For North Americans and Europeans, In Praise of the Stepmother is no doubt the best known and most controversial of all of Peruvian writer Mario Vargas Llosa's books. Wickedly witty and fun, this is a strange and beautiful little gem and a truly masterful and original piece of erotic storytelling.

Lucrecia, newly married to Lima resident, Don Rigoberto, an older, wealthy collector of erotic paintings, suddenly finds her position jeopardized by her husband's young son, Alfonso. She honestly wants the boy to love her, but at what cost? When Fonchito's hard won affection becomes hopelessly entangled with precocious--and dangerous--desire, the fun certainly begins, but the price, we see, may prove to be all too high.

As the relationship progresses into absurdity during Don Rigoberto's all-too-often absences, Vargas Llosa provides thematic commentary in the form of selections from the Don's art collection, included as full-color reproductions of famous paintings, from the Renaissance to the present day, each accompanied by a story to which the painting is to be an illustration. As the book progresses, so does the parade of paintings, twisting and expanding the concept of erotica.

For a small book, In Praise of the Stepmother has an enormous potential to enthrall and, yes, provoke. You might wonder how anyone could have written a book as good as this one. The only answer, of course, is that it is Vargas Llosa...at his best.

Strangely enough, in South America, it is Vargas Llosa's political novels that cause controversy; in North America, it is the sexual content. The cover of this little gem, Exposure of Luxury by Bronzino, was enough to make the censors want to go to work.

Anyone who loves wickedness, fun, wit or Vargas Llosa with fall in love with this book at the drop of a...stepmother.

This is a miraculous, intriguing, daring and unlikely book that compares with Lolita in theme and aftertaste. One is always cautious of the pitfalls of translations, but the sincere erotica of this short novel, combined with its anchoring art references and child-heart, elevates it in a way that you don't notice its foreign origins. Llosa is, of course, a masterful storyteller. He is also audacious, which may be be his lasting relevance. Here, the revelatory title tells but half the story: you have to take the journey with Fonchito to fully enjoy Llosa's sardonic take on the duplicity and ignorance of the human condition. A small classic!

The story of the erotic intrigue between a middle-aged woman, her husband, and her precocious stepson, "In Praise of the Stepmother" engages both the reader's carnal and intellectual mind.

Interspersed throughout the text are a series of full-color reproductions of works of graphic art--Francois Boucher's "Diana at the Bath," Titian's "Venus with Cupid and Music," and others. Vargas Llosa accompanies each of the reproductions with a fictional interpretation that serves as a counterpoint to the primary narrative of the stepmother and her household. This device allows the author to take his reader across time and space, from fantasy to horror as the erotic odyssey unfolds.

In both the main narrative and the shorter embedded fictions, Vargas Llosa both shocks and seduces the reader with his sensuous detail and psychological insights. "In Praise of the Stepmother" is a multi-media tour-de-force. A delight for lovers of erotica, classic visual art, and great literature, this book confirms in my mind Mario Vargas Llosa's stature as one of the world's great writers.

This is a wonderful book, by a great writer. The catch is that very often it will be misunderstood, and associated with the group of fantastic south american writers, like Garcia Marquez. Instead the story is basically for real (the story of the last years of Paraguay dictator Gaspar Francia, who ruled the country from 1813 to 1840), and most of the mentioned documents are authentic, or at least plausible. Roa Bastos has played on the borderline between history and fiction, but most readers will not know this, and take for fiction what are very important and interesting historical facts, that would deserve a different approach and attention. This is the only (but rather painful) fault I find in an otherwise beautiful work.

There are three great novels about the Latin American dictator and all of them are very different. Miguel Asturias' Mr. President deals with a backwater banana republic where the president for life's presence itself is minor. What occurs instead is the lethal working out of a hideously unjust system which crushes and destroys all who resist and those who are caught in its clutches. Then there is Gabriel Garcia Marquez's The Autumn of the Patriarch, an example of high modernism at its most brilliant. In sentences of increasingly serpentine length (in the end consisting of the final chapter of forty-five pages) Garcia Marquez deals with an aged dictator who has ruled for centuries and is capable of every iniquity (such as serving up a cabinet minister for his treacherous colleagues to eat) while living in a world of pretend power and real submission (he has to sell his country's sea to pay off the Americans). This book is also high modernist, but is very different. Instead of the fantastic elements of the Autumn of the Patriarch we have here the story of the founder of Paraguay, Dr. Francia. Dr. Francia consolidated his country's independence by creating a regime of isolation and absolute power. He expelled the Jesuits and set up his own Catholic Church so it would not be beholden to Rome. He was utterly ruthless and the result, according to E. Bradford Burns was an autarky that probably benefited the masses more in terms of literacy and nutrition than any other Latin American country of the time. Its fate, however, was to be crushed by the surrounding countries in the great war of 1870-73 where the male population was almost literally devastated.

No venal tinpot hack, Dr. Francia appears as a man of frightening sincerity, in an account that is of direct revelance to the fate of Castro's Cuba. I, the Supreme begins with a proclamation in which the dicators calls for the decapitation of his corpse and the lynching of all his ministers. It continues with tales of prisoners forced to live in boats travelling down the rivers of Paraguay without ever stopping. We read of Francia's dialogue with a sycophantic Vicar General ("How long did the trial of the infamous traitors to the Fatherland last? As long as it was necessary in order not to rush to judgement. They were granted every right to defend themselves. In the end every recourse was exhausted. It might be said that the case was never closed. It is still open. Not all the guilty parties were sentenced to death and executed."), who then goes on to condemn his priests for siring dozens and hundreds of illegitimate children. Like Lenin and indeed Stalin he rants against the jungle of bureaucracy that he himself has created, he outsmarts the greedy surrounding oligarchies who wish to absorb Paraguay, he reminds his civil servants not to express and exploit the Indian population. We read reports of how school children are indoctrinated to see their great leader ("The Supreme Government is very old. Older than the Lord God, that our schoolmaster...tells us about in a low voice.) The book is a masterpiece of polyphony, filled with many voices and viewpoints, combined with a richness of metaphor and incident and a complexity of moral vision that have few competitors this century. Writing for a country that has possessed only brief and shadowy vestiges of liberty, Roa Bastos deals with its pain in a way that should be required reading for all who care about democracy.

In what has to be a fictional note at the end of the book, the author claims that he is not such, indicating that he merely copied parts of historical documents, writings and tales, thus the real "author" of this book is history itself and not him, who he says is merely the "compiler." The work is indeed true to history; the history about José Gaspar Rodríguez de Francia, the controversial Dictator of Paraguay between 1814-1840 who used to sign his official decrees not with his name but the sentence that is the title of this book. This is a wonderfully complex book; not easy to read. Sometimes fascinating paragraphs are unexpectedly cut with some note form the "compiler" indicating that the rest is illegible because the page is partly burned, which lets you to think that it was indeed copied from an old document; while at other times you read fascinating dialogs and monologues which you would think had to be fictional; but it is not as simple: You cannot tell truth from fiction because the truth seems fictional and the fiction tells truth. Truth that comes to you in the form of insights about the state of mind of a dictator, about absolute power, and about the soul of a country that owns its independent existence to its first dictator's determination to be its supreme ruler. It is an utterly fascinating book.

"Selfishness and its faithful spouse, Stupidity, will be your gods. And they will be loved and respected as never a god was adored on earth."

These words introduce us to Marquis Fausto Rasero, the title character of this tour-de-force by Mexican author Francisco Rebolledo. They are Rasero's words, spoken for readers of the future.

When we meet Rasero in the 1740s, the 26-year-old Spanish noble is a quiet, contemplative man still coming to terms with a grotesque malady: every time he has sex, he sees visions of the future at the moment of orgasm. These visions are quite naturally terrifying: people cramming into metal tubes which travel underground, glass boxes within which small people move around while others watch and laugh... Above all, images of war: a giant metal bird dropping something out of the sky, after which thousands of Asians are incinerated in a blinding flash of light. Rasero is unsure how far into the future all this is happening; he only knows that the horrible visions of the year 1745 have been the worst of all.

In a move that speaks both of Madrid's stagnation and Paris' excellence at this point in history, the wealthy young noble leaves his native Málaga for a diplomatic post in Paris. He will spend his life there, making the acquaintance of the brightest minds of his time, men such as Diderot and Voltaire, Lavoisier and even Mozart, seeking to reconcile their beliefs with his secret knowledge. They are all working to bring about the Enlightenment they aspire to. Yet how can the Enlightenment these men hold so dear possibly be leading to the horrendous future Rasero witnesses in the arms of one lover after another?

This is an undervalued book that deserves to be more widely read. Its prose is thick and ornate, and you won't want to read this on an airplane full of tourists. Give it instead the time and silence it deserves. "Rasero" is not only an all-expenses-paid journey to the Paris of Louis XV, it is a thought-provoking examination of human nature using the borrowed voices of many great men, and some clever women as well. Some of its chapters, especially "Mariana" and "Robespierre" approach such perfection that they could have been developed into self-containing novels. In the end, Rasero - and Rebolledo - adopt a stance of uncompromising pessimism towards the future of humanity. Standing in Rasero's shoes, standing in Paris on an overcast day in 1794 watching as the Revolution devours its own children, including the enlightened young man he helped raise, you'll find his disgust is hard to argue with. This is a book that will keep you thinking about it long after you close it.

A delightful narrative and wonderful historical tour of the Enlightenment. Rebolledo has stormed in onto the Latinamerican literary scene and claimed his place next to the likes of Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Carlos Fuentes. Nicolas A. Vivas (nvivas@ix.netcom.com

If you are interested in the process of writing a book, and at the same time learn about the life in Spain during the 20th century this is your book.

This book contains three short-stories that are considered among the best of mexican 20th century literature. Remember Juan Rulfo's El llano en llamas, Inés Arredondo's Underground river -río subterraneo- (she's of García Ponce's generation), Juan José Arreola, et al. El gato is the first story and, in my taste, the best. Maybe that's because i live in a building like the one described there (one of the author's best achievements is description). The plot involves a woman, a cat, and a man. That's all i can say about it but you should know there's much more to it. La plaza is a short piece on melancholy for a city remembered; a place one knew in youth and comes back a mature man. La gaviota is a beautiful piece on teenage love, Octavio Paz said that it was the first time in mexican literature that someone wrote about the subject with great quality. This is a great introduction to the mature García Ponce.

I read this book recently upon the death of Octavio Paz. The mans mind was incredible and he was able to elucidate on such disparate themes as philosophy,religion and history. What is incredible is that he manages to tie these diverse subjects into a major topic, Mexican Art. The European influences on the major Mexican artists is indelible and Paz shows how one cannot exist without it's predecessor. He takes shots at such Mexican icons as Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo for their seemingly contradictory views. This book is not easy reading and requires a base of knowledge prior to reading. One area of interest is his first person accounts with famous people. Paz does not pull any punches and is a straight shooter. The insights he provides here are excellent. The expressions he provides are eloquent and given with great detail. A trully brilliant thinker that offers his thoughts for all to share and enjoy. This book makes you question your knowledge and makes you take the leap into a new understanding of what you thought you knew. Like all provacative writers who influence, you come out the better, as a result of his insights.

THE EVENT is a first-rate ironic, even sarcastic treatment of the meeting of the two Argentinas in the second half of the 19th century, the "transparent" Argentina of the oligarchs and the "opaque" modern nation made up of European immigrants, such as the protagonist of Saer's novel. The book is a rare rendition of historical misunderstanding by one of the great Latin American narrators of our time, one who remains to be discovered in the English-speaking world

As a Uruguayan reader and book-lover, I take offense at an editorial review by the Library Journal which, in spite of its literary name, doesn't seem to have bothered to check the accuracy of the information it gives about books' authors. F.Y.I., Juan Carlos Onetti was not Argentinian. He was Uruguayan, and ranks with his countrymen, the literary geniuses Horacio Quiroga, Eduardo Galeano and Felisberto Hernández, in originality and quality of craftmanship. I can only say how sorry I am to see erroneous information happily published online, to the confusion and misguiding of readers.

First published in 1980, Makbara demonstrates a radical use of linguistic and structural experimentation. Now that Goytisolo has loosened his ties to his mother country (since completing the Mendiola trilogy), his search for his "authentic self" is challenged by the indomitable formalizations of the spoken language. The pleasure of reading Makbara comes from a reading which does not depend on such linguistic verbal formalities, and deciding whether other forms of communication are possible. This novel is intricate and challenging on all levels in accord with Goytisolo's intent that his writing is not for everyone to read.

The War of the End of the World is an impossibly ambitious book which nevertheless succeeds completely, and in the process confirms that Vargas Llosa deserves to be considered among the great authors of all time. Unlike his other books, which are either frankly autobiographical or significantly based on the author's personal experience, this is a straightforward historical novel, taking place in 1890s northeastern Brazil. It is also a real novel of ideas, confronting very seriously such timeless topics as the relationship of individual to society and of faith and personal belief to law and social order, the source of state authority, and truth/beauty and means/ends issues. While somewhat "modern" in style - the narrative does not proceed in a linear fashion, perspectives shift sharply from one character to the next, and "truth" is often in the eye of the beholder - the book really aspires to be a Great Historical Novel in a classic mode, like The Red and the Black or War and Peace. (Personally, I think it is stronger than either of those; at the very least it belongs on the same shelf.) In other words, it is no post-modern mirror-job, but a serious attempt to engage all thoughtful people - including those who ordinarily do not care for fiction - in a subtle and thorough consideration of the factors that create Peru's Shining Path, or Waco, Jonestown, MOVE, Hamas, etc. Vargas Llosa even manages the trick of being both sympathetic to and critical of all sides. The relationship of the book to the author's subsequent (aborted) political career is also fascinating - it is difficult to believe that an author whose extradinarily acute, and depressing, analyses of politics and ideology would be willing to enter the actual world of politics, yet it is easy to see how he yearns for a real-world solution to the failures of the rich to understand the poor, of the poor to understand the rich, and of organized government to appreciate the value of people's actual lives. I recommend this book to everyone (except perhaps readers who cannot handle some extreme and sustained violence in the last part of the book).

I read several of Mario Vargas Llosa smaller (but also superb) works before deciding to attempt to read this one, his masterpiece. It is truly one of the more memorable and profound books that I have read. The structure of the book doesn't divert too much from that of the typical epic novel- dozens of characters, numerous subplots, and events of historical significance. Most of the action takes place in the remote, arid backlands of northwestern Brazil. In this land devastated by drought and poverty, a religious leader known as the Counselor manages to recruit a sizable number of miserable and scorned creatures to be his disciples. We are introduced to such characters as the Little Blessed One, the Lion of Natuba, the Mother of Men, Satan Jao, and a host of others who are social outcasts for one reason or another. It is around this time that the monarchy in overthrown and a republic established; taxes are now to be collected, a national census is to adminstered, and church and state are to be separated. The Counselor and his followers regard these new developments as a direct threat and signs of the impending apocalypse, and they set up their own town, Canudos. The newly formed state can obviously not tolerate these renegades, and the book basically relates the war between Canudos and the waves of military forces that are sent to annihilate them. Vargas Llosa spares no details when relating battle scenes; the reviewer on the inside cover of the book was right in calling this one of the bloodiest books of the century. We are presented with images of corpses hanging from trees, ants devouring the open wounds of soldiers, and decapitated heads on stakes. It is perhaps this gritty realism that makes this book so memorable, though. Another aspect of the author's writing that makes this book so convincing is his ability to sympathetically portray all of the competing interests. Although it is probably fair to say that the Counselor's followers are depticted mainly as victims, Llosa also argues from the point of view of the military, the aristocracy, the republican government, a nearsighted journalist travelling with the army, and even a Scottish anarchist. At the end of this book, one is quite uncertain who, if anyone, is on the right side and who is on the wrong side. But I think it is this moral ambiguity that Vargas Llosa is attempting to create in our minds. In presenting this true historical event in the form of an epic novel, Vargas Llosa has given us a masterful tale of devotion, despair, misery, and personal redemption.

The reviewer who described this book as the best 19th Century novel written in the 20th Century comes pretty close to hitting the nail squarely on the head. This is a very great work, by the far the best novel written in the last 50 years. It contains a plenitude of drama, scores of fascinating characters, and it is thankfully free from the defects afflicting most Latin American fiction. No left-wing fustian, no "magic realism" here! (Thank God for that!) I'm also pleased that Llosa dispensed with his penchant for literary modernism in this work. Unlike the (admittedly) brilliant "Conversations in a Cathedral," "The War of the End of the World" is not a difficult read. Llosa must have realized that here was a story that had to be communicated, and he does a brilliant job of bringing the tragic tale of Canudos to vivid life. Highly recommended.