Description
In 1958, Carlos Monge McKey sneaks out of his home in the middle of the night to fake his own death. He does not return for four years. A decade later, his son, Carlos Monge Sanchez, deserts his family too, joining a guerrilla army of Mexican revolutionaries. Their stories are unspooled by grandson and son Emiliano, a writer, who also chooses to escape reality, by creating fictions to run away from the truth. What Goes Unsaid is an extraordinary memoir that delves into the fractured relationships between fathers and sons, grandfathers and grandsons; that disinters the ugly notions of masculinity and machismo that all men carry with them - especially in a patriarchal culture like Mexico. It is the story of three men, who - each in his own way - flee their homes and families in an attempt to free themselves.… (more)
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It’s very interesting but it’s a book that a reader needs to take his/her time with because it can get confusing if you don’t read it carefully. Overall I liked it but not quite as much as The Arid Sky which had more elements of a crime thriller and a bit more action. Monge is a very good writer IMO but like a lot of writers though one book you like better than another.
The author's writing style is unique and there are three, if not four, distinct writing styles throughout the book that challenge the reader to shift gears in order to understand what's going on. The author's use of multi-page run-on asides, and asides-within-asides, can also be frustrating when you find yourself having to turn back a page to remember how a sentence began. One of the most interesting things about the author's writing style is what goes unsaid in the book, specifically, his half of the conversations/interviews with his father. This unsaid half of entire conversations leaves the reader with cryptic moments where they need to fill in the blanks at times, something I found humorously ironic rather than frustrating. These stylistic notes do not deter me at all from highly recommending this book, though, because Monge's writing style and his story was so fascinating that when I finished it I immediately flipped to the beginning and read the entire book a second time (something I'm not sure I've ever done before, but it was worth it).
This book is a must read for anyone who has ever felt stuck in life - not because it'll give you answers, but because it'll help you to realize that you're not alone.
Though not a light read, this memoir offers spurts of humor and is interwoven with historical events in Mexico’s evolution.
The distinct differences between each generation's section of the
I was easily carried along in each separate story as well as the larger story, which is really an inquiry. So as a memoir I feel it was successful. In particular the ways it interrogated masculinity, or more accurately how men perform their idea of masculinity.
What makes this a book that will stay with me has less to do with Monge's family history and more with what his questioning approach elicited from me. Most memoirs, even ones that intend to highlight some broader questions, are largely nostalgia through a lighter or darker lens. Those generally make me remember my life in a nostalgic manner, even the less appealing moments. But this intense questioning, this intense desire to answer questions, made me think about, and re-frame, moments in both my and my family's history.
While I highly recommend this memoir I would also warn a reader to keep in mind this is both a fictionalized account and far more thematic than a basic chronological telling.
Reviewed from a copy made available by the publisher via LibraryThing Early Reviewers.
The book opens with a quote from the front-page headline of a newspaper published in Culiacán, the capital of the Mexican state of Sinaloa, in 1962: “MONGE, DEPRAVED RASPUTIN!” The Monge in question is the author’s paternal grandfather, who disappeared four years earlier after staging his own death, leaving behind and severely disrupting the lives of his wife and four children, until he suddenly reappears four years without a hint of penitence, as if he had left to go to a corner store a few minutes earlier. Monge describes his grandfather’s scheme, then places it in context for what is to come:
But the scene that I have just sketched is not what matters. It is simply a list of events, And events are not the story. Even facts are not the whole story. The story is an invisible current in the depths that moves all things. The true story is why my grandfather sensed—instinctively, as an animal might—that he had to leave. Just as, many years later, my father would do the same. And how, in turn, my moment came.
The author returns to his home town to interview his father, a bitter man who is wracked with illness and frailty and seems much older than his apparent age would suggest. The fictionalized conversation between the two men consists only of the father’s dialogue, and the reader is left to fill in the son’s comments. The history of the Monge family is slowly revealed, akin to separating the layers of an onion, as the son extracts details about the life of his relatives, from his reluctant father. Other chapters consist of diaries kept by the maternal grandfather, and the author’s own story of his life, and those of his parents and brothers, told in the context of México over the past 75 years.
What Goes Unsaid was an interesting view into the lives of a remarkable but not unusual Mexican family, and the often difficult and fractured relationships that men of all backgrounds have with their families, and with each other.