The War of the End of the World has been called South America's War and Peace—and for good reason. Like Tolstoy's sprawling masterpiece, Mario Vargas Llosa's 1981 novel employs a sweeping, omniscient narrative that moves fluidly between characters from diverse backgrounds, creating a panoramic view of the conflict in Northeastern Brazil in 1897 revolving around the religious settlement in Canudos. The novel also delves into profound philosophical questions about human nature, destiny, and the forces that shape history, while exploring themes of love, betrayal, power, and the tragic absurdities of war—a monument to the complexities of society and culture during a time of upheaval.
Mario Vargas Llosa became fascinated with Canudos after reading Euclides da Cunha's Os Sertões (published in 1902), in which the Brazilian author documented the unfolding events in Northern Brazil and Canudos firsthand. This fascination proved enduring. Vargas Llosa conducted extensive research, read everything he could on the subject, and eventually traveled to Northern Brazil and Canudos with a friend who was familiar with the language and the region. Throughout the process, the Peruvian author acknowledged a significant obstacle: Portuguese, not Spanish, is the language of Brazil. Nevertheless, he was more than willing to invest the necessary time and effort, driven by his conviction that he had to write a novel about Canudos.
Antonio Conselheiro, known to his followers as "the Counselor," was a mysterious, tall, thin figure with long hair and a beard. He dressed in a purple tunic and carried a staff. For years, he wandered and preached across the hinterlands of Bahia in Northeastern Brazil. By 1897, the charismatic leader had settled in Canudos with his cult, which by then numbered in the thousands and eventually reached as many as 35,000. He preached millenarian salvation, heaven and hell, and spoke of the many names for the devil—Satan, the Can, the Dog.
The Counselor railed against the newly formed Republic, denouncing its separation of church and state, its civil marriages, its metric system, its census forms, and its motto of "Order and Progress." Bah! To Canudos' mystic leader, such measures and laws were nothing less than satanic devices of the Antichrist—the Great Can.
Meanwhile, an unrelenting tide of peasants, bandits, the sickly, and the destitute poured into Canudos, lured by the Counselor's unyielding, almost otherworldly spiritual magnetism. Among their ranks were hardened leaders and battle-scarred fighters, veterans of raids and pillage, masters of weapons both crude and sophisticated, and practitioners of guerrilla warfare—a force brimming with cunning and ferocity, formidable enough to challenge any army that dared to stand against them.
Following the defeat of the army by the rebels at Canudos—a shock to the leaders of the Republic in Rio de Janeiro—yet another army is sent, led by none other than a national hero: Colonel Antônio Moreira César, nicknamed "Throat-Slitter." He is a leader infamous for his ferocity and extreme brutality against anyone who dared to defy the Republic. Mario Vargas Llosa goes into great detail about how the Colonel deals with the rural population during his trek to Canudos, including stealing livestock from villagers to feed his troops. The Colonel even forces boys as young as eleven or twelve to join his army as soldiers, believing he will make men out of them.
For me, reading The War of the End of the World was a complete immersion into the lives of the women, men, and children who fill the novel's pages. I had the distinct feeling that I traveled to Northeastern Brazil during the ten days it took me to read Vargas Llosa's classic. All the gritty details of shootings, stabbings, slashings, floggings, starvation, and rapes are vividly rendered and unforgettable. However, the Peruvian author wrote much more than a historical account. This is a true work of literature that destabilizes any sense of narrative authority, forcing readers to question where, if anywhere, truth may be found in the story of Canudos.
As is made clear, the Counselor and his followers live by a millenarian religious myth, believing they are fighting to liberate mankind from evil—a conviction that transforms them into fanatics. But how much less fanatical are those, like Colonel Antônio Moreira César, who hold that the idea of a Brazilian Republic and "progress" justifies massacring untold thousands? Indeed, Mario Vargas Llosa demonstrates in The War of the End of the World that all histories are mediated by narrative frameworks, leading to the blurring of lines between historical events and fictionalized interpretations.
The Peruvian novelist is a proven master of storytelling, including, of course, creating memorable characters. A reader will encounter many in The War of the End of the World. Among their number, here's a quintet:
The Lion of Natuba – All of the Counselor's followers were illiterate, except for a physically deformed man with a mane of shaggy hair known as "The Lion of Natuba." He took extensive notes on what the Counselor said and listed a number of the Counselor's close disciples, who were given names such as "The Little Blessed One," "Mother Maria Quadrado," and "Abbot João." As Mario Vargas Llosa explained to an audience, he used these sparse notes to create fully rounded characters that retained an element of historical accuracy.
Galileo Gall – A rational positivist, anarchist, socialist, and veteran revolutionary, this redheaded Scotsman named himself after two scientific renegades: the Italian astronomer Galileo Galilei and Franz Joseph Gall, founder of the science of phrenology. The Scot believes one's character can be read through "palpation," or feeling the bumps on the head. He also insists that there is no such thing as chance in the unfolding of history, which leads him to make bold assertions about the revolutionary nature of the Counselor and the events in Canudos. Through the inclusion of this fascinating man of action, Vargas Llosa underscores the blurring of lines between historical events and fictionalized interpretations.
Jurema – “And from that moment on, despite the war closing in around her and the hunger and thirst that killed more people than the enemy bullets, Jurema was happy. More than she could ever remember having been, more than when she was married to Rufino, more than in that comfortable childhood in the shadow of Baroness Estela, at Calumbi.” The Peruvian author provides a lucid, striking depiction of how the War of Canudos transformed the life of the young and attractive Jurema, along with countless others in the state of Bahia.
Baron de Canabrava – “Politics had been a burden that he had taken upon himself because there was no one else to do so, because of the vast stupidity, irresponsibility, or corruption of others, not out of some heartfelt vocation: politics had always bored him, wearied, him, impressed him as being an inane, depressing occupation, since it revealed human wretchedness more clearly than any other.” So reflects this influential landowner, a major character in the novel, who recognizes the transition from a monarchy to a republic is never any easy one, and that's understatement.
The Nearsighted Journalist – Vargas Llosa frequently includes a writer in his novels, and he does so here—a shy, ugly, skinny journalist, never referred to by name, who carries his own mini writing desk everywhere he goes and writes with a quill pen. He is a memorable, likable character we, as readers, can genuinely root for. When his boss at the newspaper asks why he is so eager to accompany Colonel Antônio Moreira César on his expedition through the rough terrain to Canudos, the myopic journalist replies, “Seeing a flesh-and-blood hero, being close to someone very famous is very much a tempting prospect. It would be like seeing and touching a character in a novel.” Ah, such irony, Mario! A great Nobel winning Latin American author just can't help himself.
Harold Bloom includes The War of the End of the World on his list of the Great Books from the Western Canon. I will be making a prominent place on my bookshelf for this modern classic, a novel with universal relevance and endless interpretive possibilities—literature as an open, dynamic system of meaning that resists closure.
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