Modern Mexican History: The Underdogs

The Underdogs: Seeing the Forest Through the Trees

Mariano Azuela is credited with revolutionizing Mexican culture and identity after 1916, since the publication of his most famous and popular book, Los de Abajo. An incendiary author, he is credited with being an artist, an independent thinker, and one of the first authors to start addressing the inherent Indianness of the Mexican people involved in the revolution (pg. 107). The identities that the everyday Mexican person had been forced to relinquish in shame, Azuela began to embrace (pg. 119 and Appendix). He is also compared quite frequently to another artist (an iconic photographer), José Clemente Orozco, throughout the Appendix and Related Texts for having contributed so many vivid and evocative compositions of the Mexican Revolution.

In this essay, I will first summarize the English translation, The Underdogs (translated by Gustavo Pellón), then move onto some similarites, and then differences. I will eventually get to one of my main points, a conclusion I’ve come to agree with on my own about Azuela’s own secret presence in his fictional novel inspired by his real history and his country’s. In this great, vividly descriptive novel, Azuela provides some real, broad context on the Mexican Revolution through a relatively small but accurate account of a fictional journey, as well as the injection of his own character into the story’s journey (a character whose end is almost a chance for Azuela to live vicariously on in the story as a different man).

PART ONE

Gustavo Pellón’s prided translation of the moment Demetrio ’s wife’s reaction to the lethal shot fired at her dog brings us into the tone of the story immediately. The Federales had come in search of Macías, an infamous leader of one of Villa’s small troops, when all they found was his wife and her dog. After the Federales were chased aay by Demetrio, emerging shortly after they began to harass his wife, his house was burnt to the ground. This was prompted by a local cacique, Don Mónico, and fueled Demetrio’s goal of seeing the Revolution of Mexico through to the end, under Pancho Villa.

After leaving his wife, Macías travels into battle with the Federales, and upon being wounded, takes refuge in a small village that would hold great importance in regard to the rest of his journey. There an intruder stumbles upon them in the night, in search of Demetrio, the leader. Luis Cervantes, a young medical student and journalist, is at first threatened with death and questioned about wanting to join up Villa and therefore, Demtrio’s cause. Eventually, they not only let him treat Demtrio’s wounds, but he goes from being nearly executed to becoming Demetrio’s closest confidant and aide for the remainder of the Revolution.

After leaving the village some time later, they encounter another, larger town, and fight a large battle against several hundred Federales, supposedly winning by shear talent. They began to travel their geographical circle around Moyahua, Juchipila, Tepic, Durango, Tepatitlán, Cuquío, Lagos de Moreno, and Aguascalientes (page 93) as well as a smaller circle, ending up back where they started. The welcome was not as enthusiastic as the support they had upon starting out. Along their journey, the men (and some women in the troop) become more and more savage, violent, and some greedy. More and more casualties begin to occur for petty reasons, and eventually the “Underdogs” are on top – rich and not at all part of the society they once sought to defend from suffering.

In the end, Demetrio if left in battle while all but Cervantes (of the main characters) are lost, and the Revolution is neither here nor there.

PART TWO

The first similarity between the fictional of Demetrio Macías’ and the true accounts of the Villistas in the appendix was the brutality and ruthlessness that the troops exhibited when traveling from town to town. Although the fictional account, as well as the true accounts, describe loyalty that townspeople feel toward the Villistas and Zapatistas, such as the people of Limón on page 3 of the novel, I feel that as soon as the power shifts into the hands of the rebels and away from the very tyrants they were so determined to eliminate (the Federales under Huerta), the Villistas become just as brutal – taking what they want, from whomever they decide on a moment’s notice, killing any man or woman that upsets them even mildly. It’s not outlined exactly in the appendix how extreme the Villistas actually were – but I concluded that the looting, killing, and infamy they accrued throughout their journey was generally realistic. Azuela mentions animals quite frequently throughout the book in ways that are interpreted by many as metaphor for the bestial brutality of Villa’s men. This is analyzed in detail in the appendix on pages 107-109. I refer to the cockfight, the man with the goat’s foot, and Demetrio’s dead dog – killed by the Federales.

The most interesting similarity I found mentioned on page 106 of the appendix – class speech patterns – is best illustrated in the book on Page 32 when Demetrio and his group arrive on the edge of the town near the jacales where Camila and María Antonia nursed him back to health, they asked a poor barefoot man where the Federales’ barracks were. The man’s response was, “The barracks are a tiny bit beyond the plaza master” followed by – when prompted to divulge the Federales’ numbers –

“Master, I don’t want to lie to your excellency, but truth is, the pure truth is, there’s a whole mess of them.”

And it’s speech like that that carries over from the fictional account to the analysis in the appendix.

The final similarity I would like to mention is that of the somewhat futile efforts of the Aguascalientes convention that was mentioned both in the end of the novel and the true accounts in the back. On Page 92 we learn that in reality, the Aguascalientes convention (which was not described in great detail in the novel) only worsened the divisions between the Constitutionalists (Villa and Zapata against Obrégon and Carranza), suggesting that the bloody revolution had been futile, and in the novel Demetrio was left symbolically defending Villa and his personal cause (even though he was ignorant to the true cause) after all his friends had been lost in battle next to him. That last symbolical bit is the only slight difference, purely because it is after all, fictional.

Though the book quite accurately portrays the good and the bad aspects of Villa’s revolutionary journeymen, but there are many discrepancies between the novel and the true accounts and reviews in the back of the book. One is related again to speech patterns: the obvious omission of profanity. For some reason, Azuela completely omits all profanity (nearly) and even before reading the appendix, it was quite distracting. This is mentioned on page 106 also, and many examples are given.

Another great discrepancy is the legendary battle tactics displayed in the novel time and time again – even in something like a bar fight – that Demetrio and his men were so effortlessly capable of. However, it is explained clearly in the appendix on page 97 that most of Demetrio Macías’ people are only supplied with weapons from the “enemy dead.” They literally have to take turns using weapons in the novel, but somehow they’re still able to win many a battle against formidable numbers of Huerta’s advanced artillery. This was unlikely, and definitely untrue when it came to the battle of Celaya – Villa lost. However, it is comparable to the overly emphasized legend of Pancho Villa himself – and after all, he was only a man.

Most importantly, the book communicated something very poignantly to me about Azuela. When I read about his own background as a doctor in the back of the book, and his short stint with Villa under Julián Medina – even though there is a remark on page 110 about how Cervantes is not a mirror of Azuela’s own personality, I believe there is more to that observation that the author in the appendix claims. I believe that the comments made by Azuela in response to being questioned on his stance in the Revolution about “wishing he could see the forest through the trees,” but instead seeing the trees (meaning he didn’t see any personal benefit in the end of the Revolution). I believe the similarities begin with Luís Cervantes as a doctor, and staying with the revolution, as opposed to leaving it (even though he was just as disturbed by it as Azuela was), signified the diversion of their paths – when Cervantes chose the forest, Azuela felt he was stuck seeing the trees when he retreated up to El Paso, Texas to finish his book. Cervantes also went to El Paso but gained personal benefits – finishing medical school, enjoying the good life so to speak, and even inviting Venancio to start a business venture with him. It’s almost sad to entertain this possibility of his regrets or wishes – but again, this is all speculation in defiance of the Appendix.

In conclusion, Mariano Azuela gave the public a uniquely objective piece of literary historical fiction, which is often hard to find in the recent aftermath of such a controversial national struggle. His writing has never been out of print for obvious reasons – it is almost as legendary as Pancho Villa himself.