La hora del silencio by Cristina Feijóo

Abstract

Reviewed by: La hora del silencio by Cristina Feijóo Janis Be Cristina Feijóo. La hora del silencio. Buenos Aires: Astier Libros, 2022. 208 p. Cristina Feijóo's most recent novel, La hora del silencio, is as intricate, oneiric, and haunting as the classic work to which it openly pays homage, Juan Rulfo's Pedro Páramo. The gendered retelling—set within the claustrophobic confines of Villa Devoto, a women's prison with striking parallels to Comala—takes place during Argentina's last military dictatorship. The protagonist, Leonora, is a political prisoner who embarks on a journey of self-discovery not unlike her literary predecessor, Juan Preciado. In so doing, Leonora reveals cunning survival strategies to combat the harsh conditions of political imprisonment even as she unveils myriad complexities of the leftist movement from an intensely personal perspective. Narrated primarily in first person and in present tense through the protagonist's prison diary, La hora del silencio is simultaneously intimate and immersive. What's more, the protagonist's persistent efforts to "put [her]self together" (50) mirror the active role required of readers who must similarly work to integrate the novel's disparate narrative fragments. Leonora consciously and overtly channels Damiana Cisneros in order to access her own (back)story, understand her identity, find a sense of purpose and belonging, and ultimately accept her fate. As she confides in her journal, "La vieja Damiana era sabia y con ella hicimos [End Page 327] un pacto: yo contaría mi historia usando su voz y ella contaría historias entramadas con la mía" (11). The graceful ease with which Leonora performs this and other literary assimilations and ventriloquisms becomes plausible given Feijóo's lyrical prose and linguistic agility. The storyline, which incorporates multiple voices and perspectives in addition to distinct registers, unfolds in overlapping loops. Proliferating embedded tales and secondary characters simultaneously echo and shed light upon the protagonist's plight. The result is a highly stylized, complex narrative that can be likened to a tapestry or mosaic. As the novel advances, carefully building to a dramatic conclusion, the protagonist achieves greater self-understanding and eventually finds her own voice. Readers gradually draw closer to Leonora herself, increasingly privy to the internal workings of her conniving mind. As the above might suggest, La hora del silencio defies simple generic classification. Like Rulfo, Feijóo situates her novel beyond the realm of traditional or linear time for "el tiempo es un perro que se muerde la cola" (66) while simultaneously exploring liminal spaces and interior states. Boundaries such as those that delineate consciousness and dreams, the corporeal and the ethereal, life and death remain porous. At times characters inhabit "sueños vivos" (64), which can include meeting fictional characters from other literary works, having out-of-body experiences, fusing or melding with each other, and struggling to distinguish between what is inside or outside of the prison walls or even one's physical body. In short, the masterful work questions the very nature of reality and sanity, while exhibiting traits of both the fantastic and magical realism. At the same time, La hora del silencio represents historical fiction at its finest. Not coincidentally, the cover art showcases a photograph by Daniel Berbedés from the Parque de la memoria—a commemorative public space honoring the victims of state terrorism and dedicated to "remembrance, homage, testimony and reflection." To this end, the novel offers detailed portrayals of the day-to-day hardships that political prisoners endured for years: from strict food rations to cruel punishments, from traumatic searches and seizures to the torments of solitary confinement. A particularly harrowing episode recalls the Masacre del Pabellón 7 when on March 14, 1978 over sixty prisoners died due to police repression and the brutality of prison personnel, specifically from fires, smoke inhalation, being beaten, or from gunshot [End Page 328] wounds. Feijóo artfully conveys the chaos, fear, and uncertainty by dramatically yet realistically narrating the unfolding scene through auditory rather than visual witnessing, given the need to take cover as well as direct orders to stay away from the windows or be shot. Another traumatic event features the political...