Corruption and the natural world in ‘A Carnival of Atrocities’
By hola | Published | No Comments
Stripped of her family, home and identity by the supposedly pious people of Cocuán, all that is left for Mildred is her hatred. In her rage, she curses the crumbling Ecuadorian town, and even years after her death, her curse lingers in the wind and surrounding forest where she was raised. Though the townspeople might pretend Mildred’s persecution never took place, they are forced to confront the past when a mass of residents walk naked out of their homes and disappear into the forest. Moving between narrators as they search the forest for the missing locals and begin to experience violent hallucinations, “A Carnival of Atrocities,” by Natalia García Freire, invites readers to explore collective consciousness, religion and the natural world.
Spanning just over 150 pages, the story splits itself between the perspectives of nine people, ranging from the homicidal child Ezequiel to the teenage, hopeless romantic Carmen to the predatory moneylender Baltasar. Most don’t know each other well, so what ties them together are the sins they have spent their lives keeping hidden and the moments of Mildred’s curse they witness or experience firsthand.
The story starts in the past. Mildred is a young girl on the day her mother passes away and her father abandons her. Grief weighs down her every word as she isolates herself at home with her pigs, only ever stepping out when Father Santamaría attempts to take her to live in the monastery in Cocuán. With each of his increasingly extreme attempts, Mildred is reminded of all the reasons her mother rejected Cocuán and its people, and her grief morphs into rage.
One of the story’s greatest strengths lies in the unique characteristics of each perspective. Mildred grew up with her mother likening her to a strong wind, and her emotions are consistently tied to the element. When Mildred is angered, the wind becomes fierce, growing to match her urge to punish the people of Cocuán. That same defining wind becomes the corporeal embodiment of Mildred’s curse and identity, haunting both the narrative and each unsuspecting narrator. As the wind passes over a narrator, a primal terror consumes them. They become increasingly erratic and aggressive towards their fellow townspeople, devolving into soulless beasts void of humanity. Kudos must be given to García Freire and her translator Victor Meadowcroft for maintaining each character’s distinct voice while critiquing the collective consciousness formed under a governing religion.
(photo by María García Freire)
The wind is not the only natural element that acts as a character. The forest is the main setting and, arguably, the main antagonist of the story, serving as the direct opposing force of what Cocuán represents. While Cocuán is a desolate, artificial construction that houses people with immoral secrets, the forest is ancient and unchanging — the mysterious unknown — filled with animals that do not possess the morality that sways humanity between sin and righteousness. For the people of Cocuán, the forest is everything they’ve been taught to reject, a hell in the eyes of the formal church.
García Freire is scathing in her critique of religion. Catholicism mixes with indigenous customs in Cocuán, no matter how much the church tries to filter it out, so Mildred’s existence as the only non-Catholic becomes a threat that must be handled. Corruption is seen primarily through Father Santamaría: his image as a concerned, devout man immediately vanishes upon revealing the physical and sexual abuse he inflicted upon Mildred for refusing to convert to Catholicism. The cruelest part is that, like Mildred, Father Santamaría does not believe in Catholicism; he sees it as a tool to manipulate and control the susceptible, “savage” townspeople. If Catholicism invaded Cocuán to replace indigenous beliefs, Mildred’s curse served to do the opposite: purge Catholicism from her homeland.
Entrancing in its imagery and themes, “A Carnival of Atrocities” promises exactly what its title evokes: a nightmarish journey into the depravity of the human soul.
— Written by Michelle Benitez
— Copy edited by Kami Waller
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