Ariel Rojas Lizana , Sol Rojas Lizana. Historias clandestinas. (Santiado de Chile: LOM Ediciones,
2014, 152 pp.)
Historias clandestinas
quietly delivers a non-fictional tale of epic proportions. The subjective
recollections contained in this graphic memoir, the collaborative product of
siblings Sol Rojas Lizana (writer) and Ariel Rojas Lizana (illustrator), recount daily life under Pinochet’s
repressive regime, describing rather unique circumstances from an unusual perspective.
The story is focalized through two young children who grow up in a decidedly
politicized household, one that in fact served as a safe house for influential
members of MIR (Movimiento de Izquierda
Revolucionaria or the Movement of the Revolutionary
Left) for over a decade. Featuring naïve protagonists, Historias clandestinas appropriately presents a relatively straightforward
storyline relayed through the candid perceptions and deceptively simple
language of children. Highly expressive visuals likewise offer an intimate
portrayal of familial relationships, providing a personalized version of historical
events of both national and international significance. In this way, Historias clandestinas successfully
transmits a previously silenced story of opposition and resistance from Chile’s
recent past.
The
graphic novel, which consists of a prologue and three chapters, narrates a
coming-of-age story while tracing, chronologically, key episodes from Chile’s
turbulent recent history. The opening pages, set in 1970, feature images of
euphoric crowds celebrating Salvador Allende’s democratically elected socialist
government. Depictions of large crowds openly displaying a collective passion
and a fervent, revolutionary spirit are abruptly supplanted by chilling scenes
of violence and brutal repression with the establishment of Pinochet’s regime.
A haunting and wordless sequence depicts the infamous bombing of La Moneda, the Presidential Palace, which took place on
September 11, 1973. Triumphant shouts are replaced by a chilling silence. In
tandem with these events taking place on a national scale, the coup d’état leads
to another form of silencing, on an individual level: the children must quickly learn to conceal the family’s leftist
leanings as well as their active participation in the underground resistance.
The
remainder of the book interweaves the personal with the political. The second
chapter turns from the nation’s unstable political background to introduce the
reader to the “clan.” The children’s father, unwilling to fully engage
political militancy, departs the household thus facilitating the creation of a
new form of kinship, one forged through political bonds rather than bloodlines.
Fittingly, this new set of close-nit relationships is represented through the
visual trope of the family photo album. Historias clandestinas then details the dangers and risks as well as the joyful
moments inherent in leading a clandestine life—from the physical hardships of digging
underground hiding places to the intense fear experienced when passing through roadblocks
and checkpoints; from the defiant elation of painting illicit graffiti on city
walls and disseminating vital information to other members of the underground
resistance via microfilm to the sense of pride and solidarity with the artistic
accomplishment of collaboratively composing the renowned “Himno
a la Resistencia.” In short, text and image capture the spirit of the
resistance movement as felt and understood by two children entering adolescence
during a time of extreme repression, censorship and political persecution.
The
cover of Historias clandestinas artfully
anticipates the thematic content, narrative perspective and intense drawing
style that the reader will encounter throughout the graphic memoir. The cover
page itself—by means of drawn line work that alternates dense, compact layering
with a rather sparse, softer use of lines in order to create contrast and form
images—is transformed into a heavy, industrialized door. Although this austere access
point remains tightly secured with heavy bolts, a brightly illuminated child
peers out from the shadows through the horizontal slats of window blinds,
breaking free from the seemingly impenetrable framing device. This symbolic image
becomes a vital motif throughout Historias clandestinas, undergoing a series of visual reprises. Various iterations of this door
recur, primarily in the form of diverse jail cells, even as numerous illustrations
depict the young protagonists quietly glancing into rooms, furtively looking
through the slats of closed blinds or surreptitiously peering over walls. These
images directly allude to the children’s role as innocent and vulnerable,
albeit curious and actively involved, observers of historical events. In the
words of the narrator-protagonists: “Fuimos testigos. Silenciados por el miedo” (We were witnesses. Silenced by fear.) (unpaginated).
Although
autobiographical, Historias clandestinas
is primarily related through a third person omniscient narrative voice-over, a seemingly
objective, if not somewhat impassive perspective effectively punctuated by occasional
use of the first person plural (nosotros, or we, as seen above). Few panels contain interactive
dialogue. This compelling narrative strategy successfully conveys the covert, stifled
and suppressed nature of the story being told. The work remains far from static,
however. The dramatic drawings, in no way secondary to the verbal composition,
do far more than merely illustrate the narrative tale. In part, the images serve
to accurately portray background information relevant to the specific time
period such as architectural details, clothing styles, automobiles, etc. Perhaps
more importantly, the images effectively capture the emotional intensity of a
secretive, clandestine childhood, especially by means of amplified facial
expressions.
A
heartwarming, informative and often humorous tale populated by child
protagonists and written with accessible language, Historias clandestinas will certainly captivate a young audience.
At the same time, with rich and emotionally intense drawings that eloquently
convey the intensity of a childhood interrupted, this graphic memoir will
likewise appeal to an adult readership. To be sure, while the text highlights iconic
moments of Chile’s history the intimate story of siblings coming of age in a
fearful time of brutal repression, maintains universal appeal.
Whitman
College