The Epic Fail of Arturo Zamora

Arturo’s voice narrates the story of his “epic fail,” but much of what he recounts centers on the process through which he discovers that voice—the voice that tells his story. The reader thus follows both Arturo’s development and that of the novel itself. In the opening chapters, Arturo’s uncertainty about his feelings and his ideas hampers his voice. When Carmen first arrives at La Cocina and greets Arturo with double kisses, his physical reaction confuses him. He doesn’t know what to say or do, and admits that “if it weren’t for Aunt Tuti, I might have been caught in a vortex of my own confusion and despair” (8). While he continues to be tongue-tied and clumsy during subsequent interactions with Carmen, he also lacks the confidence to speak up in other situations. He worries his mother’s restrained response to Wilfrido’s threat is inadequate, but says nothing (initially). Later, after learning Pipo Place will erase La Cocina, Arturo doesn’t trust himself to decide if he should tell Abuela. He resolves to ask Bren and Mop, thinking, “They’d know what I should do” (77).

When Bren and Mop leave for the summer, Arturo turns to his grandfather’s letters for answers and advice. Abuelo’s words nudge Arturo to believe in himself by highlighting the example of José Martí, the 19th-century Cuban poet and activist. Noting that Martí’s poetry inspired the world-renowned song “Guantanamera,” Abuelo declares, “So you see? A young person has the power to do many great things. It’s about belief” (89) and finding the courage to voice one’s thoughts. Just as Martí used poetry to express himself, so Abuelo wrote a poem to Abuela when he couldn’t muster the nerve to speak of his love for her. Abuelo’s letter reads, “Letting poetry speak for me was the most unexpected thing I had ever done. I hope one day you will get to do the unexpected, Arturo” (131).

Bolstered by his grandfather’s story, Arturo professes his feelings to Carmen and publicly raises his voice against Wilfrido. His grief over Abuela’s death sends him back to Abuelo’s letters, which serendipitously advise him, “sometimes you need to write it down” (163). Arturo uses the blank pages Abuelo has provided to recount the events of the past few weeks, cultivating his voice as he does so and, presumably, drafting the novel the reader now reads. He also writes a poem honoring Abuela. The opportunity then arises for Arturo to fulfill Abuelo’s wish that he “will get to do the unexpected” (131). He surprises himself by standing before the community council and “letting poetry speak” (131) for him as he reads his elegy to Abuela. Despite the title of his narrative, Arturo’s ambitions “to save the restaurant. Save the town. Get the girl” (1) succeed, because he finds the courage to speak up. Indeed, his achievement recalls (albeit on a smaller scale) José Martí’s fight to free his homeland, Cuba, from Spanish domination.

In an “author’s note” that follows Arturo’s story, Cartaya explains that the poems in Martí’s Versos sencillos “reflect very personal experiences […]. It is the reason I wanted Arturo to use verse […] to help sort through his emotions” (246). Abuelo directs Arturo to “[f]ind your voice” (91) and privileges poetry for this undertaking, but the novel acknowledges other forms of self-expression as valuable, too. Several exchanges between Arturo and his friends via social media appear in the narrative, as do two of Abuela’s recipes—her medium for communicating her culture and her love. The narrative is also sprinkled with Spanish—the spoken language of Abuela. By recognizing numerous ways of speaking, the novel underscores the uniqueness of every different voice.