Award-winning writer Brenda Lozano here juxtaposes the experiences of two Mexican women born in different centuries, brought together by a murder, Zoe and Feliciana. Feliciana’s character’s rooted in the actual life of Maria Sabina Magdalena Garcia a Oaxacan curandera (healer) born at the end of the nineteenth century, who lived through revolution and periods of enormous social upheaval yet remained true to the traditions of her ancestors. Her ritualistic use of hallucinogenic mushrooms drawn from the local hillsides brought her international fame, profiled in Time magazine and visited by academics and celebrities including Prince and, reputedly, Bob Dylan. Like Maria Sabina, Feliciana’s a curandera who’s both embraced and rejected her heritage, taking on the role of healer to perform ceremonies usually reserved for the curandero i.e. men. She tells her story to Zoe, a young journalist from Mexico City, a woman whose inability to break free of social expectations has caused her to live vicariously through the actions of her more rebellious sister Leandra, but whose encounter with Feliciana causes her to reflect on her own attitudes and values.
The women’s voices alternate throughout but setting’s as significant as people here. Feliciana lives in rural Oaxaca, a region whose relative isolation and rugged geography has contributed to the survival of pre-colonial beliefs, customs, and languages. There’s a timelessness to her sections, a sense that the contemporary world is a distraction at best. Zoe has grown up steeped in outside forms of cultural expression drawn from American media, from The Simpsons onwards. Feliciana who can neither read or write, has rejected Spanish, the ” government’s tongue,” speaking instead through the indigenous language forms of her family and community, using interpreters to communicate with outside visitors. This is highlighted in Lozanos’s rendering of Feliciana’s chapters which are marked by an emphasis on orality, the rhythms of her speech both lyrical and elliptical, in contrast to Zoe’s more direct, conventional voice.
Feliciana’s narrative’s filled with references to her cousin Paloma, whose brutal death’s the catalyst for her encounter with Zoe. Paloma was Muxe, the third gender recognised by Oaxaca’s indigenous Zapotec population. Like many other Muxe Paloma’s status was liminal, although not strictly ostracised, she was celebrated by some, reviled by others, for her refusal to conform to rigid notions of gender identity or heteronormativity. Once a curandera, Paloma declared herself a bruja, a witch who revelled in her growing notoriety. She’s paralleled in Lozano’s plot by Zoe’s sister Leandra, queer, iconoclastic and politically radical, she’s everything Zoe’s not.
Through Zoe and Feliciano, Lozano’s novel explores key aspects of Mexican culture and society: issues of belonging and gender identity, forms of patriarchal oppression and the violent legacy of colonialism. But she does so in a remarkably understated fashion, her book unfolds at an exceptionally leisurely pace, and although it opens with Paloma’s murder there’s no sense of narrative tension connected to exploring and solving the nature of this crime. If anything, this is more a feminist study in character, place and ways of living. Feliciana’s sections are suffused with mystical elements, that I sometimes found hard to relate to, but even so were more compelling and convincing than Zoe’s contributions. This lack of balance was a problem for me overall, Feliciana's words had a strength and power lacking in Zoe’s, who seemed almost extraneous for much of the time. I was fascinated though by Lozano’s depiction of Oaxaca’s traditional communities, although I wished she’d delved into Muxe culture in greater depth. However, translator Heather Cleary’s afterword was incredibly useful for filling in aspects of the social and cultural background of Lozano’s text, and sufficiently spoiler free to make it worth reading first.
Rating: 3.5
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher MacLehose Press, part of Quercus