This is not something that is common in the United States. We think in bumper stickers and are far too fond of dichotomies: up and down, right and left, east and west, right and wrong. We label, and then we attack. Worse, we think we can transfer this viewpoint abroad – to intensely nuanced realities like those in Latin America. And in doing so, I think we miss out on what the continent has to offer.

I wrote The Lieutenant of San Porfirio because I love Latin America. I haven’t learned to love it naively, as some Americans say, because of its chaos. I love it because I grew up there, and in spite of the chaos. I love it because I have shared the struggles, the hungers, the frustrations, and yes some of the few – the precious few – victories.

Set in Venezuela, because that small Andean/Caribbean country is at the center of the maelstrom, I am telling a deeply Latin story for an American audience. Through magical realism I have attempted to show the magical, mystical and spiritual side of diverse and divergent societies. Through legend I have tried to weave the sights, smells, sounds, and tastes of a continent into a rich fabric upon which the story hangs. And through archetypical characters I have sought to lay out the similarities, and differences, that plunge nations over and over into conflict.

I have tried to capture in insufficient words the birth pains of a people. The fight against poverty but also against dictatorship; the struggle for freedom but also to hold destitution at arm’s length; and the brawling for temporal power that always ends badly. It is, however, not a muddled story. It is a story about the search for individual liberty; a story of clear ideas in a place of uncertain direction and outcomes.

Now, I invite you to join me in my story. It is not an easy one; but most readers regardless of geography or ideology will find something to love, something to enjoy, but also something deeply troubling in The Lieutenant of San Porfirio.