communication breakdown

Book Review: Under the Volcano (1947)

[ 3 / 10 ] Under the Volcano is a tough read, but I guess that is only fitting considering its tough subject matter. It depicts the tragic latter days of its lead character, Geoffrey Firmin, a British ex-consulate to Mexico. Recently resigned from his position due to tensions between the two countries, he lives now in the small Mexican town of Quauhnahuac. This is the least of his problems, however; his real struggle is with alcoholism. A self-deprecating and relentless drunk, the novel chronicles how his dependence on liquor drives him into a doomed spiral from whence he cannot recover. Despite the promise of hope, and the opportunity to escape his demons, he eventually succumbs to the inevitable. If it sounds depressing, that's because it is. Make no mistake, this is a dark and frustrating read. Complicating matters is the fact that the style which the author employs is very nonlinear, full of obscure references and meandering, almost stream-of-consciousness thoughts. These things alone are not enough for me to discourage others from reading the book - in fact, most of Faulkner's work shares the same characteristics, and are all worth a read despite the high level of effort required to complete them. But in the case of Under the Volcano, there's no real payoff. After 400 pages of slogging through difficult prose and macabre inner dialogue, I find myself no better, wiser, or more enlightened...

The novel begins not from Firmin's point of view, but instead from that of his friend Jacques Laruelle, one year after Firmin's death. His thoughts are dominated by frustration, echoing many of the same sentiments that most friends and family members of alcoholics must feel. We then rewind one year to watch the inevitable events unfold. Firmin's past is tumultuous, and his history is preoccupied with one person: his ex-wife Yvonne, who divorced him a year ago due to the alcoholism. The main portion of the novel begins just before the Day of the Dead in 1938. Yvonne shows up in Mexico to rekindle her relationship with her ex-husband, thus setting off a chain of unfortunate events that lead to their destruction.

Firmin is a "sophisticated" drunk, the kind who can consume inordinate amounts of alcohol and yet seem to behave perfectly normally from a stranger's point of view. But we can see through the minutae of his actions and the desperation of his thoughts that he his hopelessly dependent on the substance. He seemingly can't go 5 minutes without a drink, and it completely stunts his ability to interact normally with anyone. He is tragic in every sense of the word; he brings all of his troubles upon himself. He reveals that, despite constant written correspondence from Yvonne over the last year, he simply stored all the letters in a box, not replying or even reading them, although he knew all too well that just one word from him would have been enough to send her running back into his arms. When she finally does arrive in Mexico, he can't stay sober long enough to tell her how much he clearly loves her. And when she reaches out for him at the very end, he pushes her away for good and goes seeking escape.

Despite a potentially interesting plot, the book is simply a chore to read. I found myself completely unable to concentrate on many of the long passages of wayward prose. In all fairness, the one thing at which the book succeeds is in painting a portrait of an alcoholic; it is frank and merciless in its depiction of Firmin and how he wasted his life away through drink. There are also some moving passages that relate the private throughts of Yvonne and Geoffrey pining for one another; but in the end, it is all in vain. If it were a much shorter and more straighforward read, it might be worth a recommendation. But the amount of effort required to complete it is not nearly worth the little enlightenment provided by the story.