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184 pages, Paperback
First published March 19, 1955
Nights around here are filled with ghosts. You should see all the spirits walking through the streets. As soon as it is dark they begin to come out. No one likes to see them. There鈥檚 so many of them and so few of us that we don鈥檛 even make the effort to pray for them anymore, to help them out of their purgatory. We don鈥檛 have enough prayers to go around鈥hen there are our sins on top of theirs. None of us still living is in God鈥檚 grace. We can鈥檛 lift up our eyes, because they鈥檙e filled with shame.When Juan Preciado visit鈥檚 his mother鈥檚 home of Comala to his father, the long deceased and 鈥�pure bile鈥� of a man, Pedro P谩ramo, he finds a town of rot and decay filled with ghosts, both figuratively and literally. This is a place of utter damnation, where the sins of a family are so strong that their bloodstained hands have tainted and tarnished the immortal souls of all they come in contact with, leaving in their wake a trail of withered, writhing spirits condemned to forever inhabit their hellish homes. There is nothing pleasant鈥攁side from the intense, striking poetry of Rulfo鈥檚 words鈥攖o be found in the history of Comala, a town burdened by a list of sins so long and dark that even the preacher鈥檚 soul cannot escape from the vile vortex.
Life is hard as it is. The only thing that keeps you going is the hope that when you die you鈥檒l be lifted off this mortal coil; but when they close one door to you and the only one left open is the door to Hell, you鈥檙e better off not being born鈥�This violent, vitriolic landscape forges an unforgettable portrait of Rulfo鈥檚 Mexico, eternally encapsulating his vision into the glorious dimensions of myth. The small novel reads like a bedtime story meant to instill good morality in children through fear, while still enchanting their mind鈥檚 eye with a disintegrating stage furnished by crumbling, cadaverous buildings and populated by doomed phantoms. His style is phenomenal, effortlessly swapping between past and present, character to character, all in order to build a montage of madness and damnation.
Behind him, as he left, he heard the murmuring.
I am lying in the same bed where my mother died so long ago; on the same mattress, beneath the same black wool coverlet she wrapped us in to sleep. I slept beside her, her little girl, in the special place she made for me in her arms.
I think I can still feel the calm rhythm of her breathing; the palpitations and sighs that soothed my sleep... I think I feel the pain of her death... But that isn't true.
Here I lie, flat on my back, hoping to forget my loneliness by remembering those times.
Because I am not here just for a while. And I am not in my mother's bed but in a black box like the ones for burying the dead. Because I am dead.
丿毓賰 賲賳 丕賱賲禺丕賵賮
賲丕毓丕丿 亘廿賲賰丕賳 兀丨丿 兀賳 賷禺賷賮賰
丨丕賵賱 丕賱鬲賮賰賷乇 賮賷 兀賲賵乇 爻丕乇丞 賱兀賳賳丕 爻賵賮 賳亘賯賶 賲丿賮賵賳賷賳 夭賲賳丕賸 胤賵賷賱丕賸
兀賷賯馗賳賷 丕賱丨乇 賰丕賳 噩爻丿 鬲賱賰 丕賱賲乇兀丞 丕賱賲氐賳賵毓 賲賳 鬲乇丕亘 貙 賵丕賱賲丨丕胤 亘賯卮賵乇 賲賳 鬲乇丕亘
賷鬲丨賱賱 賵賰兀賳賴 賷匕賵亘 賮賷 亘乇賰丞賺 賲賳 丕賱賵丨賱
賵賰賳鬲購 兀卮毓乇 亘兀賳賷 兀爻亘丨 賵爻胤 丕賱毓乇賯 丕賱匕賷 賷賯胤乇 賲賳賴丕
賵丕賮鬲賯丿鬲 丕賱賴賵丕亍 丕賱賱丕夭賲 賱賱鬲賳賮爻
毓賳丿卅匕賺 賳賴囟鬲 . 賰丕賳鬲 丕賱賲乇兀丞 賳丕卅賲丞 賵賰丕賳 賷賮賵乇 賲賳 賮賲賴丕 丿賵賷 賮賯丕毓丕鬲 卮亘賷賴丞 亘丕賱丨卮乇噩丞
鈥溾€斺€reguntaba por el pueblo, que se ve tan solo, como si estuviera abandonado. Parece que no lo habita. 鈥擭o es que lo parezca. As铆 es. Aqu铆 no vive nadie. 鈥� 驴Y Pedro P谩ramo? 鈥擯edro P谩ramo muri贸 hace muchos a帽os.鈥�Empezar茅 por lo malo, por esa estrella que no le di. A riesgo de caer en la herej铆a, creo que es una ruptura del hilo narrativo incomprensible y empobrecedora de la novela no mantener a Juan Preciado como el conductor de la historia durante toda la novela.
鈥淢e sent铆 en un mundo lejano y me dej茅 arrastrar. Mi cuerpo, que parec铆a aflojarse, se doblaba ante todo, hab铆a soltado sus amarras y cualquiera pod铆a jugar con 茅l como si fuera de trapo鈥�Tampoco me he sentido a gusto con esa idea que sobrevuela todo el relato de que los malos acaban penando sus maldades, en vida (鈥淓stoy comenzando a pagar. M谩s vale empezar temprano, para terminar pronto鈥�) o despu茅s de ella, o, lo que es lo mismo, con esa advertencia urbi et orbi de que una mala vida lleva aparejada una mala muerte. Consuelo dirigido a conformar a un pueblo que no encuentra justicia en vida.
鈥溾€n puro vagabundear de gente que muri贸 sin perd贸n y que no lo conseguir谩 de ning煤n modo鈥�Dicho esto, s铆 me gusta la idea de convertir este mundo nuestro representado en Comala en un purgatorio donde el m谩s fuerte y con menos escr煤pulos campa por su fueros temido y respetado por todos; corruptor de todo un pueblo, acaba con todo aquel que no se somete a sus intereses, teniendo al clero de su parte y siendo capaz incluso de utilizar a la revoluci贸n para sus fines. Y, por supuesto, me gusta el estilo fragmentario, la mezcla de tiempos, el encaje de la voz colectiva, la poes铆a del relato, la atm贸sfera, su ambig眉edad, su car谩cter fant谩stico-maravilloso鈥�
鈥淗ay multitud de caminos. Hay uno que va para Contla; otro que viene de all谩. Otro m谩s que enfila derecho a la sierra. Ese que se mira desde aqu铆, que no s茅 para d贸nde ir谩 -y me se帽al贸 con sus dedos el hueco del tejado, all铆 donde el techo estaba roto-. Este otro de por ac谩, que pasa por la Media Luna. Y hay otro m谩s, que atraviesa toda la tierra y es el que va m谩s lejos鈥�