon feels sorry for the war dead. She doesn’t mourn for them, they say. Her light won’t even shine on a dead man’s teeth; it’s the other way around, dead men’s teeth turn black, they say, in the moonlight. On the battlefields their bones must go on suffering until Judgment Day. Buzzards vomit when they eat one of those corpses.�
Whenever he describes flowers, insects, stones, and streams, Arguedas's language takes on its best temper, its most successful rhythm. His vocabulary loses all harshness, he joins the most delicate and fragile of words, speaks animatedly, becomes sweetly musical, and elates the reader with his impassioned imagery. "The Abancay lemon, large, thick-skinned, edible within and easy to peel, contains a juice which, when mixed with brown sugar, makes the most delicious and potent food in the world. It is burning and sweet. It instills happiness. It is as if one were drinking sunlight." This boundless enthusiasm for nature is based on and counterbalanced by a mystical ecstasy. The spectacle of the sun's appearance between scattered showers leaves the boy "uncertain" and unable to reason. That rapture contains a real alienation, concealing the seed of an animistic vision of the world. Natural reality heightens Ernesto's sensitivity to the point of complete self-absorption and leads him to a pagan idealization of plants, animals, and things. He attributes divine as well as human properties to them, making them sacred objects. Many of Ernesto's superstitions derive from his early childhood; they are the spiritual legacy of his Indian upbringing and the boy clings to them, subconsciously showing loyalty to that culture. His own situation, moreover, explains and favors this tendency to reject reason as a tie to reality, and to prefer obscure intuition and magic. In his personal situation Ernesto duplicates a process that the Indians have experienced collectively; that is why he is a symbolic character. Reality can hardly be "logical" for the exploited Indian peasant, scorned and humiliated all his life and defenseless against disease and poverty; nor can the world be rational for the outcast child, rootless among men, forever exiled. On the contrary it is essentially absurd.