In a one-room building behind the archbishop's offices in San Salvador there are high-piled stacks of depositions recording what is known about the last hours in the lives of thousands of people lost to El Salvador over the last four years….
At its best, One Day of Life, a novel by exiled Salvadoran author Manlio Argueta, reads as if it were written from those files and drawn from those grisly images. As he tells the story of Guadalupe Fuentes and her family's quotidian ordeals in mountainous Chalatenango province the peasant voices are real with the woefulness and the sheer determination to survive that pervades the Salvadoran countryside. The matter-of-factness of horror is there….
When it works, this book does what virtually no other volume or newspaper story or television report in the United States has even begun to do. It renders the Salvadoran peasant visible…. In One Day of Life they are presented, at last, as something more than political ciphers.
The ambience of rural poverty—the pervasiveness of the violence, the intimate presence of a repressive system that feeds on the violence—is drawn in telling detail….
And yet there is a great deal about this book, alas, that is so obvious, so banal, so plainly bad as literature and so potentially misleading as politics and sociology, that one hesitates to praise it at all. It is a painfully awkward work that teeters somewhere between art and polemic, truth and lies. It calls itself a novel, but its roots are in propaganda. In much of its intellectual dishonesty, unfortunately, Argueta's book is reminiscent once again of what is to be found at the unofficial Human Rights Commission: the tendency to turn your opponents into demons and your allies into angels, which is endemic to Salvadoran society and nowhere more evident than on the left.
You might expect that with so much real horror at hand the opposition would see...
(The entire section is 815 words.)