Notes on Point of View in Carpentier's El reino de este mundo; or, a Meditation on Narrative "Becoming"

Derek Frost

University of Connecticut

 

When Ti Noel returns to inhabit the old plantation of Lenormand de Mezy in Alejo Carpentier's El reino de este mundo, creating his personal kingdom among the weeds and ruins, fragments of the estate's former life occasionally surface and take shape: the blue tiles of the dining room floor, pieces of the foundation, a windowsill, and even part of a wall materialize from the oblivion of overgrowth and rubble. The emergence of these forms replicates, on a small scale, the phenomenon of becoming that recurs throughout the narrative.

In a broad sense, of course, "lo real" becomes "lo maravilloso" as human beings become animals, slaves become masters, and a monarch becomes part of his fortress. The process of becoming also occurs at a structural level, however, as the narrative itself gradually unfolds to reveal the truth of phenomena that first appear vague and puzzling. This emergence of events and images from initial formlessness, which parallels the evolving shape of history tracked by the novel and described by Alegría as possessing the attributes of "un frenesí de pesadillesco movimiento" (50), is most dramatically evident in the following episodes, as will be explored in detail below: (1) the slaves' campaign of poison and Mackandal's subsequent execution; (2) "el pacto mayor" and the uprising of the slaves; and (3) Ti Noel's return to Haiti and the events surrounding the murder of Cornejo Breille.

From Mackandal's sudden obsession with herbs to his appearance in the cavern, it is apparent that something is gathering momentum, but explanations are withheld by the selectively omniscient narrator. Only select portions of Mackandal's point of view are revealed: his "raro interés" in certain plants, his surprise at the "vida secreta de especies singulares," his particular interest in mushrooms (28). The reasons for his fascination with the flora, however, are concealed.

When the point of view shifts to that of Ti Noel, the reader can only share the latter's uncomprehending "asombro" at Mamán Loi's resistance to the boiling oil (29); the additional shift in perspective to that of the slave owners as they react to Mackandal's escape further distances the reader from the conspiracy that is being hatched. Finally, Ti Noel's meeting with Mackandal in the cavern, although narrated in third person from Ti Noel's perspective, sheds little light on what is afoot. In spite of the fact that "Ti Noel se enteró ese día de lo que el manco esperaba de él," no explanation is given to the reader (33).

Although the origin of the spreading poison might be inferred from the sequence of events, the narrative in Chapter 5 obscures it in an atmosphere of mystery and alarm as the point of view shifts to that of the slave owners:

No se sabía cómo avanzaba entre las gramas y alfalfas, cómo se introducía en las pacas de forraje, cómo se subía a los pesebres. . . . Los más expertos herbolarios del Cabo buscaban en vano la hoja, la resina, la savia, posibles portadoras del azote. . . .

Pronto se supo, con espanto, que el veneno había entrado en las casas. (33)

Now it is the colonists who must make sense of the unfolding phenomenon, attempting to decipher it as it materializes in their midst.

One of the slaves finally informs the authorities that Mackandal is responsible; after four years of metamorphosing into animal forms, he is captured. As at the start of the campaign of poison, the narrator withholds information when the day of Mackandal's execution arrives. Although the reader can guess at what is being prepared, there is initially no direct explanation for the gathering in the Plaza Mayor of la Ciudad del Cabo; the description focuses instead on the atmosphere of spectacle:

Como de palco a palco de un vasto teatro conversaban a gritos las damas de abanicos y mitones, con las voces deliciosamente alteradas por la emoción. Aquellos cuyas ventanas daban sobre la plaza, habían hecho preparar refrescos de limón y de horchata para sus invitados. Abajo, cada vez más apretados y sudorosos, los negros esperaban un espectáculo que había sido organizado para ellos; una función de gala para negros, a cuya pompa se habían sacrificado todos los créditos necesarios. (41)

The true nature of the event becomes apparent, however, with Mackandal's entrance, and the festive air described above grows sinister:

De pronto, todos los abanicos se cerraron a un tiempo. . . . Con la cintura ceñida por un calzón rayado, cubierto de cuerdas y de nudos, lustroso de lastimaduras frescas, Mackandal avanzaba hacia el centro de la plaza. (41)

His burning at the stake is described in vivid detail, all the more horrifying for the innocuousness of the scene with which the chapter opens.

The uprising of the slaves also materializes gradually from the narrative. The purpose of the meeting that seals "el pacto mayor," for example, is revealed in increments that slowly come into focus through the forest rain. It is even unclear at first whether the "dotaciones de la Llanura del Norte" (50) are slaves or slave owners, for Ti Noel's presence is not established until the third sentence. The subsequent reference to precautions against spies hints at the reason for the gathering, which is eventually revealed:

Bouckman dejó caer la lluvia sobre los árboles durante algunos segundos, como para esperar un rayo que se abrió sobre el mar. Entonces, cuando hubo pasado el retumbo, declaró que un Pacto se había sellado entre los iniciados de acá y los grandes Loas del África, para que la guerra se iniciara bajo los signos propicios. (51)

Echoing the delay of the narrative itself, Bouckman pauses before disclosing the final aim of the meeting, which is appropriately heralded by a bolt of lightning.

The start of the uprising is also presented in such a way that the reader at first cannot be sure of what is happening. The "llamada de los caracoles" that signals the beginning of the rebellion is presented from the perspective of Lenormand de Mezy, who initially does not understand its significance:

Muy lejos, había sonado una trompa de caracol. Lo que resultaba sorprendente, ahora, era que al lento mugido de esa concha respondían otros en los montes y en las selvas. . . . Era como si todas las porcelanas de la costa, todos los lambíes indios, todos los abrojines que servían para sujetar las puertas, todos los caracoles que yacían, solitarios y petrificados, en el tope de los Moles, se hubieran puesto a cantar en coro. . . . Monsieur Lenormand de Mezy, alarmado, se ocultó detrás de un macizo de bugambilias. (54)

Shifting to an omniscient point of view, the narrative then follows the opening minutes of the uprising as the slaves burst from their quarters and attack the main house.

Since Ti Noel's return home in Part III is narrated from his point of view (although in third person), the full picture of what Haiti has become during his absence only gradually emerges as he makes sense of it. He appears unable, however, to correctly interpret a number of ominous signs which, in retrospect, seem to allude to the horror of the Christophe regime. Instead, "Ti Noel cayó de rodillas y dio gracias al cielo por haberle concedido el júbilo de regresar a la tierra de los Grandes Pactos" (76).

Later, perplexed and fascinated by a group of black cavalrymen dressed in Napoleonic uniforms, he follows them, failing to see any danger. This prodigal son's perception of Haiti is as dazzled as his view of Sans-Souci, "el espectáculo más inesperado, más imponente que hubiera visto en su larga existencia" (78-79). The beauty of Christophe's pink palace is revealed to the reader with the approach of Ti Noel, who absorbs all the details and is most affected by "el descubrimiento de que ese mundo prodigioso . . . era un mundo de negros" (79).

Like Ti Noel, the reader must construct a partial picture of post-independence Haiti from the limited information that trickles forth from the narrative. When the protagonist is greeted with the "tremendo palo en el lomo," it is apparent that he has misread the signs of change in his native land (80). Only after being conscripted to work on la Ciudadela La Ferrière does he understand the full nature of Christophe's tyranny:

Pronto supo Ti Noel que esto duraba ya desde hacía más de doce años y que toda la población del Norte había sido movilizada por la fuerza para trabajar en aquella obra inverosímil. Todos los intentos de protesta habían sido acallados en sangre. (83)

The complete picture of events has again emerged from the narrative only gradually. The information is administered in doses, culminating finally in a broad perspective that shows Christophe surveying his dominion from the summit of La Ferrière, "sin nada que pudiera hacer sombra ni pesar sobre él, más arriba de todo, erguido sobre su propia sombra" (84).

The murder and reappearance of Cornejo Breille are perhaps the most vivid examples of the tendency for images and events to emerge from the narrative like figures from a mist. The limited-omniscient narration allows the reader to share Ti Noel's slowly dawning awareness of Breille's fate. First, an atmosphere of foreboding is created as the façades of buildings twist like faces in the direction of the Archbishop's residence. Suddenly, cries are audible from a hole in the corner of the residence: "De aquel agujero, negro como una boca desdentada, brotaban de súbito unos alaridos tan terribles que estremecían toda la población, haciendo sollozar los niños en las casas" (87). The course of the howling lamentations is described in great detail without any explicit reference to the cause until it is finally revealed that:

aquel capuchino que estaba emparedado en el edificio del Arzobispado, sepultado en vida dentro de su oratorio, era Cornejo Breille, duque del Anse, confesor de Henri Christophe. Había sido condenado a morir ahí, al pie de una pared recién repellada, por el delito de quererse marchar a Francia. . . . (87)

Additional background information, including the attitude of Christophe's wife and the arrival of "un nuevo favorito: un capellán español," is provided by a shift to an omniscient point of view (88). The narrative has progressed from intimations of the atrocity to a full account of how it came to pass.

The emergence of Breille's ghost from the shadows of the church is one of the most literal images of "becoming"; the narrative presentation is gradual, focusing first on the reactions of the characters and then on the vision itself:

De pronto, Juan de Dios González comenzó a retroceder hacia las butacas reales, resbalando torpemente sobre los tres peldaños de mármol. La reina dejó caer el rosario. El rey llevó la mano a la empuñadura de la espada. Frente al altar, de cara a los fieles, otro sacerdote se había erguido, como nacido del aire, con pedazos de hombros y de brazos aún mal corporizados. Mientras el semblante iba adquiriendo firmeza y expresión, de su boca sin labios, sin dientes, negra como agujero de gatera , surgía una voz tremebunda. . . . (90, emphasis added)

After the specter takes shape, literally out of thin air, its identity is revealed: "[E]ra el arzobispo emparedado, de cuya muerte y podredumbre sabían todos, quien estaba ahí" (90).

In the manner of the other episodes described above, it is at first unclear exactly what is happening. As the image crystallizes, the narrative enacts the process of becoming, of unfolding, of taking shape, as if to underscore the point that the history and myth which lie at the center of the novel are a continual coming into being. One epoch begets another, while "hechos históricos . . . se tornan leyendas en la imaginación del pueblo y actúan, luego, como mitos desde una subconsciencia colectiva" (Alegría 48).

One of the novel's most striking images is the juxtaposition noted by Ti Noel of the wig-adorned wax heads with the heads of calves in the shop window. There is a charged quality to this image, a dynamic relationship between the two sets of heads, which seems to suggest, in spatial terms, the phenomenon of becoming that is so essential to the narrative.

 

Works Cited

Alegría, Fernando. "Alejo Carpentier: Realismo Mágico." Homenaje a Alejo Carpentier: Variaciones interpretativas en torno a su obra. Ed. Helmy F. Giacoman. New York: Las Américas Publishing Company, 1970. 33-69.

Carpentier, Alejo. El reino de este mundo. 1949. Mexico City: Siglo Veintiuno, 1989. Vol 2 of Obras completas de Alejo Carpentier. 12 vols.