The Years with Laura Diaz

This is a dreamy book, in many ways feels like being dragged into a riptide of beautiful and dense and continuous prose. The perspective tumbles around, between the minds of protagonist Laura Diaz and her family members and lovers, often a narrative that hunts down a truth not consciously known to our narrator but which even so underlies each event. A conversation between Laura and one of her lovers seamlessly cascades into a wordless exchange of secret thoughts, which in their specificity also reveal broad truths about the human experience.

I'm still trying to wrestle with all this book "means". There's so much packed into this lifetime epic that traces the major political events of 20th century Mexico as much as it does the life of Laura Diaz. (It was a very fun way to learn about some of the history, especially the Frida y Diego cameos, but I wish I'd solidified more historical knowledge before I read it.) I resonated with Laura's internal conflicts as she tries to figure out her place in post-revolution Mexico, to figure out what meaning her life can have both in personal relationships and in broader political endeavors, especially as a privileged woman who is also constantly navigating the waters of grief. Laura consistently loses herself in trying to understand and care for others, until she finally discovers the meaning-making and contributory artistic calling that pulls the fragments of her life and experiences together.

The writing is beautiful and often confusing. The symbolism is ripe and lyrical. There are aphorisms that succinctly, cuttingly lay bare the burdens of life in a dark world, the meanings or lack thereof of individual lives. There is the seemingly evergreen conundrum of young revolutionaries (or people who want to change the world, who fight hard and lose a lot for what they believe) who find their ideals and dreams trodden into the ground as time goes on, the struggle of idealism that either dies young or lives long enough to become a villain. There's the long confusion of family members who don't understand one another or who understand one another too well, and to their detriment. The characters are stunningly wrought if not always easy to understand or to like; they're larger than life in their arguments, their martyrdom, their ideals.

There are pieces I found frustrating: I don't think this book passes the Bechdel test (which is not an end-all, but indicates the focus of the book on the men in Laura's life). Her relationship with Harry felt like it could have been cut from the book -- the dynamics bothered me and I think the points made in this piece of the plot could have been made elsewhere. Fuentes seems to have a fascination with Jews and the Holocaust that feels... weird, including the martyrdom of Raquel Mendes. At times the poetry of the writing undermines the point.

But I think there's much more here for me to mine, and I'll hopefully be returning to re-read this book.