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Time Commences in Xibalbá
Time Commences in Xibalbá tells the story of a violent village crisis in Guatemala sparked by the return of a prodigal son, Pascual. He had been raised tough by a poor, single mother in the village before going off with the military. When Pascual comes back, he is changed—both scarred and “enlightened” by his experiences. To his eyes, the village has remained frozen in time. After experiencing alternative cultures in the wider world, he finds that he is both comforted and disgusted by the village’s lingering “indigenous” characteristics.
De Lión manages to tell this volatile story by blending several modes, moods, and voices so that the novel never falls into the expected narrative line. It wrenches the reader’s sense of time and identity by refusing the conventions of voice and character to depict a new, multi-layered periphery. This novel demands that we leave preconceptions about indigenous culture at the front cover and be ready to come out the other side not only with a completely different understanding of indigeneity in Latin America, but also with a much wider understanding of how supposedly peripheral peoples actually impact the modern world.
The first translation into English of this thought-provoking novel includes a conluding essay by the translator suggesting that a helpful approach for the reader might be to see the work as enacting the never-quite-there poetics of translation underlying Guatemala’s indigenous heart. An afterword by Arturo Arias, the leading thinker on Indigenous modernities in Guatemala, offers important approaches to interpreting this challenging novel by showing how Guatemala’s colonial legacy cannot escape its racial overtones and sexual undertones as the nation-state struggles to find a suitable place in the modern world.
De Lión manages to tell this volatile story by blending several modes, moods, and voices so that the novel never falls into the expected narrative line. It wrenches the reader’s sense of time and identity by refusing the conventions of voice and character to depict a new, multi-layered periphery. This novel demands that we leave preconceptions about indigenous culture at the front cover and be ready to come out the other side not only with a completely different understanding of indigeneity in Latin America, but also with a much wider understanding of how supposedly peripheral peoples actually impact the modern world.
The first translation into English of this thought-provoking novel includes a conluding essay by the translator suggesting that a helpful approach for the reader might be to see the work as enacting the never-quite-there poetics of translation underlying Guatemala’s indigenous heart. An afterword by Arturo Arias, the leading thinker on Indigenous modernities in Guatemala, offers important approaches to interpreting this challenging novel by showing how Guatemala’s colonial legacy cannot escape its racial overtones and sexual undertones as the nation-state struggles to find a suitable place in the modern world.
119 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1985
12 people are currently reading
258 people want to read
About the author
Luis de Lión
12 books4 followersBorn into a Kaqchikel Maya family, his father's work as a policeman during the rule of dictator Jorge Ubico enabled him to receive basic education. He completed his studies in Guatemala City, graduating with a teaching certification in primary education.
He worked as a teacher in various places in Guatemala until he was made a professor of literature at Universidad de San Carlos de Guatemala. As a leader of the communist Partido Guatemalteco del Trabajo ("Guatemalan Workers' Party"), he promoted universal access to quality education as a means to improve the quality of life of the Guatemalan people. In San Juan del Obispo, the village near Antigua Guatemala where he was born, he founded a small library in which he taught literacy to his former neighbours.
On May 15, 1984, while he was driving to work in the Centro Histórico [es] of Guatemala City, a group of armed plainclothes men forced him into an unmarked car. He joined the ranks of more than 30,000 citizens "disappeared" by the military rulers of Guatemala during the 1980s as part of the Guatemalan Civil War. Nothing was known of his fate until 1999 when his name appeared in Diario Militar, a document published in Harper's Magazine containing photographs and information on the capture and execution of 183 people, and in which he was listed as number 135. From this source, it became known that he had been killed on June 6, 1984, about three weeks after his abduction.
Luis de Lión's literary reputation was established with the posthumous publication of his only novel, El tiempo principia en Xibalbá in 1985, in which he relates a Mayan worldview in contemporary language.
La Casa Museo Luis de Lión in San Juan del Obispo preserves the author's work and exhibits his personal effects, including books and notes, as well as maintaining the library that he founded in 1962.
In 2005, the government of Guatemala under President Óscar Berger officially acknowledged responsibility for the death of Luis de Lión.
Source: Wikipedia
He worked as a teacher in various places in Guatemala until he was made a professor of literature at Universidad de San Carlos de Guatemala. As a leader of the communist Partido Guatemalteco del Trabajo ("Guatemalan Workers' Party"), he promoted universal access to quality education as a means to improve the quality of life of the Guatemalan people. In San Juan del Obispo, the village near Antigua Guatemala where he was born, he founded a small library in which he taught literacy to his former neighbours.
On May 15, 1984, while he was driving to work in the Centro Histórico [es] of Guatemala City, a group of armed plainclothes men forced him into an unmarked car. He joined the ranks of more than 30,000 citizens "disappeared" by the military rulers of Guatemala during the 1980s as part of the Guatemalan Civil War. Nothing was known of his fate until 1999 when his name appeared in Diario Militar, a document published in Harper's Magazine containing photographs and information on the capture and execution of 183 people, and in which he was listed as number 135. From this source, it became known that he had been killed on June 6, 1984, about three weeks after his abduction.
Luis de Lión's literary reputation was established with the posthumous publication of his only novel, El tiempo principia en Xibalbá in 1985, in which he relates a Mayan worldview in contemporary language.
La Casa Museo Luis de Lión in San Juan del Obispo preserves the author's work and exhibits his personal effects, including books and notes, as well as maintaining the library that he founded in 1962.
In 2005, the government of Guatemala under President Óscar Berger officially acknowledged responsibility for the death of Luis de Lión.
Source: Wikipedia
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April 18, 2016
Rating: 3.8* of five
The Publisher Says: Time Commences in Xibalbá tells the story of a violent village crisis in Guatemala sparked by the return of a prodigal son, Pascual. He had been raised tough by a poor, single mother in the village before going off with the military. When Pascual comes back, he is changed—both scarred and “enlightened” by his experiences. To his eyes, the village has remained frozen in time. After experiencing alternative cultures in the wider world, he finds that he is both comforted and disgusted by the village’s lingering “indigenous” characteristics.
De Lión manages to tell this volatile story by blending several modes, moods, and voices so that the novel never falls into the expected narrative line. It wrenches the reader’s sense of time and identity by refusing the conventions of voice and character to depict a new, multi-layered periphery. This novel demands that we leave preconceptions about indigenous culture at the front cover and be ready to come out the other side not only with a completely different understanding of indigeneity in Latin America, but also with a much wider understanding of how supposedly peripheral peoples actually impact the modern world.
The first translation into English of this thought-provoking novel includes a concluding essay by the translator suggesting that a helpful approach for the reader might be to see the work as enacting the never-quite-there poetics of translation underlying Guatemala’s indigenous heart. An afterword by Arturo Arias, the leading thinker on Indigenous modernities in Guatemala, offers important approaches to interpreting this challenging novel by showing how Guatemala’s colonial legacy cannot escape its racial overtones and sexual undertones as the nation-state struggles to find a suitable place in the modern world.
My Review: Eighty-two pages of story; fifteen pages of Translator's Introduction; twenty-five pages of academic essay placing the story and the author into context for the American student.
If you're still reading at this point, you're one tough bugger. The essays are fine, if you're in the mood for academic prose and a discussion of the merits of psychosexual colonial identity theft. I think that's what it's about. The essay, that is.
I don't pretend to know what the story itself is about. Pascual, the main character, is a proper shit of a person, the village that grounds the novel is made up of silly gits, mean girls, a few sluts, one gay guy who lusts after Pascual and is called Hen, not Juan, when the two are alone.
It makes sense in context, I promise.
The village, the real purpose for the story of Pascual, is enchanted and enchanting in the traditional Latin American magical realist way. There's a wind at the beginning of the book...the description can't be excerpted, I'm not up for that much typing...and there are any number of sun-rising-in-the-west moments that make the story itself feel more like a retold folk tale than a novella. (Which this is, despite the insistence of the academics that it's a novel.)
It's a short, interesting moment in Guatemalan cultural studies. It's got some lovely imagery, and it's got copious annotations explaining the concepts that periodic Spanish words connote. It's lyrical in measure, it's beautifully proofread (and isn't it sad as all hell that I mention that in a review?), and I can't quite give it four stars because I don't feel one bit moved to learn more of these characters. I'm incurious. And a big part of that is the brevity wrought by the author's choice of length. More, please. This iteration of the tale is worthy and is even pleasurable in spots. But it just never quite reaches the empyrean blue that's clearly within the author's native grasp.
Read it, by all means, you of Hispanic-colonial descent, to learn how the Maya survived...for you of leftward-leaning politics, it's an endorsement of your smug dismissal of post-colonial guilt-shedding so in vogue. The majority of the readerly public isn't likely to clasp the book to their collective bosom.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
The Publisher Says: Time Commences in Xibalbá tells the story of a violent village crisis in Guatemala sparked by the return of a prodigal son, Pascual. He had been raised tough by a poor, single mother in the village before going off with the military. When Pascual comes back, he is changed—both scarred and “enlightened” by his experiences. To his eyes, the village has remained frozen in time. After experiencing alternative cultures in the wider world, he finds that he is both comforted and disgusted by the village’s lingering “indigenous” characteristics.
De Lión manages to tell this volatile story by blending several modes, moods, and voices so that the novel never falls into the expected narrative line. It wrenches the reader’s sense of time and identity by refusing the conventions of voice and character to depict a new, multi-layered periphery. This novel demands that we leave preconceptions about indigenous culture at the front cover and be ready to come out the other side not only with a completely different understanding of indigeneity in Latin America, but also with a much wider understanding of how supposedly peripheral peoples actually impact the modern world.
The first translation into English of this thought-provoking novel includes a concluding essay by the translator suggesting that a helpful approach for the reader might be to see the work as enacting the never-quite-there poetics of translation underlying Guatemala’s indigenous heart. An afterword by Arturo Arias, the leading thinker on Indigenous modernities in Guatemala, offers important approaches to interpreting this challenging novel by showing how Guatemala’s colonial legacy cannot escape its racial overtones and sexual undertones as the nation-state struggles to find a suitable place in the modern world.
My Review: Eighty-two pages of story; fifteen pages of Translator's Introduction; twenty-five pages of academic essay placing the story and the author into context for the American student.
If you're still reading at this point, you're one tough bugger. The essays are fine, if you're in the mood for academic prose and a discussion of the merits of psychosexual colonial identity theft. I think that's what it's about. The essay, that is.
I don't pretend to know what the story itself is about. Pascual, the main character, is a proper shit of a person, the village that grounds the novel is made up of silly gits, mean girls, a few sluts, one gay guy who lusts after Pascual and is called Hen, not Juan, when the two are alone.
It makes sense in context, I promise.
The village, the real purpose for the story of Pascual, is enchanted and enchanting in the traditional Latin American magical realist way. There's a wind at the beginning of the book...the description can't be excerpted, I'm not up for that much typing...and there are any number of sun-rising-in-the-west moments that make the story itself feel more like a retold folk tale than a novella. (Which this is, despite the insistence of the academics that it's a novel.)
It's a short, interesting moment in Guatemalan cultural studies. It's got some lovely imagery, and it's got copious annotations explaining the concepts that periodic Spanish words connote. It's lyrical in measure, it's beautifully proofread (and isn't it sad as all hell that I mention that in a review?), and I can't quite give it four stars because I don't feel one bit moved to learn more of these characters. I'm incurious. And a big part of that is the brevity wrought by the author's choice of length. More, please. This iteration of the tale is worthy and is even pleasurable in spots. But it just never quite reaches the empyrean blue that's clearly within the author's native grasp.
Read it, by all means, you of Hispanic-colonial descent, to learn how the Maya survived...for you of leftward-leaning politics, it's an endorsement of your smug dismissal of post-colonial guilt-shedding so in vogue. The majority of the readerly public isn't likely to clasp the book to their collective bosom.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
November 13, 2021
Luis de Lion habla de ser indio abiertamente y sin tapujos. Tanto así que, a los que somos ladinos y estamos condicionados a no referirnos a los indígenas de esa manera, nos choca. Pero no es eso lo que hace controversial este libro. Lo polémico es que aquí se enredan las historias de dos mujeres, una real y la otra ideal: la puta del pueblo y la Virgen de Concepción, donde la primera se convierte en virgen y la otra se convierte en puta. Ninguna con más protagonismo que la otra, pero ambas vinculadas a un mismo hombre.
Pascual regresa al pueblo frustrado y resentido, después de muchos años fuera, donde descubre, para su desgracia, que es despreciado por el color de su piel, por ser indio. Pascual sufre de una crisis de identidad. Busca mujer pero no le gustan las del pueblo, las que comparten su raza; aspira a la belleza de la Virgen en la iglesia, por su tez blanca y sus facciones delicadas.
De Lion coloca genialmente el prólogo al final, dándole a este relato un carácter eterno, redondo, donde no hay principio ni final porque todo se repite, las mismas historias y con los mismos personajes, porque así somos los humanos, actuando las mismas historias una y otra vez, siguiendo los mismos patrones y arquetipos. Xibalbá, según el Popol Vuh, es el inframundo. De Lion propone que todos descendemos a Xibalbá, o sea, que todos llegamos a conocer el infierno, solo que cada quién dándole su matiz individual. Quizá entonces funciona así: nacemos, descendemos, morimos, ascendemos. Repetir.
De Lion utiliza el realismo mágico para darle carácter al pueblo, al aire, a los animales y a los árboles. Se aventura en temas atrevidos y eternos, como el sexo, la pasión, la devoción, el racismo y la identidad. Algunos lo tacharán de blasfemo. Pero vale la pena leer este relato precisamente porque toca temas que en Guatemala se discuten poco, o a voz baja, aun ahora, más de 30 años después de haber sido escrito. El lenguaje de De Lion es bello y fluido. Algunas de sus oraciones son tan exquisitas que me obligaron a detenerme para releerlas en voz alta y así poderlas apreciar mejor. Miren nomás cómo comienzan las primeras líneas de esta novela:
Léanlo, especialmente si son guatemaltecos. Y no se pierdan la introducción que hace Mario Roberto Morales, amigo de De Lion. Me pareció interesantísima la descripción del indio como alguien que se niega a sí mismo, deseando y a la vez rechazando al ladino y su opresión, real o imaginaria.
Pascual regresa al pueblo frustrado y resentido, después de muchos años fuera, donde descubre, para su desgracia, que es despreciado por el color de su piel, por ser indio. Pascual sufre de una crisis de identidad. Busca mujer pero no le gustan las del pueblo, las que comparten su raza; aspira a la belleza de la Virgen en la iglesia, por su tez blanca y sus facciones delicadas.
“…en la ciudá [sic] los hombres de aquí buscan en las ladinas la cara de la Virgen, aquí buscan en la Virgen la cara de las ladinas. Por eso la Virgen es la Reina, y ellas la Niña tal, la Seño tal. En cambio nosotras somos la Juana, la Concha, la Venancia. ¡Las gallinas del patio!”
De Lion coloca genialmente el prólogo al final, dándole a este relato un carácter eterno, redondo, donde no hay principio ni final porque todo se repite, las mismas historias y con los mismos personajes, porque así somos los humanos, actuando las mismas historias una y otra vez, siguiendo los mismos patrones y arquetipos. Xibalbá, según el Popol Vuh, es el inframundo. De Lion propone que todos descendemos a Xibalbá, o sea, que todos llegamos a conocer el infierno, solo que cada quién dándole su matiz individual. Quizá entonces funciona así: nacemos, descendemos, morimos, ascendemos. Repetir.
De Lion utiliza el realismo mágico para darle carácter al pueblo, al aire, a los animales y a los árboles. Se aventura en temas atrevidos y eternos, como el sexo, la pasión, la devoción, el racismo y la identidad. Algunos lo tacharán de blasfemo. Pero vale la pena leer este relato precisamente porque toca temas que en Guatemala se discuten poco, o a voz baja, aun ahora, más de 30 años después de haber sido escrito. El lenguaje de De Lion es bello y fluido. Algunas de sus oraciones son tan exquisitas que me obligaron a detenerme para releerlas en voz alta y así poderlas apreciar mejor. Miren nomás cómo comienzan las primeras líneas de esta novela:
“Llegó como jugando, brincando por todas partes, sacudiéndoles los pantalones tierrosos a los hombres cansados, aburridos, asueñados; rascándoles la panza a los patojos; metiéndose debajo de las naguas de las mujeres, lamiéndoles las canillas chorriadas [sic], estacudas. –Ve qué aire más baboso– dijo una.”
Léanlo, especialmente si son guatemaltecos. Y no se pierdan la introducción que hace Mario Roberto Morales, amigo de De Lion. Me pareció interesantísima la descripción del indio como alguien que se niega a sí mismo, deseando y a la vez rechazando al ladino y su opresión, real o imaginaria.
December 7, 2013
Mi libro favorito del 2013. El rapto de la Virgen de la Concepción a manos de un indígena. Un relato transgresor escrito con un lenguaje sugerente y, a la vez, agresivo. En San Juan el Obispo debieran erigirle un monumento a Luis de Lión.
June 26, 2025
jajajajaja qué acabo de leer?!?!?!
No tengo duda del gran libro que es este escrito, me encantó la maleabilidad del lenguaje y lo que su autor hizo en sus páginas.
Es poderoso, incómodo, bello y... difícil, la neta - por lo menos para mí-
Necesito reposarlo, descansar las volteretas que me hizo hacer su viento todo poderoso.
Tengo que releerlo 2 veces más
No tengo duda del gran libro que es este escrito, me encantó la maleabilidad del lenguaje y lo que su autor hizo en sus páginas.
Es poderoso, incómodo, bello y... difícil, la neta - por lo menos para mí-
Necesito reposarlo, descansar las volteretas que me hizo hacer su viento todo poderoso.
Tengo que releerlo 2 veces más
July 14, 2017
Un libro bastante imponente desdw el principo y que seguro todavía causa polémica por los temas que aborda, me gustó mucho, una excelente perspectiva sobre los pueblos indígenas y sus luchas desde adentro.
May 9, 2025
Me vuela la cabeza siempre que alguien te cuenta el mundo desde sus ojos. La facilidad con la que Luis de Lion te explica otra realidad con su lenguaje tan guatemalteco y su rigor antropológico es admirable. Disfruto mucho como usa el español de forma tan poética. Luis nos cuenta en su novela lo que significa en Guatemala ser “indio”, los rezagos del adoctrinamiento religioso colonial, las preocupaciones y problemáticas del imaginario colectivo, y el deseo de ser “ladino”. Una denuncia a la constante opresión que sufren los pueblos originarios en la sociedad guatemalteca, particularmente en el “deep rural” chapin.
El 15 de mayo de 1984, Luis fue secuestrado y desaparecido por el gobierno militar de los años 80s. Nos faltan el y 50.000 desaparecidos mas. Hasta el día de hoy no se conoce su paradero, exigimos justicia. Ni olvido, ni perdono. El caso del diario militar sigue inconcluso y la justicia hace todo para desmantelarlo, garantizando la impunidad de los criminales. NO MÁS SILENCIO, NO MÁS OLVIDO! ¿DONDE ESTÁN?
El 15 de mayo de 1984, Luis fue secuestrado y desaparecido por el gobierno militar de los años 80s. Nos faltan el y 50.000 desaparecidos mas. Hasta el día de hoy no se conoce su paradero, exigimos justicia. Ni olvido, ni perdono. El caso del diario militar sigue inconcluso y la justicia hace todo para desmantelarlo, garantizando la impunidad de los criminales. NO MÁS SILENCIO, NO MÁS OLVIDO! ¿DONDE ESTÁN?
May 25, 2020
I highly recommend reading this book! The story features: a liberated woman, and two men, one homosexual, the other heterosexual all living in the confines of a small community. While the author’s focus is on Indian culture, the societal dynamics portrayed are easily comprehended when compared to any other small South and North American community. Although commentators of the novel may equate the story to the prejudices of the indigenous people, their ancient religion, the undue influence of Spain, Catholicism, and Eurocentric geopolitics, all these and the literary techniques Lion uses make the story timeless. Upon finishing the novel, the reader learns the story is circular. Xibalba is cyclic and the reader can start and finish with any chapter. The skill of Lion is comparable to James Joyce. The execution of the author, Luis de Lion, by a Guatemala military death squad leaves an irreplaceable gap in the production of current works of literature for the world.
January 9, 2015
Un libro bastante interesante, su trama es fuerte aunque yo a veces me perdía sobre que personaje estaban narrando, sentí que los sucesos estaban revueltos, recuerdos mezclados con el presente (supongo que al reelerlo le agarrare el hilo a la historioa). Lo que más me gusto es como Luis de Lión decide representar la concepción de indígena, la concepción del indígena visto desde un indígena ordinario. Siento que en la literatura guatemalteca hace falta eso.
October 16, 2024
Interesante. Una novela que aborda temas similares a “Los recuerdos del porvenir”, desde otras perspectivas.
January 1, 2024
What an amazing journey this read was. I had the privilege to buy this book from Luis de Leon’s daughter, Mayarí, and hear her story and her father’s story who was disappeared in Guatemala.
It was powerful and moving to read in Spanish and hear the indigenous community come throughout the story and essays. Luis’ command of the language and his storytelling never ceased to amaze me.
It was powerful and moving to read in Spanish and hear the indigenous community come throughout the story and essays. Luis’ command of the language and his storytelling never ceased to amaze me.
Read
March 3, 2024"en la cuidá los hombres de aquí buscan en las ladinas la cara de la Virgen, aquí buscan en la Virgen la cara de las ladinas. Por eso la Virgen es la Reina y ellas la niña tal, la Seño tal. En cambio, nosotras somos la Juana, la Concha, la Venancia. ¡Las gallinas del patio!"
***
"El viento abría y cerraba las puertas, eran por gusto las trancas, las llaves, los candados; el viento rompía los cercos, despedazaba los techos de paja, se llevaba las hojas de lámina, quebraba las tejas, se metía debajo de las camas, llenaba de tierra todo, se revolcaba entre las ollas, las quebraba, mataba a las gallinas, rasaba la ropa de la gente, mordía la carne y sobaba su lengua áspera y roma hasta más allá del corazón, en el mero fondo de la vida. Acurrucada, amontonada, la gente grande escondía a los patojos...algunos mejor se dejaban caer al suelo para no ser abatidos..."
***
"El viento abría y cerraba las puertas, eran por gusto las trancas, las llaves, los candados; el viento rompía los cercos, despedazaba los techos de paja, se llevaba las hojas de lámina, quebraba las tejas, se metía debajo de las camas, llenaba de tierra todo, se revolcaba entre las ollas, las quebraba, mataba a las gallinas, rasaba la ropa de la gente, mordía la carne y sobaba su lengua áspera y roma hasta más allá del corazón, en el mero fondo de la vida. Acurrucada, amontonada, la gente grande escondía a los patojos...algunos mejor se dejaban caer al suelo para no ser abatidos..."
March 30, 2013
Esta es, definitivamente, mi novela guatemalteca preferida.
May 14, 2024
Un relato con toda la magia de la literatura indigenista. Tiene tintes de Miguel Ángel Asturias, Ciro Alegría y Juan Rulfo. Lectura obligatoria para conocer las letras guatemaltecas.
February 14, 2026
It is as if the violently erotic echoes of colonialism and indigeneity push forth so forcefully that they cause a deafness; a stunting of time, sound, and movement, and what the reader is left with is a space where indigenous people live but do not necessarily exist. We are presented with a space where indigenous life takes place, but beneath the shadow of a frenzied death force.
In my opinion, the language, imagery, and structure of this book make it a masterpiece. The author refuses to conform. Maybe it's because he has seen so much conformity and its results that he dares not proliferate any of it himself. Excerpts like this serve as evidence:
“You remember that for a good while there you would visit her when she was alone; that you would frequent the cofradía house where she was; that you would say you were just going because you needed to pray for a miracle; that you would take her flowers, candles of different kinds; that you had declared your love for her in silence; that you wished she would answer you; that, back at your house, you dreamed about her, naked in your bed; that you felt her, heard her start to pant, and then cum; that you would taste her and, not even thinking about whether she was a virgin or a mother or a whore, but thinking she was a white woman, a Ladina, a woman from the other side, from that other race, the race you wanted to become a part of by way of your wealth, by way of the whiteness of your house, of your soul; and despite the Indian-ness of your face, your Mongolian spot, and your hair. You remember, one time, you said that with her you would have a child: a brother of the mother of the invader of these lands, a divine mestizo, even though later he would deny you were his father. Remember: that, because you knew a union between you and her was impossible—what with the wood and all—, you searched in the city for a relative of hers who would love you; that you sought out many of them; that you told them you had land, money, a nice house in your town; remember that they all rejected you, that they wouldn’t even look at you, that only the ones in the cantinas would so much as listen to you, but that even they called you: ¡Indian!; and that was when you chose this one, who will talk to you; who will listen to you, who loved you and who could still love you again; this one, who is an Indian, but at least she has the name and the nickname of the one you worshipped; this one, but you didn’t choose her to be your woman but to be your servant (80-81).”
One interesting aspect of this book is that the analysis at the end is almost as fulfilling as the text itself. This is not only because the analysis provided some cohesion, but also because it offered cultural, historical, and literary context that untangles and fills in the body of understanding for the disorienting tale.
In an odd coincidence, as I read parts of the analysis at the end, I learned that Time Commences in Xibalba exists within the intertextual universe of the Popol Wuj (Popol Vuh). The coincidence lay in the fact that I had started reading the Popol Vuh shortly before Luis de Lion’s masterpiece, and I only noticed the connection as I began hearing the name and concept of Xibalba reverberate between the braided reading experience. What a compliment it was to read them at the same time. Although I couldn't make the connection beyond the name of Xibalba, the scholars who explained the link later on did so astutely, which added to the story’s richness upon reflection.
The overall reading experience was great because of the rich prose, the story's uniqueness and complexity, and the scholarly effort to explain the book's context. This reading was also special because it was my first venture into modern Guatemalan literature. Something especially special as I delve into the culture of my maternal grandmother's side.
In my opinion, the language, imagery, and structure of this book make it a masterpiece. The author refuses to conform. Maybe it's because he has seen so much conformity and its results that he dares not proliferate any of it himself. Excerpts like this serve as evidence:
“You remember that for a good while there you would visit her when she was alone; that you would frequent the cofradía house where she was; that you would say you were just going because you needed to pray for a miracle; that you would take her flowers, candles of different kinds; that you had declared your love for her in silence; that you wished she would answer you; that, back at your house, you dreamed about her, naked in your bed; that you felt her, heard her start to pant, and then cum; that you would taste her and, not even thinking about whether she was a virgin or a mother or a whore, but thinking she was a white woman, a Ladina, a woman from the other side, from that other race, the race you wanted to become a part of by way of your wealth, by way of the whiteness of your house, of your soul; and despite the Indian-ness of your face, your Mongolian spot, and your hair. You remember, one time, you said that with her you would have a child: a brother of the mother of the invader of these lands, a divine mestizo, even though later he would deny you were his father. Remember: that, because you knew a union between you and her was impossible—what with the wood and all—, you searched in the city for a relative of hers who would love you; that you sought out many of them; that you told them you had land, money, a nice house in your town; remember that they all rejected you, that they wouldn’t even look at you, that only the ones in the cantinas would so much as listen to you, but that even they called you: ¡Indian!; and that was when you chose this one, who will talk to you; who will listen to you, who loved you and who could still love you again; this one, who is an Indian, but at least she has the name and the nickname of the one you worshipped; this one, but you didn’t choose her to be your woman but to be your servant (80-81).”
One interesting aspect of this book is that the analysis at the end is almost as fulfilling as the text itself. This is not only because the analysis provided some cohesion, but also because it offered cultural, historical, and literary context that untangles and fills in the body of understanding for the disorienting tale.
In an odd coincidence, as I read parts of the analysis at the end, I learned that Time Commences in Xibalba exists within the intertextual universe of the Popol Wuj (Popol Vuh). The coincidence lay in the fact that I had started reading the Popol Vuh shortly before Luis de Lion’s masterpiece, and I only noticed the connection as I began hearing the name and concept of Xibalba reverberate between the braided reading experience. What a compliment it was to read them at the same time. Although I couldn't make the connection beyond the name of Xibalba, the scholars who explained the link later on did so astutely, which added to the story’s richness upon reflection.
The overall reading experience was great because of the rich prose, the story's uniqueness and complexity, and the scholarly effort to explain the book's context. This reading was also special because it was my first venture into modern Guatemalan literature. Something especially special as I delve into the culture of my maternal grandmother's side.
January 16, 2023
Pedro Páramo con un twist chapín. Verdadero exponente del realismo mágico tan propio de Latinomérica. Y como dice el dicho, en Guatemala, hasta se ven muertos acarrear basura.
Un pueblo pequeño, San Juan del Obispo, reune todas las imágenes características de un pueblo indígena en el centro-occidente del país. Luis de Lion es un indígena sin tapujos, y ofrece esa voz que rara vez resuena el la literatura nacional. Al igual que Pedro Páramo, la historia da saltos espacio-temporales.
Creo que de Lion juega con dualidades, como si los personajes fuesen bipolares, las caras de una misma moneda. Pascual el hijo pródigo y temido, Juan el benefactor del pueblo, Concha la puta hecha virgen a la fuerza, y la Virgen de la Concepción, una estatua de palo vuelta puta. Buena parte de la trama explora el racismo del país. Y es que Guatemala es un pueblo profundamente racista. Pascual se desespera porque en su pueblo todas son indias, pero al salir, se da cuenta que en la ciudá lo hacen de menos precisamente por ser indio. El dilema de ser y no ser parte de un país.
de Lion trata de transmitir parte de esa angustia. Pero de Lion es brillante y se ahorra los melodramas y sermones, sin caer en cinismo. Todo es un ciclo. Nacemos, morimos, volvemos a nacer. Ciertamente en Guatemala pareciera que la historia se mueve en círculos. En su momento releeré. Al igual que Pedro Páramo, hasta la 3er lectura finalmente uno puede decir que ha leído el libro.
Un pueblo pequeño, San Juan del Obispo, reune todas las imágenes características de un pueblo indígena en el centro-occidente del país. Luis de Lion es un indígena sin tapujos, y ofrece esa voz que rara vez resuena el la literatura nacional. Al igual que Pedro Páramo, la historia da saltos espacio-temporales.
Creo que de Lion juega con dualidades, como si los personajes fuesen bipolares, las caras de una misma moneda. Pascual el hijo pródigo y temido, Juan el benefactor del pueblo, Concha la puta hecha virgen a la fuerza, y la Virgen de la Concepción, una estatua de palo vuelta puta. Buena parte de la trama explora el racismo del país. Y es que Guatemala es un pueblo profundamente racista. Pascual se desespera porque en su pueblo todas son indias, pero al salir, se da cuenta que en la ciudá lo hacen de menos precisamente por ser indio. El dilema de ser y no ser parte de un país.
de Lion trata de transmitir parte de esa angustia. Pero de Lion es brillante y se ahorra los melodramas y sermones, sin caer en cinismo. Todo es un ciclo. Nacemos, morimos, volvemos a nacer. Ciertamente en Guatemala pareciera que la historia se mueve en círculos. En su momento releeré. Al igual que Pedro Páramo, hasta la 3er lectura finalmente uno puede decir que ha leído el libro.
November 21, 2018
Ambicioso, polémico, tabú, reflexivo, pueden ser alguno de los calificativos para este libro. Una opera prima del autor, que, ojalá, hubiera tenido tiempo para seguir desarrollando el género.
A pesar de saber que el relato es sobre indios, me costaba mucho imaginar el contexto e insistía en imaginar un pueblo ladino, y querer juzgarlo desde mi perspectiva ladina.
Muestra que los conflictos internos y personales, están influenciados por la opresión y las formas de dominación que durante siglos se ha ejercido sobre los pueblos autóctonos, principalmente guiados a través de cambiar sus ritos y su ideosincrasia.
La narrativa está claramente influenciada por MA Asturias, aunque se nota el esfuerzo por despegarse y hacer un relato propio, hay rasgos que lo influencian que no se pueden esconder.
A pesar de saber que el relato es sobre indios, me costaba mucho imaginar el contexto e insistía en imaginar un pueblo ladino, y querer juzgarlo desde mi perspectiva ladina.
Muestra que los conflictos internos y personales, están influenciados por la opresión y las formas de dominación que durante siglos se ha ejercido sobre los pueblos autóctonos, principalmente guiados a través de cambiar sus ritos y su ideosincrasia.
La narrativa está claramente influenciada por MA Asturias, aunque se nota el esfuerzo por despegarse y hacer un relato propio, hay rasgos que lo influencian que no se pueden esconder.
May 31, 2024
Este libro lo adquirí en una visita a Guatemala, quería conocer más de la literatura guatemalteca y esta novela aparecía como una de las más importantes. Creo que es de esas novelas que tienen más relevancia por su contexto y por la poderosa historia de su autor, que por la novela misma.
Inspirado en Asturias y Juan Rulfo, Luis de Lión escribe esta novela de realismo mágico, ubicada entre la vida y la muerte, la identidad indígena y ladina, el erotismo y la hipocresía de una religión que busca someter a personajes que viven sus propios tormentos y recuerdos en el día a día de un pueblo destinado a borrarse.
Inspirado en Asturias y Juan Rulfo, Luis de Lión escribe esta novela de realismo mágico, ubicada entre la vida y la muerte, la identidad indígena y ladina, el erotismo y la hipocresía de una religión que busca someter a personajes que viven sus propios tormentos y recuerdos en el día a día de un pueblo destinado a borrarse.
July 22, 2024
4.5
Una novela que describe dos culturas, indígenas y mestizos, en un pueblo de Guatemala. Con una narrativa diferente, que inicia con el soplo del viento y nos va describiendo los paisaje, también nos cuenta cómo es regresar al pueblo. Esas personas que vuelven son diferentes, visten con otras ropas, le rezan a otros dioses, hablan distinto. Mientras en el pueblo se roban a la Virgen, esa mujer ladina, blanca, no indígena, algunas personas la veneran por su color y olor. Podemos comprender la batalla cultural detrás de ese robo y de ese regreso al pueblo.
Una novela interesante. La recomiendo bastante.
Una novela que describe dos culturas, indígenas y mestizos, en un pueblo de Guatemala. Con una narrativa diferente, que inicia con el soplo del viento y nos va describiendo los paisaje, también nos cuenta cómo es regresar al pueblo. Esas personas que vuelven son diferentes, visten con otras ropas, le rezan a otros dioses, hablan distinto. Mientras en el pueblo se roban a la Virgen, esa mujer ladina, blanca, no indígena, algunas personas la veneran por su color y olor. Podemos comprender la batalla cultural detrás de ese robo y de ese regreso al pueblo.
Una novela interesante. La recomiendo bastante.
August 27, 2021
Cuando el gallo se echa a poner huevos es cuando principia el tiempo del humano. Sin Lion estaría perdido en un mundo de letras sin dolor, imágenes que se inoculan en el ser, pesadillas que quebrantanhuesos y miembros tendidos al aire. Lion es un Ave espiritual de mi tierra, un fruto que aún no alimenta a su gente. ¿Quién lo entiende? Este es el hombre de maíz que jamás pudo haber soñado Asturias, se quedó corto de realidad... Ni su Judas, ni sus brujos, ni su onanismo de patojo. Lion es un jaguar, en realidad.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 1, 2025
Un libro atrevido, que no teme cuestionar la posición del indígena en Guatemala, la posición del hombre indígena sobre la mujer ladina y sobre la mujer india y el sistema ladino, católico impuesto e invasor.
Escatológico, sexual, vulgar, irónica, blasfemo, surrealista y mágico. Con esas palabras describiría este libro y me quedaría corto. Una joya bellemente escrita y una estructura particular.
Primero fue el viento, nos dice Luis de Lión, al principio y al final que también es el principio.
Escatológico, sexual, vulgar, irónica, blasfemo, surrealista y mágico. Con esas palabras describiría este libro y me quedaría corto. Una joya bellemente escrita y una estructura particular.
Primero fue el viento, nos dice Luis de Lión, al principio y al final que también es el principio.
January 1, 2019
Um estranho realismo, uma história de uma aldeia guatemalteca quase maldita, quase como qualquer outra perdida e esquecida do “progresso”. Pelo meio demasiados episódios sexuais, como se fosse essa a base da história. Quanto a especificidade índio/ladina não percebi bem, os aspectos universais da história (semelhanças com outros contextos rurais) são mais preponderantes.
September 30, 2025
"Pueblo de mierda, ni siquiera una nueva calle inventa, ni un nuevo apellido, ni una nueva cara, ni una nueva manera de enamorar, ni de chupar, ni de vestir. [...] ,ni siquiera un nuevo nacimiento puede ser una nueva historia porque parece como si la vida del muerto se repitiera en el recién vivo."
Luis De Lión - El Tiempo Principia En Xibalbá
Luis De Lión - El Tiempo Principia En Xibalbá
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
November 22, 2024
Maravillosa vista a un pueblo. Tiene un poco de Pedro Páramo, pero en un pueblo habitado con todos sus conflictos y personajes. Como el viento del comienzo, el hilo de la historia entra y sale de casas y lugares para contar pequeños detalles e historias.
March 23, 2019
Una maravilla. Es Pedro Páramo si Rulfo hubiera sido indígena en Guatemala, solo que mejor.
August 1, 2021
Qvatemala yazıçısı Luis de Lionun maya mifologiyasına göndərmələrlə zəngin yeganə romanı: "Zaman Şibalbedə başlayır". Təxminən "Pedro Paramo" və ya "Xəzər sözlüyü" dadında...
September 18, 2021
Es muy complicado de entender por su narrativa no lineal, pero el encanto es que juega con la mente del lector.
May 13, 2022
it turns out it's tough to have sex with your wife when you're an urban ladino who's lost connection to his indigenous heritage
August 21, 2024
Me gustó por descarnado, por atrevido y sincero.
Por ratos sentí que era el Gabo, pero principalmente sentí las palabras del maestro Arango!
Por ratos sentí que era el Gabo, pero principalmente sentí las palabras del maestro Arango!
May 25, 2025
Sabía que el libro iba a tratar en parte sobre el sexo, pero no esperaba que fuese el 90% en torno a eso
Es un libro que pretende ser crítico pero creo que se pierde mucho con todo el tema sexual
Es un libro que pretende ser crítico pero creo que se pierde mucho con todo el tema sexual
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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