5/5 stars

What's it about? On the Day of the Dead in 1938, former British consul Geoffrey Firmin embarks on the last bender of his life upon the return of his ex-wife Yvonne to their home in Quauhnahuac, Mexico. A masterpiece.

How’d I find it? The Lost Avenue Book Club picked this read.

Who will enjoy this book? For another book about someone’s last day alive, check out A Simple Man by Christopher Isherwood.

What stood out? Geoffrey’s hopeless self-destruction hangs over the novel as he drinks himself into oblivion to forget his personal grief and the world’s descent into violence, the specter of World War II already on the horizon. Among the many achievements of the book is its precision in place and time; this work could have no other title. Under the Volcano is rife with symbolism, the depth of which I only grasped after reading the letter, included in my edition, from Lowry to his publisher defending the manuscript’s structure and length. Lowry had a reason for everything: the number of chapters, the Joycean ride that is chapter 11, and even the opening of the book, which takes place a year after the story’s events.

Which line made me feel something? I wouldn’t dare rob you of the book’s prettiest passages, so I’ll focus on its humor instead. Take this quip from Geoffrey to a bartender: “I love hell. I can’t wait to get back there. In fact I’m running. I’m almost back there already.”