68 pages • 2 hours read
Carlos travels south to the pampas, a spread of fertile grasslands that fringe the Buenos Aires city center. Many Argentinians choose to speed through the pampas, crediting them as little more than a wasteland. However, Carlos thinks differently. As he travels through small towns and wide, open plains, he forgets the stress of urban life. The intense heat creates a mirage, and Carlos spies ranchers, hawks, and cattle emerging from the distance.
One night, Carlos rents a room in a small hotel. Dining at a nearby cafe, Carlos meets Domingo, a gaucho who initially assumes that Carlos is a policeman. Carlos quickly explains that he’s searching for Cecilia, and Domingo shares that his nephew has similarly disappeared.
The next day, Carlos drives further into the pampas. When a flamingo catches his attention, Carlos turns, noticing a gravel lane that stretches away from the highway. A small sign stands near the lane, indicating the distant house “Esperanza” and introducing its proprietors as Amos and Sara Sternberg.
Suddenly, a flock of birds surrounds Carlos, and he recognizes macaws, parrots, cockatoos, and Argentine goldfinches. Carlos follows one of the goldfinches down the lane, toward the house. As it comes into view, Carlos notices the house’s bright colors. On its porch sits an older man, hand-feeding birds. The man introduces himself as Amos Sternberg, welcoming Carlos. Sara appears soon after, beautiful but afflicted with a cataract in one eye.
Responding to Amos and Sara’s curiosity, Carlos explains his journey, touching upon his gift. Carlos senses that Amos and Sara immediately understand him, and they invite him to stay the night. Later, at dinner, a mysterious companion, Sasha, helps set the table. She appears to be about 50 years old, and Carlos recognizes the tattooed numbers on her arm—a relic of a concentration camp. Sasha leaves them, preferring to eat alone.
During dinner, Amos explains that Sasha is unable to speak. While imprisoned in the camp, a German soldier removed her tongue as punishment. Amos reveals that he and Sara were also imprisoned in Auschwitz and fled to Argentina following the camp’s liberation. As Amos and Carlos look over old photos, Amos emphasizes the power of imagination, comparing his imprisonment to a waking nightmare. When Carlos asks Amos about his habit of keeping birds, Amos likens the birds to the spirits of those departed, offering him a chance to properly remember them.
The next morning, before Carlos leaves, the Sternbergs encourage him to apply his gift. As Carlos drives away, he spots Cecilia, but it is merely the effect of another mirage. However, the Sternbergs’ example has still encouraged Carlos, and he arrives back in Buenos Aires with a new sense of hope.
Back in Buenos Aires, Carlos joins the mothers again in their Thursday march on the Plaza de Mayo. Carlos stares directly at the Casa Rosada, wondering if Guzman—the orchestrator of the disappearances—is watching them. After the demonstration, Carlos approaches a man he noticed during the march. The man, introduced as Gustavo Santos, explains that his sister, Marta, has been abducted by the government. Gustavo simmers with rage, and Carlos encourages Gustavo to come to his garden.
Soon, the mothers—joined by Carlos, Gustavo, and a few compassionate nuns—decide to raise their profile, hoping to better pressure the generals. They plan to meet at the Church of the Holy Cross to share ideas and consolidate a list of demands.
One hot day, the mothers process from the Plaza to the church. A motorcade of Falcons tails them through the city streets. Though some onlookers emerge from neighboring buildings, the line of Falcons scares them away.
Eventually, the group reaches the church. There, Father Ullman promises the church’s support, urging the protestors to trust in their faith. As the women take turns speaking, Hannah Masson stands up and suggests that the women narrow their demands, emphasizing intel about the disappeared. After Hannah’s speech stirs the crowd, Gustavo rises, attesting to the group’s integrity and compassion. The group produces four discrete demands. However, as they move toward the church door, the authorities swarm in, arresting participants and herding them into waiting Falcons.
Later that night, Carlos realizes that the mothers must have been infiltrated. He dreams again of Cecilia, but this time she stands atop the Casa Rosada. Suddenly, a man pushes Cecilia off the building. Carlos recognizes the man as Gustavo Santos and wakes to a crashing sound. When he and Teresa rush to investigate, they find that a blood-covered brick has been tossed through their window. Staring at the broken glass, Carlos realizes that his dream has indicated the traitor.
Martín joins Carlos for another session in his garden. A group of mothers gathers to seek Carlos’s advice, and Carlos listens for the word or image that might spark his imagination. Eventually, Gustavo Santos—who has joined the group for the first time—speaks about his sister, Marta. As Gustavo explains, Marta had worked for General Guzman and accidentally glimpsed classified information. Guzman, fearing exposure, kidnapped Marta from her apartment.
Carlos knows that Gustavo, the informant, is fabricating this story, but he treads carefully lest he upset the crowd. As part of his own lie, Carlos narrates Marta’s experience. Marta, in Carlos’s pretend vision, waits in a white room, listening as footsteps echo in the hall. However, Carlos admits that can’t see Marta clearly and is instead possessed with a vision of General Guzman.
In Carlos’s narration, Guzman is afraid to discover Marta by his desk. Guzman is a descendant of soldiers, and he cringes to imagine any threat to his fatherland. Guzman fears Argentinians’ recklessness, and he hopes that his own strong rule will restore their potential.
Guzman, also, is a student of history, learning Latin to better study Ancient Rome. Guzman is also well-versed in the politics of the Third Reich, attributing its collapse to the betrayal of leftists and intellectuals. Sometimes, Guzman meets with Josef Mengele, a Nazi eugenicist who fled to South America following the Reich’s collapse.
Carlos breaks, recognizing his vision of Guzman as unusual. As Carlos explains, government officials are typically one-dimensional and faceless, ceding their individuality to the aims of the state. Gustavo listens, a little unsure, and Carlos realizes that Gustavo recognizes his game.
When Gustavo doesn’t break, Carlos doubles down. He creates a new, more detailed vision of Marta. As Carlos recounts, Marta is of small build, almost resembling Gustavo. Marta waits in her cell with other women until the guards remove her to an interrogation room. As the guards pepper her with questions, Marta is repeatedly groped and electrocuted. The guards, standing around, discuss Carlos and his garden sessions. They plan to send a spy, equipped with a tape recorder, to gather intel. That spy, Carlos reveals, is Gustavo Santos.
Following the reveal, Gustavo panics, attempting to dodge Carlos’s accusation. As the crowd grows restless, unsure whom to believe, Carlos asks Gustavo to empty his pockets, expecting to discover the tape recorder. Gustavo complies readily, as he only carries a wallet, keys, and some change. When Carlos asks Gustavo to remove his shirt, however, Gustavo hesitates. This hesitation assures the crowd of Gustavo’s guilt, but Carlos orders that he be set free, so that his superiors might understand the group’s willingness to resist. As Gustavo leaves, the crowd is united again. To encourage them, Carlos explains that the authorities might employ spies, but their imagination will never be able to conquer Carlos’s gift.
Gustavo—whose real name is Mario Rabán—resumes his work with the state. One night, Rabán abducts a young woman, only for the woman’s friend, Dagmar Hagelin, to happen upon the scene. Anxious to leave no witnesses, Rabán shoots the friend and loads her body into the car. When Carlos hears of this tragedy, he regrets setting Rabán free, imagining that Dagmar might otherwise be alive. Suddenly, Carlos decides that he needs to confront Guzman directly.
Carlos walks to the Casa Rosada in the rain, feeling oddly sheltered underneath his umbrella. Passing the shuttered headquarters of La Opinión, Carlos thinks wistfully of Cecilia. Carlos crosses the Plaza de Mayo and enters the Casa Rosada. Unlike other juntas, Argentina’s military administration opens its doors to the public, offering a false sense of transparency.
Despite an initial rebuff, Carlos is offered 15 minutes to meet with Guzman. Carlos assumes that Guzman’s office will drip with medals, flags, and other achievements, but instead, it’s quite bare, resembling a monk’s room. Guzman, sitting at his desk, faces away from the windows, ignoring the demonstrations on the Plaza de Mayo.
Carlos demands answers about Cecilia, but Guzman alleges that he has no record of Cecilia or any supposed disappearances. Carlos grows angry, and for a moment, Guzman seems to understand Carlos’s strength. Unnerved, Guzman subtly summons a lieutenant into his office, effectively dismissing Carlos. Carlos continues to pressure Guzman about the many disappearances. Guzman remains silent, however, and suggests that Cecilia has merely run off. Before leaving, Carlos predicts that Guzman will regret this conversation.
As Carlos walks home through the pouring rain, he thinks of Guzman’s face, recognizing its similarity to Nazis. Still, Guzman is human, and therefore fallible. Sitting alone in his office, Carlos lands on an idea for a new play, titled The Names.
When Martín falls ill, Teresa nurses him, reading aloud Jorge Luis Borges’s short story “The South.” Martín admires Borges’s work for its flexible idea of reality. Reflecting on Carlos’s gift, Martín realizes that Carlos has accomplished something similar. Carlos, however, turns away from Martín’s pride.
During another garden session, Solomon Levy—an old friend of Amos and Sara Sternberg—speaks up, hoping to learn about relatives he lost during the Holocaust. Conjuring a vision, Carlos imagines the path of Avrom, Solomon’s grandson. Avrom, as Carlos narrates, is celebrating his bar mitzvah when Nazis descend upon Solomon’s apartment. All the partygoers are captured and loaded onto trains, except Avrom, who’s been struck with the butt of a rifle. Avrom finds himself wedged behind the family sofa, and he escapes the Nazis’ attention. Once night falls, Avrom leaves his hiding spot and eats his bar mitzvah cake.
Soon, Avrom begins his life as a scavenger, joining other boys who have been orphaned during the war. Eventually, he travels to Paris and begins a silversmith apprenticeship. Avrom often visits Paris’ Jewish neighborhoods to seek news of his family. At this point, Avrom doesn’t realize that all of his family, excepting Solomon, has been murdered.
Avrom grows into a successful silversmith. Eventually, he marries Erica, a Buenos Aires native whose family has relocated to Paris. When Erica’s parents are murdered during a burglary attempt, Erica is left completely without family. Avrom and Erica have a child, Isabel, and though Erica adores her daughter, Avrom can sense Erica’s longing for Argentina. To help repair her homesickness, Avrom makes friends with other Argentinian expatriates.
One day, Avrom and Erica travel to Warsaw and visit Solomon’s old apartment, asking neighbors for news of Solomon’s fate. Avrom realizes, however, that the neighborhood has changed, and he returns to Paris without any leads. Deciding it’s essential to their happiness, Avrom relocates his family to Argentina. Carlos imagines that Avrom still lives locally and encourages Solomon to seek him.
Returning inside, Carlos strums his guitar and thinks of Cecilia. Martín, sensing that Carlos needs to be alone, departs. As he rides in a taxi, Martín realizes that all of Carlos’s stories are similar in their need to break through and return. This, he understands, is a new facet of Carlos’s gift.
Carlos begins work on his play The Names, based in part on his experience with the Sternbergs. At first, Esme and Silvio hesitate to stage the project, until Carlos reminds them of the importance of speaking up.
Eventually, after a bout of writer’s block, Carlos produces a draft of the play. As Esme reviews the script, Carlos begins working on a soundtrack. After a few weeks, Martín visits the Children’s Theater to take a tour of the set. A row of skeletal forms, topped with small birds, are arranged diagonally across the stage, while the background resembles a eucalyptus grove. Carlos invites Martín to the play’s rehearsals, but Martín decides to wait until the first performance.
On opening day, a crowd of children and adults pack into the theater. Martín recognizes two government officials in the audience. As the show begins, the room darkens. When a spotlight flicks on, Carlos is seated in the middle of the stage, holding his guitar. Gesturing to the skeletal trees behind him, Carlos talks about the importance of names, noting how easily the government has erased them. This play, Carlos explains, keeps those names alive.
As Carlos strums his guitar, the children file onto the stage, dressed as colorful, plumed birds. They circle the trees and sing out the names of the disappeared. Suddenly, the music stops, and a larger black-and-white apparition swoops onto the stage, gathering the children in its wings. Still, the children recite the names.
Eventually, the bird releases the children, but their plumes are torn and bloodied. A group of children, dressed in white scarves, encircles the apparition, carrying it off stage.
As the play ends, the audience erupts in cheers, and Carlos is happy to behold the play’s effect. When Martín warns Carlos about the government officials in the audience, Carlos brushes him off, claiming that they pose no threat.
That night, Carlos dreams about playing his guitar when Cecilia appears, led between two men. Carlos discovers a new musical finesse and Cecilia is freed. Together, they walk down a tree-lined avenue, and Cecilia’s voice sounds like music, until it turns to screams. Suddenly, Carlos wakes to find three men in his bedroom, approaching him. As Teresa calls out, one of the men strikes Carlos, knocking him down. The voices recede, and Carlos falls unconscious.
In this section of chapters, Thornton introduces a sudden, but significant, change in setting: The pampas. The pampas is a network of expansive grasslands, and it emerges as a staging ground for major developments in Carlos’s consciousness and sense of mission. Here, as Carlos encounters the pampas and forms a meaningful relationship with three of its residents, he begins to appreciate the value of Memory and Imagination as Resistance in the face of conformity.
Up to this point, the novel’s primary setting has been Buenos Aires, reflecting the crowds and noise that define urban life. The pampas is an utter contrast: Martín describes the pampas as a “spatial interlude to be traversed as rapidly as possible” (71). To the weary traveler, its vastness either “frightens or bores” (71), stirring a sense of isolation. However, Carlos approaches the pampas more optimistically. Since the novel’s beginning, he has existed amongst crowds, joining the mothers on the Plaza de Mayo and then sharing his visions with them in his garden, but here, he has a rare moment of peace. He imagines himself as a “Spanish cartographer” (72) riding on horseback, dwarfed by the landscape but eager to chart its limits. Indeed, to Carlos, the grasslands convey not loneliness but possibility, a “blank sheet of paper” (72) upon which he can register his own impressions.
This sense of individual purpose strengthens Carlos’s experience. In escaping Buenos Aires and its demands, Carlos is finally able to commune with himself, addressing his foremost desire: To find Cecilia. Tellingly, when asked by locals, Carlos explains that he’s searching amongst the pampas for Cecilia. Significantly, his only exercise of imagination features Cecilia near a eucalyptus grove. Though Carlos enjoys his garden sessions and their encouragement of community, he appreciates here the value of self-purpose.
After Carlos returns from the pampas, he encounters a rare opportunity: When the traitor Gustavo Santos infiltrates Carlos’s garden, he offers insight into the regime’s ethos. As Thornton characterizes the regime and its militants, he similarly considers the dynamic between the self and the collective, echoing Carlos’s experience in the pampas: Where Carlos explores the benefits of independence, the regime opts for conformity. As Carlos describes, the militants have “one face, the same eyes, [and] move to the beat of the same heart” (92), driving in mint-green Ford Falcons that symbolize their conformity (See: Symbols & Motifs). For the regime, the self is inferior to the demands of a common purpose, and its militants easily shed their identity to better serve the interests of the state. For instance, without any apparent hesitation, Gustavo Santos has traded his real name—Mario Rabán—for this alias. In this light, the regime’s war on political dissidents is a greater push toward conformity, punishing self-expression to protect the state’s interest.
In some respects, it appears that the regime’s efforts might be working. Even in the pampas, where Carlos finds purpose in solitude, the Dirty War registers: Bodies appear in the grass, and a local gaucho has lost his nephew. However, during his trip, Carlos encounters a couple who have resisted totalitarian conformity at all costs: The name of Amos and Sara’s farm, “Esperanza,” means “hope” (74). The name of their farm speaks to the qualities of resilience and optimism that Amos and Sara embody. The birds that lead Carlos to Esperanza are also significant, reflecting a motif that represents resilience (See: Symbols & Motifs).
As Carlos learns, Amos, Sara, and Sasha are Holocaust survivors. They, too, have suffered the brutality of an authoritarian regime, grouped together according to Jewish heritage and shorn of an individual identity. Amos and Sara develop a bond with Carlos, highlighting Shared Tragedy as a Building Block of Community as they share their experiences. Carlos is struck by their resolve. Exemplifying this resolve is a photograph, taken by a Russian soldier on the day of the camp’s liberation. Viewing the picture, Carlos recognizes “people with no hair who looked like skeletons, and one of the skeletons standing next to each other, either crying or laughing” (76). Though the Nazis had planned their murder in the interest of homogeneity, the Sternbergs endured, registering their protest in the form of a candid photo. To Carlos, the picture offers valuable encouragement, suggesting an individual’s power to thwart an authoritarian agenda.
Carlos ultimately adapts this lesson into his play The Names, embracing his own new form of radical resistance and underscoring The Lasting Impact of Art and Writing. His child actors are dressed as birds, once more invoking the motif of hope and resilience in the face of oppression. While the regime tries to impose terror and silence through its arrests and disappearing of dissidents, the play defiantly embraces the importance of memory and speaking the truth, with the child actors reciting the names of the missing persons. Although government officials are present in the audience, Carlos is unafraid, and the audience does not hold back in their reaction either: Their loud cheers suggest that the audience is also beginning to draw strength and courage in the open acknowledgment of shared suffering.
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