MARIO VARGAS LLOSA AND THE TIME OF THE HERO: A CRY OF REBELLION AGAINST AUTHORITY

MARIO VARGAS LLOSA AND THE TIME OF THE HERO: A CRY OF REBELLION AGAINST AUTHORITY

By Poet and translator Lebanese-Brazilian TAGHRID BOU MERHI 

With the passing of Mario Vargas Llosa, a page is turned in the book of world literature that cannot be forgotten—not merely because he was one of Latin America's foremost writers who illuminated the dark corners of his society, but because he was a witness and chronicler of the human soul's fractures and the turbulent transformations of history, politics, and culture across his torn continent. He died on a Sunday at the age of eighty-nine, after a literary journey rich in deep critique and elevated writing that united art and thought, reality and imagination, human conflict and the minutiae of everyday life.

Born in 1936 in Arequipa, Peru, Mario Vargas Llosa was far more than a novelist. He was a thinker, a critic, a journalist, and a politician. He ran for the presidency of his country in the 1990s and wrote boldly against dictatorship, passionately for freedom, and intimately about the tormented individual in a repressive society. He was one of the pillars of the Latin American literary “Boom,” a movement that included giants like GABRIEL GARCÍA MÁRQUEZ, JULIO CORTÁZAR, and CARLOS FUENTES. In 2010, he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature—a recognition of a legacy that was not only artistic but also deeply resistant.

In 1963, Vargas Llosa published his debut novel LA CIUDAD Y LOS PERROS (THE TIME OF THE HERO), a powerful and unflinching introduction to his literary voice. It was not a conventional work, but rather a direct blow to the heart of the institution, a fierce indictment of social hypocrisy, institutional violence, and the silent oppression that infiltrates individual lives in the name of order and discipline. Vargas Llosa chose to begin his literary career with a narrative that bleeds and shakes the conscience—and succeeded. The novel shocked Peruvian society, was banned from military academies, and copies were publicly burned, which only amplified its fame and elevated its author to international acclaim.

The events of the novel unfold in a military academy in Lima—specifically the “LEONCIO PRADO MILITARY ACADEMY,” which Vargas Llosa himself attended during adolescence. But the novel is not merely a personal memoir; it is a complex literary work that employs multiple narrative voices, temporal shifts, and modern storytelling techniques to deliver a panoramic portrait of an entire generation trapped in an iron cage—a system that crushes innocence and transforms teenagers into instruments of violence, collusion, and silent rebellion.

The title itself is richly symbolic. “The city” is not only Lima but the civil society that is supposed to be cultured and humane, while “the dogs” refers to the students inside the institution—oppressed and conditioned into submission, tamed into small wolves inside a closed human jungle. This is the core conflict: authority versus the individual, proclaimed human values versus mechanisms of real-life repression. The story revolves around a group of cadets, with particular focus on two central characters: “The Slave” and “Jaguar.” The former is a fragile, dreamy youth striving to survive in a hostile world of humiliation and abuse; the latter is a secret leader among the cadets, rebellious and cunning, navigating the system from its edges.

What is most striking about the novel is how these characters are constructed from within—not merely through external descriptions but through shards of their consciousness, disjointed thoughts, memories, and intersecting voices. Each character is narrated from a different angle, and each event is replayed from multiple perspectives, drawing the reader into the heart of the action and imparting a sense of disorientation that mirrors the novel’s emotional and psychological depth. We do not simply read The Time of the Hero—we are plunged into it, we breathe its anxiety, walk its corridors, and feel ourselves trapped in a barracks that allows no exit without scars.

Power and violence are central themes of the novel. The violence is not only physical but also psychological, institutional, and at times, sexual. Harsh punishments are common, students are encouraged to inform on one another, and crimes are systematically concealed. What Vargas Llosa reveals is not merely the abuses within a military school but the seeds planted in children’s minds to make them into merciless men. It is a lesson in how power is constructed from within and how human beings are reduced to mere cogs in the machinery of repression.

Equally impressive is the novel’s literary style. Vargas Llosa employs, even in his first work, relatively complex techniques: polyphony, non-linear storytelling, and temporal fragmentation. It is not an easy read, but one that demands engagement, focus, and reflection. This reflects Vargas Llosa’s philosophy of literature: art is not merely for entertainment—it is a tool for consciousness, provocation, and change.

Among the most heart-wrenching images in the novel is the character of The Slave, representing threatened innocence, paying a high price for his refusal to play by the rules. Meanwhile, Jaguar symbolizes cunning and survival, yet ultimately becomes ensnared by the same system he appeared to defy. Despite their differences, both are victims of the same institution: the school, the city, the regime.

Through this work, Vargas Llosa launched his literary project centered on exposing authority and questioning the role of institutions in deforming the human spirit. The novel is not just about Peru—it speaks to any society where power is built on violence and souls are forced to obey rather than think. He used this debut as a sharp instrument to unveil the contradictions of Peruvian society and expose wounds meant to remain hidden under a veneer of patriotism and false discipline.

The Time of the Hero stands as a milestone in Latin American literature, paving the way for a new wave of novels that addressed reality through a refined artistic lens and a bold critical stance. It is now considered a classic, taught in universities, read in multiple languages, and appreciated as a work that speaks to the human condition before it addresses the intellect. A film adaptation was released in 1985, bringing renewed attention to its complex themes.

In an era when values are increasingly compromised by ideology, and freedom is suppressed in the name of order, The Time of the Hero remains a vital text for reading and reflection. It holds up a mirror to the reader and poses essential questions: What do we create when we raise children to obey rather than to think? What are we doing when we subject education to the machinery of power rather than the spirit of knowledge? This is not merely a novel of the past—it speaks urgently to the present and perhaps even to the future.

Mario Vargas Llosa may have passed away, but his novels endure—as witnesses to a world resounding with contradictions and full of unheard voices. The Time of the Hero will remain a cry against authority and a mirror for fragile beings seeking themselves in an unkind world. It is the second birth of a writer who chose to be a witness, not a reporter; a fighter, not a bystander. He gifted it to the world as a foundational text for an intellectual and literary life that does not know surrender.