When I first read excerpts from Cartucho for SPAN 280 in 2021, I was surprised at how difficult to read I found it. Not in the typical sense that it is difficult to understand, but in that it is hard to find anything constant to latch on to. Even having read the full book, this impression remains. The chapters are short and disjointed and characters are barely introduced before their often-gruesome deaths are narrated. Though some names do return in later sections, it is a struggle to recall who was who – afterwards, all that remains in my head are a handful of names disconnected from their stories. I suppose this is an accurate approximation of the disorienting experience of being in the midst of a warzone.
There were only three characters who recurred frequently enough to stick out to me from this blur of names and faces. The first is, obviously, the narrator, and the second is her mother. The third is Pancho Villa, whose appearances throughout the book link its disjointed narrative to the history of the revolution as it has traditionally been told. Perhaps he stood out to me only because I already knew of his significance; I wonder how different my experience reading would have been if I were not aware of his historical role. As far as I can recall, he never directly interacts with the narrator, yet he is omnipresent through his interactions with surrounding characters. Because of this, it’s hard to discern how much of his description is genuine and how much is mythological, especially given the differences there are between his depiction in the original edition and the 1940 edition as his reputation changed (according to Ryan Long in the interview video). At times he is described as brutal, as when he murders Pablo Siañez over an argument in “The Two Pablos,” while at others he is merciful and sentimental, as when he spares the concheños in “General Villa’s Tears.” Then there is the interesting case of “Nacha Ceniceros,” where two conflicting stories are given and one is denounced as propaganda to slander the revolution.
Despite this connection to grand historical narratives through the figure of Villa, the story is otherwise radically different from these narratives in another: the character’s motivations. The explicitly economic, political, or ideological motives that revolutions are traditionally attributed to are almost entirely absent. I’m sure much of this is simply on account of the young narrator’s disregard for such complex topics, but her account nevertheless reveals the degree to which interpersonal connections can shape historical forces. Many characters, including the narrator herself, seem to drawn to Villa’s side because of his charisma or kinship ties rather than a conscious weighing of conflicting ideological positions or economic incentives. Of course, such forces were working in the background, but they were only one part of a much larger picture.
What do others think of the role of Villa throughout this story? How much do you think his depiction is mythological and how much is personal?
“a handful of names disconnected from their stories”
Or stories disconnected from the names? Do the names matter? (NB the narrator doesn’t even have a name.)
The name that stayed with you, however, was that of Villa. In the first edition of the book, there was a vignette dedicated to him. It’s the only one Campobello cut out for the second edition. Why do you think this might be?
Both stories disconnected from names and names disconnected from stories – for instance, I remember the name of El Kirilí but not who he was, while I remember a character being forced to run until he died of exhaustion but don’t remember his name. Also, I have to dispute that the narrator is unnamed – in “The Loaves of Bread,” Severo addresses her as “Nellie.”
I would assume that Campobello cut out the vignette dedicated to Villa for reasons relating to his changing reputation following the revolution. Since I don’t have the cut chapter at hand and don’t know much about how the historical situation, however, I can’t offer much more.
My long-lasting impression after finishing the book is that Pancho Villa is largely a mythical figure in the book. His presence looms large and is expressed in the ideologies of the characters, but he does not physically appear in the novel if I recall correctly. I think he personifies this idealistic warrior that is often used in war propaganda- a legendary character who others should look up to in pursuit of a common struggle.