Article #549-1 | Gutenberg Articles

Excerpt

Excerpt from The Underdogs: A Novel of the Mexican Revolution, by Mariano Azuela

Due to the pressure of professional duties I have been unable to answer
your letter of January 4 before now. As you already know, I was
graduated last December. I was sorry to hear of Pancracio's and
Manteca's fate, though I am not surprised that they stabbed each other
over the gambling table. It is a pity; they were both brave men. I am
deeply grieved not to be able to tell Blondie how sincerely and
heartily I congratulate him for the only noble and beautiful thing he
ever did in his whole life: to have shot himself!

Dear Venancio, although you may have enough money to purchase a degree,
I am afraid you won't find it very easy to become a doctor in this
country. You know I like you very much, Venancio; and I think you
deserve a better fate. But I have an idea which may prove profitable to
both of us and which may improve your social position, as you desire.
We could do a fine business here if we were to go in as partners and
set up a typical Mexican restaurant in this town. I have no reserve
funds at the moment since I've spent all I had in getting my college
degree, but I have something much more valuable than money; my perfect
knowledge of this town and its needs. You can appear as the owner; we
will make a monthly division of profits. Besides, concerning a question
that interests us both very much, namely, your social improvement, it
occurs to me that you play the guitar quite well. In view of the
recommendations I could give you and in view of your training as well,
you might easily be admitted as a member of some fraternal order; there
are several here which would bring you no inconsiderable social
prestige.

Don't hesitate, Venancio, come at once and bring your funds. I promise
you we'll get rich in no time. My best wishes to the General, to
Anastasio, and the rest of the boys.

Explanation

Mariano Azuela’s The Underdogs (Los de abajo, 1915) is a foundational novel of the Mexican Revolution (1910–1920), offering a raw, disillusioned portrayal of the conflict from the perspective of the common people—peasants, bandits, and disillusioned intellectuals—rather than the romanticized heroes of revolutionary propaganda. The excerpt you’ve provided is a letter written by an unnamed, newly graduated doctor (likely Luis Cervantes, a recurring character in the novel) to Venancio, a former comrade-in-arms. The letter reveals the hypocrisy, opportunism, and moral decay that pervade post-revolutionary Mexican society, where the ideals of the revolution have been betrayed by self-interest and social climbing.

Context Within the Novel

The Underdogs follows Demetrio Macías, a peasant turned revolutionary leader, and his band of fighters as they navigate the chaos of the revolution. The novel is anti-heroic, showing how the revolution devolves into banditry, infighting, and corruption. By the time this letter is written, the revolution has lost its idealistic sheen, and former rebels are either dead, disillusioned, or seeking personal gain.

The letter’s author is a former revolutionary sympathizer who has now abandoned the cause to pursue a middle-class life. His tone is cynical, calculating, and detached, contrasting sharply with the earlier passion of the revolutionary struggle. Venancio, the recipient, is likely a former soldier or bandit (possibly one of Demetrio’s men) who, like many, is now trying to reinvent himself in a post-revolutionary world.

Key Themes in the Excerpt

The Betrayal of Revolutionary Ideals
- The letter opens with a cold acknowledgment of death: Pancracio and Manteca, two former comrades, have killed each other over a gambling dispute. The writer calls them "brave men" but shows no real grief, only a detached observation of their futile deaths.
- The most biting irony is his "congratulations" to Blondie for shooting himself—the only "noble and beautiful" act in his life. This suggests that suicide is preferable to the moral decay of post-revolutionary life.
- The revolution, which was supposed to bring justice, has instead led to meaningless violence and opportunism.
Social Climbing and Hypocrisy
- The writer, now a college-educated doctor, represents the new bourgeois class that emerged after the revolution. He mockingly offers Venancio a way to "improve his social position"—not through merit, but through deception and connections.
- His proposal to open a fake "typical Mexican restaurant" (likely a front for illegal activities) and have Venancio pose as the owner is pure exploitation. The writer has no money but offers his "perfect knowledge of this town and its needs"—meaning he knows how to manipulate the system.
- The suggestion that Venancio join a fraternal order (a social club for the elite) by playing the guitar is absurd and patronizing. It highlights how class barriers remain intact despite the revolution’s promises of equality.
The Corruption of the Revolutionary Dream
- The writer’s business proposal is a microcosm of post-revolutionary Mexico: instead of land reform or justice, the focus is on getting rich quick.
- His closing line—"My best wishes to the General, to Anastasio, and the rest of the boys"—is hollow and ironic. These men were once fighting for a cause; now, they are either dead, irrelevant, or corrupted.
- The revolution has become a memory to be exploited, not an ideal to be upheld.
The Illusion of Progress
- The writer’s degree symbolizes false progress. He is educated but morally bankrupt, using his knowledge not to heal society but to profit from its weaknesses.
- Venancio, a former fighter, is now being recruited into a different kind of war—one of social pretension and economic exploitation.

Literary Devices & Stylistic Choices

Irony & Sarcasm
- The praise for Blondie’s suicide is darkly ironic, suggesting that death is the only honorable exit from a corrupted world.
- The business proposal is framed as a generous opportunity, but it’s clearly a scheme to exploit Venancio’s lack of education and social standing.
Detached, Bureaucratic Tone
- The letter is cold and calculating, mirroring the impersonal, transactional nature of post-revolutionary society.
- Phrases like "I am afraid you won't find it very easy to become a doctor" and "we'll get rich in no time" reveal a cynicism that replaces revolutionary passion.
Symbolism
- The "typical Mexican restaurant" symbolizes the commodification of Mexican identity—something authentic turned into a profit-driven facade.
- The guitar-playing fraternal order represents the hollow social mobility available to former revolutionaries—performative respectability rather than real change.
Foreshadowing & Realism
- The letter foreshadows the failure of the revolution—those who survive either become corrupt or are left behind.
- Azuela’s realist style refuses to romanticize the revolution, showing instead the grim reality of its aftermath.

Significance of the Excerpt

This passage is one of the most damning indictments of the Mexican Revolution’s failure. It shows how:

The revolution did not bring justice—instead, it created new opportunists.
The old social hierarchies remained, just with different players.
Former revolutionaries were either dead, disillusioned, or complicit in the new corruption.

The letter also critiques the Mexican intelligentsia (represented by the doctor), who abandoned the people to serve their own interests. Azuela, himself a doctor who served in the revolution, was deeply disillusioned by its outcome, and this excerpt captures that bitterness perfectly.

Conclusion: A Revolution Consumed by Its Own Hypocrisy

The excerpt is a masterclass in revolutionary disillusionment. The writer’s cynical, self-serving tone contrasts with the idealism that once drove men like Demetrio Macías to fight. Instead of land, liberty, or justice, the post-revolutionary world offers fake restaurants, fraternal orders, and empty promises.

Azuela’s genius lies in showing that the real "underdogs" were not just the peasants—they were the revolution itself, betrayed by those who claimed to fight for it. The letter is a microcosm of that betrayal, where even friendship is reduced to a business transaction, and honor is nothing more than a well-played guitar.

Questions

Question 1

The letter’s praise for Blondie’s suicide as the “only noble and beautiful thing he ever did” primarily serves to:

A. Highlight the narrator’s deep-seated misanthropy and contempt for all human life.
B. Underscore the moral bankruptcy of post-revolutionary society, where self-destruction is the sole remaining act of integrity.
C. Suggest that Blondie’s death was a rational response to the economic hardships faced by former revolutionaries.
D. Contrast Blondie’s cowardice with the bravery of Pancracio and Manteca, who died in a gambling dispute.
E. Imply that the narrator secretly envies Blondie’s escape from the burdens of professional and social obligations.

Question 2

The proposal to establish a “typical Mexican restaurant” functions most effectively as a:

A. Genuine entrepreneurial opportunity that reflects the narrator’s shrewd understanding of market demands.
B. Metaphor for the commodification of revolutionary ideals, where authenticity is repackaged for profit and social climbing.
C. Satirical jab at Venancio’s lack of sophistication, exposing his inability to recognize a transparent scam.
D. Practical solution to Venancio’s financial struggles, demonstrating the narrator’s pragmatic concern for his friend’s welfare.
E. Subtle critique of urbanization, suggesting that traditional Mexican culture can only survive through commercial exploitation.

Question 3

The narrator’s suggestion that Venancio join a fraternal order by leveraging his guitar-playing skills is best understood as:

A. A sincere attempt to integrate Venancio into respectable society by capitalizing on his artistic talents.
B. A condescending illustration of how class mobility in post-revolutionary Mexico relies on performative conformity rather than merit.
C. An acknowledgment of the cultural value of music in Mexican social institutions, despite its underappreciation in professional spheres.
D. A veiled insult, implying that Venancio’s lack of education makes him unfit for any role beyond entertainment.
E. A strategic maneuver to gain access to the fraternal order’s political connections for the narrator’s own benefit.

Question 4

Which of the following best captures the relationship between the letter’s tone and its underlying critique of the Mexican Revolution?

A. The clinical detachment of the prose mirrors the emotional exhaustion of a generation disillusioned by failed political promises.
B. The sarcastic praise for Blondie’s suicide aligns with the revolution’s original nihilistic impulses, now fully realized in society.
C. The shift from revolutionary camaraderie to transactional language reflects the inevitable corruption of all ideological movements.
D. The narrator’s opportunism is presented as a natural evolution from the revolution’s chaotic violence to post-war pragmatism.
E. The letter’s bureaucratic precision in discussing death and profit exposes how revolutionary ideals have been replaced by cynical calculation.

Question 5

The closing line—“My best wishes to the General, to Anastasio, and the rest of the boys”—is most effectively interpreted as:

A. A nostalgic nod to shared revolutionary experiences, revealing the narrator’s lingering emotional ties to his former comrades.
B. A hollow ritual of politeness that underscores the narrator’s complete detachment from the revolution’s original purpose.
C. An ironic acknowledgment that the “boys” are now irrelevant, their fates sealed by the very system they once fought to overthrow.
D. A subtle threat, implying that the narrator holds damaging information about the General and his men.
E. A performative gesture to maintain the illusion of solidarity, masking the narrator’s contempt for their wasted efforts.

Solutions and Explanations

1) Correct answer: B

Why B is most correct: The praise for Blondie’s suicide is not a personal attack on Blondie but a systemic indictment. The narrator frames self-annihilation as the only act of integrity left in a society where revolutionary ideals have collapsed into corruption, violence, and opportunism. This aligns with Azuela’s broader critique: the revolution’s failure has left no honorable path except opt-out via death. The irony is biting precisely because it inverts traditional values—suicide, not survival, is noble.