The Obscene Bird of Night

By José Donoso 

Translated by Hardie St. Martin and Leonard Mades 

First published by in 1979 by Godine

This Third Verdba Mundi edition published in 2009

Humberto Peñaloza, or Mudito, and a group of old women and orphans live in a dilapidated convent (or is it an asylum?) of sorts called the Casa de Ejercicios Espirituales de la Encarnación at La Chimba. Inside, there’s the ghost of an old man, who died naked and, as a ghost, chases women through the halls. If they pray hard enough, he slowly begins to be clothed, piece by piece. There’s Iris, who is the hope of the seven women/witches. She becomes pregnant and sneaks out at night to have sex. She treats one of the old women of the group as her baby and breastfeeds and pleasures her while Mudito gives voice to a paper mache mask that serves as an inanimate version of himself and muses on his life before: “...we all know one another here, in fact we’re almost all blood relations…to be someone, Humberto, that’s the important thing…” (122). And this is just the beginning, just a small window of what is to come. 

Immediately there is perspective shifting (often in the same sentence) and talking about the self in third person (“No one was able to speak with Humberto Peñaloza because as soon as he heard that name he fled down the corridors into the depths of the Casa, Humberto Peñaloza doesn’t exist, he’s an invention, he’s not a person but a character, no one can want to speak with him, because they must know that he’s a mute.” (358)), so that the narration is a mystery. It becomes part of the labyrinthian feel of the dilapidated convent. I’d be curious to see how this kind of thing reads with the newer translation coming from New Directions. It creates the effect that you're floating in and out of people’s minds. It’s extremely disorienting and confusing, especially at first. Eventually you begin to catch on, and it’s less jarring. Timelines are also confused and mixed together, so that events jump around constantly from the past to the present and in between. So, it begs the question: is it worth all of the trouble? Well, it depends on what kind of reader you are and what kind of book you’re looking for. 

Returning to the narrative, in part one, we learn that the Casa is owned by Don Jerónimo Azcoitía, and that one of the girls of the Casa, Iris, is pregnant with his child. The women of the Casa decide that this baby is a miracle and that they should hide the baby from everyone, housing it and Iris in Mudito’s cellar. Iris roams free, though, and Mudito even unlocks the gate and lets her wander the streets outside at night. 

Part two then switches focus to that of a younger Jerónimo. It tells of him getting into politics and courting one of his distant cousins, Inés. Peta Ponce, a kind of token witch character, saves Inés’ life. Don J is scared of her and wants her gone. The backdrop of Jerónimo’s political career sets up the narrative of his corruption and of identity switching, so that you just have to be along for the ride, knowing that sometimes perspectives will shift from one paragraph to the next with no clear indication except for how things are relayed. It culminates with Humberto Peñaloza self identifying as Don J and impregnating Inés/Peta Ponce to provide the much sought after son and heir. This creates a dynamic where Jerónimo needs Humberto around so that he can regain his virility, making Humberto watch him have sex with other women. It is observation that gives actions power.

Once Jerónimo and Inés’ child is born a monster, Humberto is tasked with isolating him in the Azcoitía house and has to find other so-called deformed people to surround the child, Boy, with so that he will never know anything different, that he will never know the cruelty of the world. Humberto eventually feels like the actual outcast of this environment and grows paranoid that the others are making fun of him. It is slowly revealed that Humberto is, in fact, Mudito. He is demoralized and stripped of identity by Jerónimo. He imagines his organs and features being taken and replaced by that of the so-called monsters around him, and he is horrified and lives in fear of his master. Was there never a Boy? Was it only ever a trap for Humberto?

Part three deals with the threat that the Casa is going to be sold and torn down (Don J is trying to make a deal to sell the property and turn it into a children’s home). Auctioneers begin removing things from the chapel and sealing it up. The inmates make new saints from the ruins and fragments of old statues to replace those taken for auction. Iris takes Mudito as her baby, waiting for hers to be born. Inés writes to say that she is going to return to the casa, despite her failure to be beatified by the Vatican…it then goes on to tell the story of her ancestor, who has her same name. It turns out that Peta Ponce, the token witch, is a relation to Inés, or so it is rumored, and it was she that might have brought Mudito to the Casa all along. Inés returns to the Casa and plans to burn a bunch of stuff, reeling from her denial at the Vatican. But, it turns out that Inés didn’t leave the Casa for beatification. Rather, she went to Europe for a hysterectomy so that Don J would leave her alone.

It’s also suggested that everything is a lie made up by Humberto who ran away/escaped from the Casa many years ago. Emperatriz, cousin of Don J, has been lying and keeping Boy as isolated as possible so that she, as caretaker, might inherit Don J’s wealth one day. Inés becomes Peta Ponce, and so we have the fusion of the saint and witch. It’s implied that Don J used the Casa to house his political enemies, that it’s a prison of sorts. That Inés and Iris are maybe the same person, that Iris’ miraculous baby is Humberto. That he’s playing the part of her baby. 

Inés wins Iris’ baby, Mudito/Humberto in a bet, and he spends the night with her. He tries to rape her, thinking her the incarnation/same person as Peta Ponce, and she goes crazy, screaming before people are called in to subdue her. She is then taken to a mental hospital, and Humberto looks at this as a victory, having defeated one half of Don J, locking up his wife/witch. The only thing that remains is for Humberto to destroy himself, and then Don J will have no one left to watch him, to give him the satisfaction of being watched. Humberto aims to take away his power by eliminating himself. 

The narrative shifts again. This time, we see Dr Azula and Emperatriz plotting with Boy to trap Don J, so that they can inherit the estate and ensure their safety, never having to leave the Azcoitía estate (different from the Casa). We learn that the Casa and descriptions of it were from Humberto’s mind, so that what is real comes into question: “Humberto had no talent for simplicity. He felt the need to twist normal things around, a kind of compulsion to take revenge and destroy, and he complicated and deformed his original project so much that it’s as if he’d lost himself forever in the labyrinth he invented as he went along that was filled with darkness and terrors more real than himself and his other character…” (392) 

Don J then starts visiting the estate to become close with Boy. Emperatriz and company spring a trap, isolating Don J. He starts to see himself as a monster. As he comes to believe this, he is so appalled by his appearance that he drowns himself. His wealth passes to Emperatriz and Dr. Azula, so that they can maintain the estate and continue living free from the influence of the outside world. Again, identity is put in question with Donoso emphasizing how oppression influences the way we see ourselves, how it shapes us, how the environment around us forms our sense of self worth. 

It then cuts back to Iris/Inés, and it is suggested that Mudito/Humberto was actually her son, and that the women of the Casa hold onto the idea of this child as something Holy, that continuing to uphold the miraculous child will help get them into Heaven. The women of the Casa are left on their own, no longer getting money/support from the now-dead Don J, so they have to find new ways to survive. Soon after, a group of priests show up to move everyone to another convent/orphanage to clear the way for the Casa to be torn down. The final scene shows that the narrator, all along, was less Humberto and more Humberto’s writings, his pages. It is a great scene emphasizing the impermanence and futility of thought. It puts a bow on the warped sense of self/narrative and on the chaos of existence that are emphasized throughout the book.

There are so many big-time themes to explore in this book. It begs for interpretation, to analyze the ideas of the self, of systems of control and oppression, of notions of sanity and reality, of struggle to put form to the formless void, and on and on. I haven’t really done any of that but could easily write some-thousands of words on any one of those things (this review is already proving to be long enough, so I’ll cut it short here). Yet, I spent a lot of time struggling against this book. It is extremely obtuse, and this is coming from someone who doesn’t mind obtuseness. In fact, I invite it and usually revel in it. I like that it forces you to meet it where it is, that Donoso challenges narrative perspective and presentation in a way that I haven’t experienced before. It’s rooted in gothic and post-modern literature but is different from them. I cannot recommend this book for most people, even those looking for the obscure, but I enjoyed my time with it and am glad I read it. Maybe you will too, just know that it requires real work and attention (though that alone probably makes it worthwhile).

Update 4/24/24: Originally, I did not recommend this (and I think it’s clear that this is something I wrestled with). Now, a few months later, I’m changing this to a recommendation. Though my thoughts about the book are largely the same, I have found myself thinking about it often, reflecting on the characters, structures, and forms, and, ultimately, its uniqueness makes it worthy.

Heavy Lit rating: Recommended

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