. . . y no se lo tragó la tierra /. . . And the Earth Did Not Devour Him by Tomás Rivera (review)

. . . y no se lo tragó la tierra, Tomás Rivera’s novel about the Mexican-American farmworker experience, is based much on his own childhood during the 1940s and the 1950s. It is often identified as one of the groundbreaking works of emerging Chicana/o literature that explores ethnic difference and collective identity. Since its original publication in Spanish in 1970, the novel has since been translated by Herminio Ríos C. as . . . and the earth did not devour him (1971), by Rivera’s colleague and close friend Rolando Hinojosa as The Migrant Earth (1987), and also by Evangelina Vigil-Piñon as, again, . . . and the earth did not devour him (Arte Público, 1988). The latter is considered to be the definitive translation.

The novel is divided into two sections, one in Spanish and the other in English, each composed of a series of thirteen vignettes interwoven throughout fourteen short stories. The fragmented narration and nonlinear form, often centered on a young male migrant worker, simulates the peripatetic nature and sense of displacement of the migrant experience. At the same time, the diverse perspectives and multiple voices also reflect a collective consciousness that proves to be a source of empowerment for the Chicana/o community.

The timeframe of the novel is revealed in the first vignette, “The Lost Year,” where the boy reflects on passing events before falling asleep. All subsequent sketches assume this similar dream-like quality and work together to create a pastiche of migrant life where mothers receive news about sons missing in action; comadres gossip about love affairs and work opportunities; and children question the purpose of attending school. Other similar examples include a school teacher wondering about a Hispanic student’s thoughtfulness and generosity; the townspeople’s angry reaction towards a selfish priest who charges them five dollars each to bless their cars; and multiple instances of racism against the migrant workers.

In “It was one hour before . . . ,” a boy is denied a haircut because the barbers will not provide service to Mexicans. While Rivera does not elaborate on the boy’s reaction, the heartbreak of the situation is made palpable through the author’s skillful portrayal. Similarly, humor is established in the sketch of a grandson telling his paralyzed grandfather that what he most wants in life is for the next ten years to pass by quickly so that “he would know what happened in his life” (106). Pride in tradition is beautifully described in the careful preparations of a wedding reception where the newly married couple lead a procession to their reception for food and dancing (115).

Less compressed but equally engaging are the fourteen short stories. “The Children Couldn’t Wait” refers to the death of a young worker whose miserly boss refuses workers water breaks; the boy is shot when the rancher catches him drinking from a cattle trough. “It’s That it Hurts” renders the boy’s embarrassment and frustration when he is sent to the corner by his teacher because he cannot read out loud. Afterwards on the playground, an Anglo boy taunts him by claiming that “all Mexicans steal,” and instigates a fistfight.

Probably most important is the chapter, “. . . And the Earth Did Not Devour Him,” that begins with the boy recounting his aunt and uncle’s stay at sanitariums for tuberculosis, and the sunstroke his father experienced after overworking himself in the hot fields. He remembers his mother crying often, and identifies this as the first time he felt hate and anger at not being able to comfort her, and not being able to control the circumstances of their lives. Frustrated by his mother’s seemingly pointless prayers, he articulates the thesis of the novel: “What’s to be gained from doing all that, Mother? How come we’re like this, like we’re buried alive? Either the germs eat...