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68 pages 2 hours read

Lawrence Thornton

Imagining Argentina

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 1987

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Chapters 26-34Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Chapter 26 Summary

During his usual garden session, Carlos helps Hermione Benveniste hope for her sons’ future. When another attendee approaches him, Carlos announces that the time has come to imagine Cecilia. Martín supplies a few details to encourage Carlos’s vision. 

In Carlos’s imagination, Cecilia is moved from place to place. At one point, her guards drive her out to a farm in the pampas, boarding her in a clean, white room. Teresa is nearby, and she and Cecilia are permitted to meet a handful of times. As a game, the guards force Cecilia to choose which of them will rape her daughter. 

Each visit, a guard escorts Cecilia down the hallway to Teresa’s room. Mother and daughter weep in each other’s arms, and Cecilia regrets that she cannot shield Teresa from the guards’ attacks. Cecilia closely monitors Teresa’s stomach in case she is impregnated.

Suddenly, the visits stop. At first, Cecilia does not realize that Teresa has been murdered and speculates that the guards have forgotten. Left alone, Cecilia regrets that she does not have a pen and paper with which to record her experience; writing, for Cecilia, is an extension of her soul. Instead, Cecilia builds the narrative in her head, intending to commit it to memory. However, as the story lengthens, Cecilia struggles to remember it perfectly. To rectify this, Cecilia creates a mnemonic device, associating paragraphs with swirls in the white plaster. 

One day, when Cecilia realizes that Teresa is dead, she begins to plot her escape. Secreting a length of rope that she’s discovered beneath blankets, Cecilia seduces one of her guards. The guard, taking the bait, enters Cecilia’s room. After a struggle, Cecilia strangles him. Working quickly, Cecilia strips his uniform and dresses in it herself. Before escaping into the night, she takes a last look at the plaster, remembering her story. 

Still dressed as a guard, Cecilia exits the building and sets out across the pampas. As dawn approaches, she realizes that the intense heat will hinder any travel. Luckily, drifting down a country road, she finds a wooden shelter, intended to help trucks pass onto a grain elevator. Tucked into a nook, Cecilia sleeps fitfully for a few hours until a truck passes nearby, waking her. When the truck’s driver steps out of the cab, Cecilia sneaks out to steal his water pouch. After quenching her thirst, Cecilia falls back asleep. 

When Cecilia wakes again, she considers seeking help at one of the nearby houses. Though Cecilia recognizes the risk, she also accepts that she will die without proper shelter. Cecilia approaches a building with the name “Souza” printed on the front, and two men answer her knocks. Luckily, the men are sympathetic, and they clear a place for her to rest. Later, when soldiers come to investigate Cecilia’s escape, the Souzas pretend not to know anything.

One day, Cecilia asks one of the men, Ernesto, if she might send a message to Carlos. Ernesto advises her to wait but mentions an upcoming visit to La Boca, sometime in the next month. He promises to help Cecilia then.

Chapter 27 Summary

Reflecting on Carlos’s story about Cecilia, Martín experiences a moment of doubt, wondering if Carlos’s visions are merely reflections of his career as a storyteller. Martín attributes this sudden worry to the intimacy of Carlos’s vision, as Martín, too, aches to see Cecilia again. 

Meanwhile, more and more protesters join the mothers on the Plaza de Mayo. The local papers also grow more brazen in their criticism of the junta. One day, Martín meets Eugenia at Cafe Raphael. Over lunch, Eugenia tells Martín about an old friend whose pregnant granddaughter, Isabel, had been abducted. Isabel gave birth in prison, and her child was quickly taken away. However, sometime later, the child was returned to Isabel, and they both were returned home. 

Two of Martín’s old colleagues, Federico Paz and Manuel Salazar, join him and Eugenia. Together, the group anticipates that the junta will soon collapse. However, Martín is skeptical that the generals will ever face justice. 

Later, when visiting the Plaza de Mayo, Martín chats with one of the mothers. The mother expects that the generals will destroy any damning evidence and escape their comeuppance. Martín shares the mother’s concern. That night, he dreams of Cecilia, gathering vegetables in a large garden. As she wipes the sweat from her brow, a group of singing children surrounds her.

Chapter 28 Summary

As the junta begins to unravel, Carlos chats with Martín, speculating about the generals’ reaction. Carlos imagines them dressed in their finest, dripping with medals and trying to conceal their franticness. Meanwhile, some of the disappeared return home, and Carlos is allowed to reopen the Children’s Theater. Carlos prepares for the final stretch. 

Martín accompanies Carlos to the Plaza de Mayo. Briefly, Carlos enters a trance, imagining Cecilia’s hiding place in the pampas. Martín considers telling Carlos about his dream but falters. Before he can commit, Dolores Gardel runs up to Carlos, dragging her son, Raul, by the hand. Dolores thanks Carlos profusely, explaining that Raul has recently returned home. Raul’s journey, by his own telling, had exactly resembled Carlos’s vision.

Carlos is glad to witness Dolores’s relief but knows his own satisfaction still eludes him. He considers abandoning the city and seeking Cecilia in the pampas but ultimately decides to stay put, knowing that Cecilia must come to him.

Chapter 29 Summary

A week later, Carlos quits his job at Cafe Bidu and returns to work at the Children’s Theater. As he readies the theater for its reopening, Carlos removes the plywood from its doors. The nails have ruined the carved images from Alice in Wonderland and The Wizard of Oz. Carlos briefly considers repairing the damage but ultimately decides to use the doors as reminders. 

One day after work, Carlos drives through La Boca and passes Señora Madrigal’s house. Noticing that the broken shoe is no longer outside, Carlos knocks on the door to inquire. Señora Madrigal explains that she’d moved the shoe indoors once its strap broke. When she offers the shoe to Carlos, he accepts.

On his way home, Carlos purchases two parakeets. Though he has yet to receive any message from Cecilia, Carlos imagines that she is safe in the pampas, spending her days with the Souzas.

Chapter 30 Summary

As human rights advocates arrive in Argentina, the generals work quickly to remove evidence of their brutality. Carlos hopes that his imagination can rival this speed, and he begins holding garden sessions twice a week, on Monday and Thursday. By this point, Carlos has lost weight, and Martín expresses his concern. Carlos, however, says he draws strength from his parakeets’ song. 

One night, as Carlos conducts a meeting in the garden, Martín drifts inside. Exploring Carlos’s study, Martín discovers Cecilia’s missing shoe. Though Carlos has interpreted its discovery as a sign, Martín credits it only as a coincidence. As the parakeets sing, Martín studies a Picasso print, depicting a guitarist. Surprisingly, Martín is reminded not of Carlos but Cecilia. As he thinks back to his dream, in which he’d envisioned Cecilia tending a garden, he listens to Carlos’s faint voice.

Chapter 31 Summary

Carlos works in the theater every day, intending to produce a new play. He balances his time at the theater with his garden sessions, which still attract plenty of visitors. Secretly, Martín hopes that Carlos will let Cecilia rest. One night, during a break in a session, Carlos invites Martín to join him on a stroll. As they walk, Carlos admits that tonight is his last meeting. 

Once he and Martín return, Carlos urges the crowd to picture the generals. These are the men, Carlos alleges, who will look back on the junta without any remorse. Then, Carlos weaves a complicated image, describing the generals as they cover a cave entrance. The generals use branches and rocks to disguise the cave amongst its surroundings, but make sure that someday, they’ll be able to find it again. The generals think their return is inevitable and anticipate Argentina’s rebirth.

Carlos admits that he struggles to imagine the end of Cecilia’s story. Drawing strength from Amos and Sara Sternberg’s story, Carlos still hopes that Cecilia will return to him, in her own time. His ignorance, he admits, is part of the story. 

After the group breaks up, Carlos returns to the house. Martín, still sitting outside, listens as Carlos strums his guitar, taking up the melody from The Names. In the background, the parakeets chirp, and Martín hears an owl amongst the eucalyptus trees. As he watches Carlos, Martín likens him to Picasso’s guitarist, as though he were ageless.

Chapter 32 Summary

As human rights organizations continue their investigations, Buenos Aires newspapers report a staggering number of missing persons. The mothers vow to keep protesting until everyone is accounted for.

After reading a tabloid article about Carlos’s gift, Reverend Johnston, an American evangelist, travels to Argentina. He offers Martín a generous sum, on the condition that Martín facilitate a meeting with Carlos. As Martín considers, Reverend Johnston produces a copy of the story about Carlos—authored and sold by Manuel Salazar. Perusing the article, Martín fumes to realize that Salazar has characterized Carlos as little more than a charlatan. After dismissing Reverend Johnston, Carlos finds Salazar at Cafe Raphael. He upbraids Salazar and promises to complain to Salazar’s editor, ruining his career.

Martín warns Carlos about the article, but Carlos is preoccupied. He asks Martín to accompany him to the Carnival in La Boca, but Martín, much to his regret, chooses to miss it.

Chapter 33 Summary

The next Saturday, Carlos watches the Carnival parade as it weaves through the streets of La Boca. While the music blares, a crowd of costumed spectators pushes in close. Soon, Carlos is swept up in the parade. 

Moving with the crowd, Carlos turns down an adjacent street. Suddenly, he notices an owl logo on a parked truck, advertising the name “Souza.” Struggling against the crowd, Carlos fights back toward the truck. He recognizes its driver as Ernesto and begs to see Cecilia. Ernesto, recognizing Carlos, moves to help—until Cecilia herself calls out Carlos’s name. Looking up, Carlos spies Cecilia in a window. As he weeps, she gestures for him to meet her at the building’s side. Pushing through the crowd, Carlos reaches the building and finds a door. When he opens it, Cecilia is waiting for him at the top of a staircase.

Chapter 34 Summary

The next day, Cecilia surprises Martín, calling him to let him know she’s reunited with Carlos. Martín realizes that he will always remember Cecilia’s call. He also vows to remember the mothers and their protest, as well as the jubilation following the junta’s defeat. 

Four years after Cecilia’s return, she, Carlos, Esme, and Martín watch the generals’ trials. Packed into a crowded courtroom, they listen, rapt, to witness testimony. For a moment, Martín worries that the regime’s horrors might be blunted by statistical analysis, but prosecutor Julio Strassera delivers an emotional closing argument. 

Watching the proceedings, Martín is reminded of Hannah Arendt, a German-American historian who had similarly watched Adolf Eichmann’s trial. Eichmann, an SS officer and major architect of the Holocaust, had hidden in Argentina after the Third Reich’s collapse. Eventually, in the early 1960s, he was captured by Israeli intelligence officers and tried for crimes against humanity. Bitterly, Martín wonders why Argentina ever allowed him refuge.

After the sentences are pronounced—Guzman and Videla earn life imprisonment—Strassera chants “Nunca más!” (212), translating to “never again.” Cecilia and other onlookers join Strassera in the chant. As the generals pass by, filing out of the courtroom, Cecilia announces each by name. 

As they settle back into routine, Carlos and Cecilia move into an apartment. Cecilia resumes her role at La Opinión, while Carlos continues his work at the Children’s Theater. One night, Carlos offers Martín a sneak peek at a new play, inspired by his experience at the Carnival. As Martín reads, he looks out the window, distracted by two boys playing on a swing set. Martín ends the story with a feeling of continuity, confident that Carlos’s work is reflected in the carefree laugher of the children.

Chapters 26-34 Analysis

In this last section of chapters, the Dirty War comes to an end, pressured by increased exposure and the intercession of human rights groups. Without the threat of disappearance, Argentinians are suddenly free to think ahead to the future, imagining the efforts needed for rebuilding. However, the past and its memory never truly leave the Argentine consciousness, reflecting the power of Memory and Imagination as Resistance.

After years of oppression, the regime begins to falter. Martín, from the vantage point of a retired journalist, notices a “discernible weakening of the generals’ grip on Argentina” (189). Slowly, the local papers are freed from state-mandated censorship, and cultural institutions—like the Children’s Theater—reopen to the public. More significantly, some abductees return to their families, emerging from Carlos’s visions into reality. For instance, gathered again on the Plaza de Mayo, Carlos reconnects with Dolores Gardel, who has attended Carlos’s garden sessions in the interest of her son, Raul’s, safe return. Now, with Raul trailing behind her, she kisses Carlos excitedly and thanks him for his wisdom. Though Carlos shudders to realize that not all mothers will enjoy a similar reunion, he still smiles at this evidence of success. 

Indeed, as these institutions of the junta collapse, it’s the generals—not the civilian dissidents—who begin to disappear. On the contrary, the resistance movement swells in participants. Again on the Plaza de Mayo, Martín notices that more and more women are flocking to the mothers’ cause, till “not even the generals could ignore it any longer” (187). Earlier in the novel, when Carlos visits Guzman’s office in the Casa Rosada, he notices that Guzman’s desk faces away from the window, betraying a deep disdain for the mothers’ cause. However, now the mothers have earned the generals’ attention, emerging as a major political force. Carlos appreciates this, too, comparing the movement’s growth to the “mitosis of a single cell” (187). This metaphor, concentrating on small but significant beginnings, hints at the birth of a new, pure era. 

On the cusp of something new, and with the generals’ power waning, Argentinians can finally shift their attention to the future. Newspapers, for instance, hint at a time coming soon when Argentinians will enjoy a normal, democratic society. Carlos, too, embraces this turn toward the future tense. Martín credits him with a “foreknowledge” that accelerates “his mind ahead of the generals,” lending an understanding of the future (192). Martín summarizes this phenomenon with a powerful image: After his final garden session, Carlos returns inside, strumming his guitar to the melody of The Names. Martín watches Carlos through the open doors and notices his resemblance to a Picasso print depicting a guitarist. Staring at the print and Carlos both, Martín enjoys a keen awareness of Carlos’s relationship to posterity: He recognizes The Lasting Impact of Art and Writing, noting that “all traces of age were erased” (204), as though Carlos were truly eternal. 

Despite its promise of new beginnings, this shift toward the future is not without concerns. Some—like Martín and his colleagues—sense danger in the unknown, worried that tragedy will inevitably recur. Prompted by Manuel Salazar to consider Argentina’s future, Eugenia anticipates that “it will be over soon, until the next time” (188). Though Eugenia’s response is undoubtedly cynical, Martín credits it as sincere: “[T]here was no humor in her voice, not even irony” (188). Indeed, Martín seems to share Eugenia’s concern, keenly aware that the future must be protected. 

Fortunately, Martín is hardly alone in this concern, as all Argentinians seek a lasting peace. As the generals are tried for their crimes, a grieved community assembles in the courtroom, foregrounding Shared Tragedy as a Building Block of Community. Eventually, prosecutor Julio Strassera delivers heavy sentences for the regime’s operators—Guzman included—but Martín worries that the charges might “take on the abstraction of a mathematical formula” (212). Without any visceral understanding of the Dirty War, there’s a chance the memory of it might give way to complacency or forgetfulness. However, Strassera proposes a solution, introducing the phrase “Nunca más!” as a building block for a responsible future. Literally translating to “never again,” “nunca más” imagines a future that relies upon the past, incorporating its lessons into a commitment to democracy and emphasizing once more Memory and Imagination as Resistance. As the crowd assumes the chant, Thornton closes the novel with a keen sense of hope.

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