One usually hears about Latin America if there has been an unforeseen coup, a currency crisis, a new Nobel laureate or an impromptu celebrity wedding. This collection is trying to change that and the author, living alternately in New York and Mexico City, is wonderfully equipped to bring light to that region that is steeped in suspicion and mystery. Her travels take her from revolutions to political candidacies, from true believers in every corner of the political spectrum to the disenchanted masses tired of the cant and the sermons from the big brother up north. She shows the mad psychology of warfare, the impossible human dignity that blooms in every sort of adversity. Her writing is powerful because it isn't ornate but informed, distinguished and very scrupulous. Miss Guillermoprieto is a throwback to the kind of reporting that has died on the vine;she is interested in particulars, researches well and doesn't seem to be the least interested in trying to score a showcase piece that has a message but no content. She just writes down what she sees and it's mesmerizing.

One usually only hears about Latin America if there has been an unforeseen coup, a currency crisis, a new Nobel laureate or an impromptu celebrity wedding. This collection is trying to change that and the author, living alternately in New York and Mexico City, is wonderfully equipped to bring light to a region that is steeped in suspicion and mystery. Her travels take her from revolutions to political candidacies, from true believers in every corner of the political spectrum to the disenchanted masses tired of cant and sermons of the big brother up north. She shows the mad psychology of perpetual warfare, the impossible human dignity that blooms in every sort of adversity.
Her writing is powerful because it isn't ornate but informed, distinguished and very scrupulous. Miss Guillermoprieto is a throwback to the kind of reporting that has died on the vine; she is interested in particulars, researches well and doesn't seem to be the least interested in trying to score a showcase piece that has a message but no content. She just writes down what she sees and it's mesmerizing.

In an era of media consolidation, dying newspapers and the death of international coverage, "The Heart that Bleeds" is a welcome breath of fresh air. Alma Guillermoprieto, a journalist at The New Yorker rips the cover off Latin America, introducing us to the people and institutions that dominate life in the region. Even if you're not interested in Latin American culture and politics, check out this book. It is one of the finest examples of true journalism in recent years. It revels in what is fast becoming a lost art form.

I had only vague knowledge of the history of the Chiapas region of Mexico before I read this novel, which tells the story of a fictional uprising (based on a couple of real ones) with many stunning similarities to the Zapatista uprising of 1994. But you don't need to be interested in the social and political history of Chiapas to appreciate this novel -- indeed, too much awareness may cause you to miss the book's many fine qualities beyond its political prescience.

Castellanos masterfully weaves the lives of numerous people together in a narrative which is often captivating. Keeping the characters straight is only a problem at first, for soon you have in your head a remarkably clear picture of them all. I found myself caring equally for the fates of characters I knew would clash with each other, and this is one of the great accomplishments of the novel.

Some of the language and imagery, based on Mayan mythology, gets obscure and occasionally tedious, but this is a minor complaint, for the majority of the tale is stunningly clear and suspenseful. The book is filled with Mexican and Mayan words, which may seem off-putting at first, but their sense can usually be discovered through the context and a glossary of the most obscure words is provided at the end of the book. I found myself enjoying having some of the words left untranslated, for it strengthened the immediate poetry in the writing, and the sense of place inherent throughout. There are also an introduction and an afterword which provide useful information about Castellanos and the history of Chiapas.

Those who did not learn from the cenruries-old history of the Chiapas are now repeating it.The book is depressing and disturbing, because the outcome will not change - especially since the latest revolt has been preempted by socialist/communist rebels. The case for the Chiapas Indios seems hopeless, now and in the future. The poetry brought to this account is overwhelming. Everything comes alive, stark and brilliant. It is sad that the author had to die so young. In reading the book, it helps to know some Spanish. A glossary at its end could be helpful.

I have just had the pleasure of reading one of the most exciting and challenging books that I will read this year, and it's only January. The book is titled The Book of Lamentations and it was written in 1962 by the now deceased Rosario Castellanos. It has only recently been translated by Esther Allen, for reasons that are now completely obscure to me, since after reading it, you'll wish you could have read it years ago.
This book is ostensibly about a fictional uprising in Chiapas that took place shortly after the land redistribution attempts by the PRI were begun in the 1930s. But to see it as only that is to miss the deeper levels of the book. It is also about the inherent inequalities of perception that challenge us, both from within and without our social groupings.
The main conflict is over the role of the government in overseeing the destruction of the fincas in Chiapas. When the agent of the government arrives to redistribute the land back to the peasants and destroy the system that always left the Tzotzils of the region overworked and permanently impoverished in their villages, he encounters the entrenched resistance of the landed Ladino gentry.
Meanwhile, in the villages of the countryside, where the Indians live, there is a religious revival, and not of Catholicism, but of the pagan religion that has never been fully destroyed in the area. This part of the book appears to be based on an episode in the Yucatan uprising of the 1850's, but is actually a deeper analysis of the role of the directly inspired mystic as a critique of the established traditions.
When the Indians finally begin their revolution, it is started by one of the most shocking events in the book. Yet, with the author's skill and courage at facing the event, one does not cringe or turn away from it, but acknowledges it in the same way that the engineer who witnesses it does: "more out of fascination than of fear."
The book examines closely the role of religion in fostering and in destroying revolution. Near the end, the book contains a conversation between the atheist governor of the region and the archbishop. While one might hope for a longer, and more full description of their conversation, the episode rings true, as we always wish for more answers in these areas than we can get.
The book holds no character up for esteem, all are there for your perusal as they are. If you are looking for a hero you will not find one here, it is populated by real people with the real faults and weaknesses that we all have.
If, on the other hand, you want to read a book that carries with it a timeless quality, one that will challenge you and force you to come to terms with the ethical ambiguities that plague us all, this book will dominate your thoughts for some time after you have put it down

Is Alma Guillermoprieto a LatinAmerican writer? She seems to be one of those New York Times "smart" reporters that look at Latin America from a 5 star hotel bar. Pretty mediocre interpretation of dramatic events.

"Looking for History" is an enjoyable, vivid collection of articles on Latin America. The piece on Eva Peron is especially fascinating and surreal. Here Guillermoprieto is at her best, writing a very balanced portrait of a near-mythic character. We learn that Eva and Juan Peron were both unlikely superstars and yet somehow, once united, became a political and media tag-team powerhouse. We also learn that the story of Eva's corpse is perhaps more interesting, and certainly more bizarre, than her real life. Stuffed by a taxidermist, her body traveled across the Atlantic several times -- at one point collecting dust in an attic -- before being laid to rest in Buenos Aires decades after her death. Guillermoprieto does not report new facts here. Anyone who has read a good biography on Evita will already know the lurid details surrounding the corpse. But Guillermoprieto handles this material so well that it reads better than a Borges story. Indeed, she seems to know that any good telling of Latin America, whether factual or fictional, must include some dimension of absurdity.

Some of the strongest articles in "Looking for History" are on Colombia's civil war. She details how the FARC, the country's largest guerilla group, went from a ragtag team of 200 Marxist fighters to a revolutionary army that now has some 17,000 troops. She also goes into the background of Colombia's rightwing death squads, particularly the AUC, and shows how these paramilitary units actually feed off of the rebels. She mentions, for example, that one-third of the AUC's members are actually fighters plucked from the guerilla groups. Many of these converts are former hostages of the AUC, who have even been viciously tortured and beaten by the paramilitaries. Once released, the guerillas often return to the death squads and freely join the enemy side. It is a strange story, and Guillermoprieto interviews these converts -- many of them women -- to understand what made them fight in the first place, and then what made them into turncoats. These personal stories, so confused, so profoundly chaotic, seem to represent the turmoil of the entire Colombian nation. Here loyalties are tangled, identities fractured, and the lines between civilian and soldier hopelessly blurred. Guillermoprieto communicates this all so well, showing that no one is truly innocent or, for that matter, completely villainous.

Finally, the pieces on Mexico are exceptional, especially the one on Subcomandante Marcos. Her portrait of the Zapatista leader is complex but fair, not presenting him as a sacred hero, nor as some warmongering radical. She fits him somewhere in between, flawed for sure, but also noble. He is a man motivated by ego and fame, enjoying the hero worship that now surrounds him. But he also spearheaded a just cause -- the rights of the Indian peasant -- and used a savvy media campaign to champion this group and overthrow a corrupt regime. This approach to revolution, using words over AK-47s, distinguishes Marcos, making him a truly unique rebel leader. And Guillermoprieto is quick to point this out. But she is also willing to point out his failures -- some of which have cost many innocent lives. On top of this, she includes a number of rare but interesting historical facts on Mexico and its southern states in particular. She mentions that President Lazaro Cardenas, back in the late 1930s, was the very first Mexican leader to ever visit Chiapas, and that the region was so remote in those days that it took him six weeks to reach his destination. There were no railways and very few navigable roads -- the president had to use burros and horses to complete his trip.

All the articles are peppered with these kinds of facts, making the book a fun and informative read. Moreover, and perhaps more important, Guillermoprieto doesn't pull any punches. She describes Latin America as it is. Intriguing, yes. Lively, most definitely. But also pitiful, horrific, violent, evil, petty and perhaps, in some ways, hopeless. "Looking for History" is not politically correct; it is just correct.

I've always been interested in learning more about Latin America. I found this book to be very readable. It gives vivid pictures of Latin American figures and reports an in depth review and analysis of problems surrounding Latin America. The short stories covers Colombia, Cuba, Mexico, Peru and figures such as Evita Peron, Fidel Castro, Che, among others. The author is very knowledgable and draws on her personal experiences to add on her snapshots. Overall, "Looking for History" is quite a worthwhile read for those who wants to get their toes in the water of Latin America history.

I'm not a musicologist and couldn't tell you if the music info here is 100% accurate. As someone who's lived in and studied Brazil for 11 years however, I found the author's descriptions of favela life to be very well done. There's information here I've never seen elsewhere. Her musicology may leave a lot to be desired, but to say her opinion on race and cultural issues in Brazil is flat-out wrong strikes me as the opinion of someone with a nativist axe to grind. Perhaps some readers originally thought this book's primary focus /was/ samba when they bought it. That is not the case: it's a well written amateur ethnology of favela life. Be forewarned. Read this book if you want a decent (if necessarily superficial) introduction to the life of the urban poor in modern Brazil. For samba, specifically, or a more advanced analysis, I suggest Hermano Vianna's Mystery of Samba or anyone of a number of academic works on Brazil, starting with Freyre's "Masters and Slaves" or Da Matta's "Carnivals, Rogues and Heroes."

If you are interested in learning the true roots of Samba and Brazilian Carnaval(and not just the obligatory blurbs that you see in guidebooks), then this book is an absolute must for you to read. Alma Guillermoprieto does a superb job describing the rich religious, historical, and socioeconomic roots of Brazilian Carnaval and Samba - both of which have become famous around the world, yet remain remarkably poorly understood.

Guillermoprieto writes in a very engaging, enjoyable style, which occassionally seems more like an engrossing novel than a non-fiction work. If you have ever been curious to learn more about Brazilian culture, this is the book to start with!

Guillermoprieto is both a skilled writer and a serious scholar. That combination makes this erudite, and exceedingly detailed study of the black underclass in Brazilian society both readable and engaging. She employs an inductive approach, using the culture surrounding the Samba and Carnival in Rio as a base for exploring the status of blacks in Brazilian society and the many contradictions and ironies in light of their prevailing influence in all levels of Brazilian culture.

The story is fascinating and the author admirable, because in order to learn and effectively represent the culture of the Samba and black Brazilian society (which she pretty effectively demonstrates are in many ways largely synonymous) she not only joined a Samba club in order to participate in Carnival, but also moved into the favelas of Rio.

Guillermoprieto depicts the injustice of the blacks' fate in Brazil in a dispassionate, yet also very poignant and sympathetic manner. She allows the compelling facts to represent themselves without embellishing them with personal assessments, which makes her writing that much more powerful.

This is really a great book: a fascinating story about the complex organization and serious part of the Brazilian economy that the Samba and Carnival comprise, and a distinctive and holistic representation of black Brazilian society and the rest of that nation in its reflection.