PRAYERS FOR THE STOLEN by Jennifer Clement

Jennifer Clement, Prayers for the Stolen (London & New York: Hogarth, 2014).

(NOVEL)

Reviewed by Wilda Morris

“A missing woman is just another leaf that goes down the gutter in a rainstorm,” according to a minor character in Prayers for the Stolen by Jennifer Clement. The narrator says, “Nobody did anything as stupid as calling the police” when a woman or young girl disappeared. “Calling the police was like inviting a scorpion into your house.” There would be no justice for missing or dead females anyway unless they were the favored wives or daughters of powerful drug lords or politicians.

Prayers for the Stolen centers around four young girls (Ladydi, Paula, Maria and Estefani) living in a mountain jungle in the Mexican state of Guerrero and their families. Their community has been cut in two by a major highway. The local school is open when the federal government finds a teacher willing to risk life on the mountain for a few months. There are few ways of making a living and supporting a family, so virtually all the men make their way across the border to the US. Some send home money, at least for a while, but many end up abandoning their families in Mexico and start new ones in the North. It is not surprising that the wives in Guerrero are torn between bitterness toward their husbands and dreams that they will return.

Add to these problems the shadow cast over the community by powerful drug traffickers who traffic in beautiful young women as well as heroin. When a daughter is born, the mothers announce to everyone, “Thank God, a boy has been born.”  It is not surprising that Ladydi’s mother Rita, whose husband is in the US and no longer communicates with her, has three addictions (not counting anger and vengeance): alcohol, theft, and television—especially the History Channel. These are her only escapes from the hard-scrabble life on the mountain and fear for her daughters’ safety.

The heroine of this story of coming-of-age in the midst of social and economic chaos is Ladydi. Like quite a few other Mexican girls, she was named for Princes Diana—patron saint of wives of unfaithful men.

For several years, Rits dresses Ladydi in boys clothing and calls her “boy” as if that is her name. When Ladydi and her friends are too old for that ruse, their mothers get their hair cropped, darken their faces with charcoal and their teeth with markers—anything to make them look unattractive. They also dig holes in the ground big enough for their daughters to hide in if they see large black Cadillac Escalades coming up the mountain. “We were like rabbits that hid when there was a hungry stray dog in the field,” Ladydi says.

Rita tells her daughter that when a woman or girl disappears, she never returns and never writes a letter home. Very early in the book however, Ladydi’s friend Paula, known to be the most beautiful girl in the village, does come home a year after having been “stolen.” She is barefoot, has the words “Cannibal’s Baby” tattooed around her wrist, and has self-inflicted cigarette burns on her arm. She is in such a catatonic state that her mother cuddles her like an infant, gives her milk in a baby bottle, and feeds her Gerber baby food. As the book unfolds we learn some of what happed to Paula.

We also learn how Ladydi struggles to survive and thrive in this toxic environment, how it twists her life despite her courage and strength. We learn about Ladydi’s first love and small kindnesses that come from unexpected places. There are just enough unanswered questions to give me hope that there will be a sequel.

Sometimes when a book is published, someone will say, “Is this fiction or non-fiction? Is it a true story?” That is a fair question, but fiction is often truer than non-fiction. If you read the article on Guerrero in the on-line version of Britannica Encyclopedia, it will tell you about the history, geography and climate of that Mexican state. The Britannica does mention poverty, but it doesn’t mention emigration to the US although according to Wikipedia Guerrero ranks first among Mexican states in terms of immigration to the United States. A recent article in the Los Angeles Times says that Guerrero has the highest homicide rate in Mexico and the second highest rate of kidnapping. Collusion between politicians and narco-traffickers has been a part of the problem. I suggest that you will get a more accurate picture of what life is like for many families in Guerrero from Prayers for the Stolen than form the on-line Britannica Encyclopedia.

Clement grew up in Mexico and still lives there. She knows Mexican culture well.

If you click on Diane Rehm Interview with Jennifer Clement and then on “listen,” you can hear Diane Rehm discuss with Clement the years of research that went into this novel. Clement interviewed a number of women who were in jail as a result of having been stolen and forced into involvement with illegal activities. When she describes what it is like in the jail in Mexico City, she knows what she is talking about. When she describes Guerrero, she knows from personal experience how dangerous it is. She had to stop going there because of the risks.

Clement is a fine writer of both prose and poetry. Her prose style is sparse, both lyrical and tough. Her subject is horrific and suspenseful, but she manages to include enough humor to make the book readable. She is an expert at unexpected plot turns and unexpected metaphors. Sometimes her words take my breath away, as when she describes people gathered at the one place on the mountain where they could make and receive cell phones. Paula’s mother was there with the rest, hoping against hope that Paula would be able to call. Even Maria’s brother Mike, who had at least five cell phones, turned off his phones and the iPod that was almost always in his ears. “That day all anyone could hear was the silence of cell phones. That was it. It was the sound of Paula stolen.”

This may be the most important novel published in 2014. I highly recommend that you read it.