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A review by christopherc
Aura by Carlos Fuentes
3.0
Carlos Fuentes’ 1962 novella AURA is something of a ghost story and a play on identity. Felipe Montero is a Mexican academic who is attracted one day by a classified ad promising an unusually high salary to whomever can speak French and fulfill secretarial duties. He goes to the address specified in the advertisement and discovers that he'll be working for the ancient widow Consuelo Llorente, editing the memoires of her late husband who fought on the wrong side in the 19th century and suffered exile in France. But soon Felipe is less interested in the yellowed papers he is tasked with than with Aura, his employer's beautiful young niece. I shall say no more of the plot lest I spoil the surprise.
The novella is written in the second person, in such a way that it feels like you, the reader, are stepping through the story moment-by-moment, e.g. the very beginning of the story: “Lees ese anuncio: una oferta de esa naturaleza no se hace todos los días. Lees y relees el aviso. Parece dirigido a ti, a nadie más.” Fuentes then succeeds in creating a feeling of claustrophobia and vague dread as Felipe -- and you -- step through the badly lit and decaying colonial mansion in which the story is set.
I was somewhat less happy with the pacing of the story towards the end, which leads to what I feel is an overhasty conclusion. As much as I wanted to proclaim the story a classic while reading, once I finished it I couldn't help but feel some measure of dissatisfaction. Still, it's a quick read and it might appeal to others. At the very least it’s worth reading as one of the most prominent Mexican stories of the 20th century.
The novella is written in the second person, in such a way that it feels like you, the reader, are stepping through the story moment-by-moment, e.g. the very beginning of the story: “Lees ese anuncio: una oferta de esa naturaleza no se hace todos los días. Lees y relees el aviso. Parece dirigido a ti, a nadie más.” Fuentes then succeeds in creating a feeling of claustrophobia and vague dread as Felipe -- and you -- step through the badly lit and decaying colonial mansion in which the story is set.
I was somewhat less happy with the pacing of the story towards the end, which leads to what I feel is an overhasty conclusion. As much as I wanted to proclaim the story a classic while reading, once I finished it I couldn't help but feel some measure of dissatisfaction. Still, it's a quick read and it might appeal to others. At the very least it’s worth reading as one of the most prominent Mexican stories of the 20th century.