Book Review: Under the Volcano, by Malcolm Lowry
Living in Quauhnahuac, Mexico as a drunkard, Geoffry Fermin, former British consul, is surprised by the sudden arrival of his estranged wife, Yvonne, on the Day of the Dead. She’s come back to him in the hope of pulling him back to her, of freeing him from that which has him trapped in a daze of liquor, of whisking him off, taking him away from Mexico to some other place, any other place, where they might once again be together and happy. But things are complicated with the inclusion of Hugh, the consuls’ brother, and Jacques, the consul’s old friend, both of whom who are equally wrapped up in an emotional tangle with Yvonne and Geoffry.
Under the Mountain is a richly textured novel. Mexico is made both beautiful and terrifying in the way the author slips from the streaming consciousness of one character to another. Each character is a little lost and each is trying desperately to hang on to some home they are sure they’ve lost. They keep telling themselves, if only, if only, if only. Yet, the fact that they cannot speak so openly with each other, and if they do speak, it becomes lost in the chaos of the day and forgotten, means that their chance for hope is fleeting.
Yvonne is both straightforward and subtle, trying to open up forgiveness to Geoffry, trying to make him see that she loves him, that she will not abandon him again, that she will not become a shrew intent on restraining him. Meanwhile Geoffry, who has hoped so long for her return, seems trapped in a spiral of despair. It’s like he’s stuck on a carousel, and he can see her waiting, but it just keeps going around and around and he is too terrified to simply jump off.
The writing in this book is deeply beautiful and it carried me through to the end, though I must admit that in terms of pure story standpoint, I was deeply disappointed by the ending, having been brought around to love all of these characters so much, I had hoped for more.