The late Richard Neville was the founder of Oz, a counter-cultural magazine in 1960s London, which became embroiled in an obscenity trial, he also later brought up a daughter, Australian, Lucy Neville, whose debut book, Oh Mexico! (2011) is a sharply-written, honest and entertaining account of an eventful time in her twenties spent living, studying and working as an English teacher in 21st century Mexico City.
Armed with a degree in Spanish and Latin Studies combined
with a powerful sense of the exotic about her favourite region, she arrived in
one of the toughest places on the continent with the intention of carving out a
viable existence amid the political and urban turbulence of modern Mexico while
improving her Spanish skills.
At the airport she is warned by a fellow passenger to avoid
taking a taxi yet rejects the scaremongering and quickly finds Jesus – the name
of the taxi driver who takes her to the correct hotel and offers unconditional
extended family help. The author contrasts this with a previous experience in
Madrid where an unfriendly taxi driver dumped her in the red light district to
find cheap accommodation and criticised her rudimentary Spanish.
However, this is no holiday for Lucy. She supports herself
by a teaching job she finds at Fifth Avenue English School. Her female students
– the First Wives Breakfast Club – offer plenty of insights into Mexican
society, especially local men, the threat of crime, and the brutal economic
realities for most. She spells out her motivation for the students: “In
Australia it’s perfectly normal for people to live in other countries, for the
experience and challenges.” This, however, serves only to highlight the cultural
and economic divide she represents, though with a growing sense of awareness she delivers her findings like a wise
anthropologist at a conference: “When Mexicans go live in other countries it’s
because of the necessity of finding a job.”
Along the way, she meets other foreign adventurers with
eclectic motives, but is struck by how little they have in common and prefers
to live with a (distractingly handsome) Mexican in a shared flat in a lively
neighbourhood close to where American writer, William Burroughs once found
infamy in a shooting incident with his wife, where she can at least practise
her evolving Spanish and enjoy good company in an unfamiliar and often chaotic
city.
The language learning doesn’t always go well but she stays
sufficiently alert to grab opportunities when they come her way. Even a major political
rally which attracted her curiosity turned into an informal lesson in advanced
Spanish vocabulary: “through the haze of verbs, articles and prepositions, some
solid nouns began to stand out: ‘solidarity’, ‘economic justice’, ‘neo-liberal
imperialism’."
On another occasion when buying street food (tortas) she
confuses ‘abogado’ and ‘aguacate’. This results in a request for extra lawyers -
instead of layers - on her sandwich. The seller sees the funny side but it
causes language learner anguish that would be familiar to many, and triggers doubts
about the value of formal study back in Australia memorising, for instance,
verb endings, while: “I still had serious problems when it came to buying a
sandwich.” Her housemate, Octavia, adds a linguistic twist by sharing a Mexican
(male) interpretation of innocent everyday terms and the sexual connotations of
accepting or rejecting "tortas with sausage and chips…" when ordering street
food.
Increasingly, the reader is left in no doubt that Lucy has
fully immersed herself in Mexican society, having to deal with early morning
subway rides to work and a range of weird subterranean characters, as well as a
lousy local boss who fails to pay staff on time. To supplement her income and
pay the rent she takes private students and experiences the ‘sink or swim’,
‘live for the moment’ mentality, which seem to prevail in her adopted country. Most
evident, arguably, in the spectacular annual Day of the Dead festival that she fully
enjoys, and concludes that attitudes to death are jokey and playful in Mexico
in contrast to many other cultures.
Finally, a brief, and unlikely, foray into the world of
Mexican acting and advertising alleviates financial worries and adds another
string to the author’s bow. Her romantic entanglement eventually sorts itself
out and she returns to Australia with boyfriend Ricardo by her side, a severe
case of reverse culture shock, and a new future to contemplate.
Any feelings of euphoria, though, are quickly tempered by
the realisation that, while she may be part of a sophisticated, international
couple, the wider mutual ignorance between their two countries, even in
cosmopolitan Sydney, is all too apparent. She finishes a terrific debut read,
and a compelling introduction to a place I have never visited, with insights
that could only come from a returning exile adjusting to a new reality at home:
“Just as for most Mexicans, Australia could be Austria, Mexico is anything
involving beans and blankets with rainbow-stripes-coloured. We are drinking
Sangria, which most Mexicans have never even heard of.”
You may not be booking for the first flight out to Mexico
City after reaching the end of Oh Mexico! but you will very likely be drawn
to the more adventurous among us who have spent time in the country, beyond the
manufactured tourist spots, and now have a few tales to tell. Adios. (R.I.P. Richard Neville, 1942 – 2016).
About
the reviewer
Lloyd Wright is an under-employed EFL teacher who values
engagement with students and others from across the globe – Chile to China –
and especially their quirky views about British life. He writes occasional
articles for diverse outlets and was briefly on the Disney payroll while
writing about the unfolding drama of the 2002 World Cup.
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