"El Llano en llamas" is today a classic of Mexican and Latin American literature, and probably one of the volumes of stories most translated into other languages in the world. A seemingly simple work is, however, profoundly disconcerting. In its formal unity rests a great diversity of languages, registers and tones with which Rulfo addresses the problem of a multiform violence—unabashed at times, insidious others—, to such a naturalized point that it has ceased to be recognized as such. However, the author does not "reflect" or "denounce" it, nor does he stage it: he pursues it to its most recondite folds, empathizing with the feeling of those who exercise it or suffer it, without managing to recognize it most of the time. Or more precisely: rather than violence itself, what the stories of "El Llano en llamas" stage is usually that dark and confused struggle with its imprint on the feeling of those who were once involved in it, without then noticing its true face.
"El Llano en llamas" is today a classic of Mexican and Latin American literature, and probably one of the volumes of stories most translated into other languages in the world. A seemingly simple work is, however, profoundly disconcerting. In its formal unity rests a great diversity of languages, registers and tones with which Rulfo addresses the problem of a multiform violence—unabashed at times, insidious others—, to such a naturalized point that it has ceased to be recognized as such. However, the author does not "reflect" or "denounce" it, nor does he stage it: he pursues it to its most recondite folds, empathizing with the feeling of those who exercise it or suffer it, without managing to recognize it most of the time. Or more precisely: rather than violence itself, what the stories of "El Llano en llamas" stage is usually that dark and confused struggle with its imprint on the feeling of those who were once involved in it, without then noticing its true face.