![]() First published in 1947, Volcano had the troubled early life typical of unique books. An atmosphere of difficulty cloaks the book like the thunderheads that hide the "immense flanks" of Popocatepetl, one of the two volcanoes in whose shadows the doomed alcoholic consul, Geoffrey Firmin, his estranged wife Yvonne, and his half-brother Hugh confront their fates. Better that more people just read the thing. Everyone should read it at least twice – Lowry thought several readings were necessary for its full meaning to "explode in the mind" – and 2 November should see Cuernavaca (to which Lowry restores its Nahuatl name of Quauhnahuac) overrun with men and women posing as disgraced members of the diplomatic corps, a Latin Bloomsday for mescal freaks. I left thinking it one of the greatest novels of the 20th century. ![]() ![]() I came to the book knowing only its reputation as a masterpiece of English modernism. T oday is All Souls' Day, the culmination of Mexico's Day of the Dead and the date on which, in 1938, the events of Malcolm Lowry's Under the Volcano take place. ![]()
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