The Lacuna

It is with chagrin that I realize and admit how little history I know of North America during the first half of the 20th century. I was born in 1944, so I have very little personal recollection. Our high school history books didn't go that far, or else we never got to the final chapters. And so it was with great interest that I read The Lacuna, the latest novel by Barbara Kingsolver. I'm a Kingslover fan, having read most of her books, and I also enjoy historical fiction, which this is. Set in Mexico and the US from 1929 through the early 50's, it follows the life of a fictional boy/man born in the US to an American father and a Mexican mother. At the age of twelve Harrison Shepherd and his mother come to live in Mexico, where Harrison eventually becomes cook and sometime secretary/typist in the household of the artists Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo, and who through them and their idealistic communism, meets and serves the exiled Lev Trotsky. - When Trotsky is murdered by Stalin's assassin, Shepherd, now a emotionally damaged young man, returned to the states, where he eventually settles in North Carolina and becomes a renowned writer of fiction set in ancient Mexico. - So now for history we have the depression era, the second world war, and the political turmoil of the communist witch hunt decade following the war, a time when art and artists came under scrutiny and were frequently destroyed by false charges of communist activity or leanings. - This book has been described as "provocative", "rich and daring", a treatise on politics and art. It is said to appeal to "lovers of language". The Seattle Times is quoted as saying "A sweeping mural of sensory delights and stimulating ideas...Readers will feel the sting of connection between then and now." - I found all of these claims to be true for me. The parallels between the anti-communism era and the politics of now are startling in their use of the power of fear driven politics. There is much food for thought. - And yet, as a lover of language, I reveled in the elegance of the words. Here is an example, in a letter from Shepherd to Frida: November 2, 1943 Dear Frida, A glittering shower falls at a slant across my window. Some form of god has come to visit our dark autumn tunnel, like Zeus making himself a beam of light to impregnate Danae. In this case, it is not really glittering light but beech leaves. You've never seen anything as dramatic as these American trees, dying their thousand deaths. The giant beech next door intends to shiver off every hair of its pelt. The world strips and goes naked, the full year of arboreal effort piling on sidewalks in flat, damp strata. The earth smells of smoke and rainstorms, calling everything to come back, lie down, submit to a quiet, moldy return to the cradle of origins. This is how we celebrate the Day of the Dead in America: by turning up our collars against the scent of earthworms calling us home. - The characters are richly described and well developed. Much of the drama of the setting is real, factual. And it all comes together in the hands of one endearing character we ladies of a certain age will appreciate and hope to emulate, the generous, courageous, and wise Violet Brown.