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“It was as if the prince, he thought, journeying through vast, lonely regions, had at last found himself before the cavern where the beauty is sleeping guarded by the dragon. And as if, moreover, he had become aware that the dragon was not a menacing creature there at her side watching over her, as we imagine him in the myths of our childhood, but instead, and much more frighteningly, a creature inside of her: as if she were a dragon-princess, an unfathomable monster, at once chaste and breathing fire, at once innocent and revolting: an absolutely purehearted child in a communion dress, possessed by the nightmares of a reptile or a bat.�

A young man by the name of Martín reflects thusly on the lovely lady at the center of Sabato's extraordinary tale - Alejandra.

It's a Saturday in May, 1953, and Alejandra makes her presence felt to seventeen-year-old Martín for the first time when he was sitting on a bench near the statue of Ceres in Parque Lezama in downtown Buenos Aires. Martín was reflecting on what his mother told him, that he existed only because she was careless; that if only she had the courage, he would have ended up in the sewer. Ever since, he has always thought of her as the “sewer mother.� Martín continued reflecting on how he sees himself as awkward, ugly, dull-witted, and that he is terrified of human beings since they are all perverse and filthy.

Just then, Martín senses someone standing behind him, attempting to communicate. The voice belongs to a woman. "But what if none of that is true?" When Martín turns, he sees her carefully scrutinizing him, like a painter observing his model. A short dialogue follows. She tells him he's more than just a young kid; he's an individual with depth and a rare physical type - tall with a very narrow build, reminiscent of an El Greco figure. She continues and at one point says, "I know you're an angelic being. Besides, as I've already said, I don't know whether that's what pleases me about you or whether it's what I hate most."

After a few more words are exchanged, she walks away. Martín takes a good look at her: tall, long black hair, a book in her left hand, and walking with a certain nervous energy. Martín realizes the profundity of this meeting. He will never be the same person again.


The section of Parque Lezama where Martín first meets Alejandra

Martín was excited for many days afterward. Each afternoon Martín waited for her with the mixed feelings of fear and hope. Then, finally, one day she appeared by the same bench in Parque Lezama, wearing all black. And it seemed to Martín even her eyes were black, although afterwards he could see they were dark green. Her smile was cruel and sarcastic and her laughter and all her movements violent. Martín tells his friend Bruno, “She fascinated me like a dark abyss.�

Martín is completely infatuated. He eagerly anticipates a third meeting with beautiful Alejandra. However, days, weeks, even months go by, and no Alejandra. Martín sinks into a deep despair. Alejandra does eventually appear and she invites Martín to join her on a trip to her family's mansion on the outskirts of the city.

Oh, Martín, now you're really in for it. As soon as they enter, the sound of a clarinet can be heard. “What's that?� Martín asks. “Uncle Bebe, the madman,� Alejandra explained. Martín is treated to more episodes from the family history, including a Major Bonifacio who was beheaded in 1852 where the head was thrown into the parlor, whereupon Bonifiacio's wife died of the shock and and another member of the household went mad. It's with good reason Alejandra tells Martín directly, “Don't you realize? This is a family of crazy people.� More craziness spills forth. Alejandra leads Martín to the room where her great grandfather, age ninety-five, relates a detailed account of 19th century history, events the ancient geezer has been continually replaying in his mind for many years. And, by the way, her great grandfather's room is where the head of Bonifiacio is still kept in a box on a shelf.


Alejandra belongs to an old aristocratic family and lives in the crumbling family mansion on the outskirts of Buenos Aires

Craziness and mind-bending wildness are ratcheted up even more when Alejandra speaks of her own past, beginning when she, at age eleven, found her father sleeping with a woman some years after her mother died, a traumatic experience that propelled her to run away from home. What follows is for each reader to explore but I will share a quote from the text: That freckled-faced little girl is Alejandra: she is eleven and her hair has reddish glints in it. She is a thin, pensive child, but a violently and cruelly pensive one, as though her thoughts were not abstract, but crazed, burning-hot serpents. It is that child who has remained intact in some obscure region of her self. (author's italic).

While reading Sabato's novel, I had to ask myself: Who from the world of literature does Alejandra remind me of? The only person I could think of was Ms. Nicola Six from Martin Amis' London Fields, where I describe Nicola as “a modern day Helen of Troy, X-rated femme fatale and manifestation of goddess Kali all rolled up into one � everything you always wanted and everything you never wanted, your most cherished dream and your most dreaded nightmare, complete with Eastern European accent, mysterious Middle Eastern origins, Ms. World face and figure, shiny dark hair and even shinier dark eyes.� However, unlike thirty-something Nicola, Alejandra is only eighteen. But, and this proves a critical point, a part of Alejandra possesses, as Sabato puts it, “the frightful wisdom of an old man.�

Alejandra leaves Martín hanging when it comes to two murky, untouchable subjects: Fernando and The Blind. There's also a question Alejandra poses to Martín, a question that is foreshadowing with a cruel vengeance: “Don't you think there's something uncanny, something sacred about fire?�

On Heroes and Tombs fulfills Sabato's vision of what authentic literature should be: deep, profound, "created with blood," a work addressing the big questions of life and death within our intense, immediate, all too human existential condition.

The novel also features many reflections on Argentine literature, especially those tales written by Jorge Luis Borges. Actually, Borges himself makes a cameo appearance out on a city street. "The features of the man's face seemed to have been sketched in and then to have been half rubbed out with an eraser." Any guesses as to Sabato's opinion on his illustrious contemporary?

Lastly, I would be remiss if I didn't mention the famous section of Sabato's masterpiece: REPORT ON THE BLIND (all caps for emphasis). I urge you to read On Heroes and Tombs to discover how this diabolical report ties in with Alejandra, Fernando, and...fire. One of the most gripping novels I've ever encountered.


Argentine author Ernesto Sabato, 1911-2011