Lefty “El Zurdo” Mendieta is the complicated homocide detective featured in the Elmer Mendoza novels I read in both English and Spanish. I describe him as complicated here because on the outside he appears handsome, competent and confident, but in Culiacán, Sinaloa, that doesn’t mean all that much. Appearances can be deceiving. The entire region is infested with Narco-Traficante violence and crime. In Mendoza’s novel, La Prueba del Acido, Lefty is caught in the middle of a major drug war between the Mexican government and the Narcos. Everywhere Lefty turns, someone is lying to him; whether it is a woman, man, friend, or foe. Nothing, he knows, is going to get any better. The violence and corruption is only escalating. He knows he will never know what love is from a woman. He knows he is dependent on alcohol, pills, and a psychaitrist that is never there when he needs him. In this novel, he's called to a crime scene to discover that the victim is his most recent lover. Not only has she been murdered, but she is mutiliated and left to bleed out in an open field. “Dark days are coming,” warns a cartel mafioso. Lefty could have said something back, but what is there to say in Culiacán, Mexico. Darkness is his business.
It's hard not to like Lefty. In this book, he has reached a point in his career where people know him and respect him. That’s because he is good at what he does. Somehow, he’s learned to develop a style and attitude to get things done and stay alive as everything crumbles around him. This may be because he hasn’t drifted far from the neighbohood he grew up in. Many of his friends he ran with as a youngster have moved into and upwards in the Narco trade. He maintains his connections. He knows it could have happened to him. His older brother, who he loves very much, disappeared from his life at an early age after being forced by gangsters to murder a priest. The brother crosses over to the United States never to be heard from again. Until now. In this book, Lefty, doesn’t learn the complete story of his brother until late in his life. It doesn’t matter. Sinaloa just doesn’t make sense.
Deep down, Lefty is Bad Ass. Macho. Violent. He’s not one to shy away from a fight from anyone. But, at the same time, he shows love and respect for the women in his life. When the mother of his teenage son pops into his life, he’s ready and willing to provide the support she needs - even though she had left him for the United States while she was still pregnant with the baby, never disclosing to him that they were Mother and Father. Gris, his partner in the Homicide Division, is young and beautiful, so she is always hassled by pendejos in the office. Lefty, who found her in the Parking Division, seems to admire her more for her courage and dedication to the job. He’s ready to step in and defend her when needed. He also wants her to be HAPPY. Trudis is his housekeeper and spiratual guide. She’s from the neighborhood. She knows what’s up when she finds him beaten up physically or mentally. For all the Macho, in Lefty, he listens to what she has to say.
In this novel, the woman that draws most of Lefty’s attention, is Mayra Cabral de Melo. She’s a Brazilian stripper, prostitute that works in the local Narco clubs. We don’t know how close or how long they were together, but Mayra occupies a special place in Lefty’s heart. She’s well-read and writes poetry in her diaries. You have to imagine that Mayra moves Lefty a long distance away from the violent world he lives in. That’s until he finds her dead and naked behind a warehouse in the middle of a tomato field. One of her nipples has been sliced off with a knife. Lefty is clearly DEVASTATED at the crime scene, but he can't let it show. He tells no one he was involved with the murder victim. This is when Lefty stops eating the delicious chicharones that Trudis prepares for his breakfasts and instead feasts on pills and whiskey.
I’m not writing a book report here. I can't write much without spoiling the story. I can say this: Lefty's complicated nature makes each of these novels a GOODREAD. Five years ago, when Covod first hit, I read in the New Yorker that the sales of guitars were rocketing through the roof. That’s because people felt trapped at home. They needed an escape. Music was the way. They learned how to occupy their free time by learning new chords on their guitars. I've been there and done that; instead, I chose to read Spanish-language novels. I like reading the Spanish version simultaneously with the English version, or vice versa. I usually read entire chapters at a time, and then go back and forth to confirm my understanding. On the cover of my Enlish-language Acid Test, Elmer Mendoza’s name is followed by “The Godfather of Lit." This may be true. He knows his way around Culiacán. I was first introduced to him by reading La Reina del Sur – the Queen of the South – a Spanish-language novel that followed the rise of a young woman from the streets of Culiacan to the top of a powerful Narco Drug Cartel. Author Arturo Arturo Pérez-Reverte credits his consultations with his friend Elmer Mendoza for the grim reality of the story. Since reading La Reina del Sur, I’ve read 4-5 Elmer Mendoza novels. TWICE – Once in English, and Once in Spanish. I can say I have read La Prueba del Acido THREE TIMES, since having discovered how to download the Spanish version on Itunes.
La Prueba del Acido took me a long time to read. Whatever I read in Spanish version of a novel, I try to annotate in my English version. This way, I find myself more focused and organized in my Spanish learning. I try to underline, circle, star(*) words and phrases I may be able to incorporate into my everyday language. I'll read a chapter in English, before I read in Spanish. Both my English-language and Spanish-language copies of my novels are marked up, HIGHLIGHTED, beyond recognition. But, poco a poco, I transfer my favorite phrases to my notebooks. Lately, I'm reading a lot of Elmer Mendoza. I see the same vocabulary and characters pop up in my reading. I'm using the dictionary less. I 'm sharing what I read with the Mexicans I know. That's a sign I'm immersing myself in both the reading and the culture.
When I’m not preparing lessons or grading student work, I’m studying Spanish. I take this time to get far away from my computer as I can. To avoid online distraction, I take my books and pens to a coffee shop, or VIPs, a nearby gasolinera; this place works for me. I like the large tables they have inside where I can spread out my study materials and drink my coffee. It’s not rare that I meet someone there from Sinaloa. When, they see me highlighting my books, they ask me if I’m studying the bible. Jaja. That’s when I tell them, “No, estoy estudiando Sinaloa.” This is where my real Spanish-language practice begins. We talk about Elmer Mendoza, Culiacán, and Narco Traficantes. I share with them knowledge I’ve picked up from my reading. From my novels I know about the food, music, culture, and the beaches in Mazatlán. I like talking to the Sinaloenses. Many of them have spent the greater parts of their lives in Mexicali, but their hearts remain in Sinaloa. I’m not sure they are all too conscious of it, but when they talk of their homeland they beat their chests two or three times in each conversation.
I often wonder about my favorite detective, Lefty Mendieta. In each novel, he is threatened, beaten, an on occasion, blown up. I often wonder why he doesn’t get the hell out of there. I mean, for him, it’s DARK. He just can’t leave. He can’t live anywhere else. I realize from Sinaloenses I meet here in the Gasolnera, it doesn’t matter how much Spanish I learn, as a Gringo, I will never feel or understand what they do. I can read it in their faces.
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