Book contents
- Frontmatter
- Content
- List of Illustrations
- Acknowledgements
- A note on translations
- Introduction: Colombia's forgotten frontier
- 1 Geographies of violence: war reporting, 1990–2012
- 2 Green mansions to green hell: travel writing, 1874–1907
- 3 No-man's land: testimonial literature of the rubber boom
- 4 ‘Exotic strangers’: the native body in text and image, 1911 and 1969
- 5 Frontier fictions: La novela de la selva, 1924 and 1933
- 6 The front line: war writing, 1933
- 7 ‘Fragments of things’: the aesthetics of yagé
- 8 Oil and blood: pulp fiction of the twenty-first century
- Bibliography
- Index
3 - No-man's land: testimonial literature of the rubber boom
- Frontmatter
- Content
- List of Illustrations
- Acknowledgements
- A note on translations
- Introduction: Colombia's forgotten frontier
- 1 Geographies of violence: war reporting, 1990–2012
- 2 Green mansions to green hell: travel writing, 1874–1907
- 3 No-man's land: testimonial literature of the rubber boom
- 4 ‘Exotic strangers’: the native body in text and image, 1911 and 1969
- 5 Frontier fictions: La novela de la selva, 1924 and 1933
- 6 The front line: war writing, 1933
- 7 ‘Fragments of things’: the aesthetics of yagé
- 8 Oil and blood: pulp fiction of the twenty-first century
- Bibliography
- Index
Summary
‘[M]uchas noches, me echo a llorar por lo que he visto en el día.’
José, a campesino from the Putumayo (2000)Introduction
And under a native hut in Peru, in the forests between the rivers Caraparana and Igaraparana, an Indian was dying. He hoped he would die quickly, because the pain was unbearable. ‘Sirete,’ he moaned softly as his life flowed out, ‘Sirete! I have pains!’ […] That morning they had come. They had tied him to a tree, wrapped paraffin–soaked rags round his legs, and made a fire of dry leaves under his feet, burning them into charred, black stumps. They had beaten him with the butts of their Winchesters between his legs until only a bloody pulp was left where his manhood had been; blood still trickled thinly from it, and a solid clump of big blue flies and red ants were feeding themselves on the coagulating clots. […] The Indian was dying, and while he was dying he remembered. He remembered.
This passage is from ‘Death of an Indian’, the final story in Part one of The Weeping Wood, published in English in 1943 by the German Jewish émigré writer Vicki Baum. An author of international acclaim, particularly for her best–selling Menschen im Hotel – translated into English as Grand Hotel in 1930 and made into the Hollywood classic starring Greta Garbo just two years later – Baum had fled to the USA from Germany in 1932 where she continued her literary career in English. Although Baum, a prolific writer, once mockingly described herself as ‘a first–rate second–rate author’, in the introduction to The Weeping Wood she attempts to re–establish her intellectual credentials. Quoting Thomas Mann (who had once presided over a literary competition won by Baum), she reflects on her book's style and form and, in particular, its generic instability. The Weeping Wood, Baum explains, is a ‘panoramic novel’ with rubber as its protagonist, containing ‘as much fact as it contains play and make–believe; […] the happenings in this book take place on two different planes – the one factual, the other fictitious’ (p. vii).
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- Colombia's Forgotten FrontierA Literary Geography of the Putumayo, pp. 74 - 101Publisher: Liverpool University PressPrint publication year: 2013