Read Ebook {PDF EPUB} A Sweet Scent of Death by Guillermo Arriaga ISBN 13: 9780743296793. From the award-winning, internationally acclaimed screenwriter of Amores perros , 21 Grams , and Babel , A Sweet Scent of Death is Guillermo Arriaga's tale of deception, passion, and violence fused together by the tragic killing of a young girl in a small Mexican village. Early one morning in a deserted field, Ramón Castaños is confronted with the dead body of Adela, a lovely young girl, whom he had only admired from afar. Within an hour, rumor of the death of Ramón Castaños's girlfriend has spread to every corner of Loma Grande. This powder-trail of gossip ignites further violence when the villagers, thirsty for revenge, cast about for answers and hit upon the nomadic José Echeverri-Berriozábal, known as "the Gypsy." Honor then demands that Ramón must now live out his imaginary past in a brutal reality and prove his manhood by avenging Adela's cruel fate. Guillermo Arriaga is the author of The Night Buffalo and The Guillotine Squad . He has worked in television, radio, and film. Arriaga is the award- winning screenwriter of Amores perros , 21 Grams , The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada , and Babel . "synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title. Guillermo Arriaga es un escritor mexicano que ha alcanzado la fama mundial como guionista de la película Amores perros , de gran éxito internacional, y de las películas 21 Gramos , Las tres muertes de Melquiades Estrada , y Babel . Arriaga es también el autor de las novelas: El Búfalo de la noche y Escuadrón guillotina . Excerpt. � Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. : Ramón Castaños was dusting his counter when he heard a faraway, piercing shriek. Listening carefully, he heard only the usual morning hum. He decided it was just the screech of a chachalaca, many of which flapped about the hill. He went on with his dusting. Taking down a shelf, he prepared to clean it, when there was another scream, much closer and clearer. This was followed by another, then another. Ramón put down the shelf, jumped over the counter and went out the door to see what was happening. It was early Sunday; he found no one. But the screams became more and more frantic and continuous. Walking out to the middle of the street, he saw three boys in the distance, running towards him, shouting at the top of their lungs. 'A dead woman. a dead woman. ' Ramón moved toward them and stopped one as the others fled among the houses. 'What's up?' he asked. 'They killed her. they killed her. ' howled the boy. Without another word the child raced off, back where he'd come from. Ramón followed him, running along the path to the river, until they reached a field of sorghum. 'There,' gasped the frightened child, pointing to one side of the field. A corpse lay among the furrows. Ramón approached slowly, his heart pounding at every step. The woman was nude, lying face up in a pool of blood. The moment he saw her he could not take his eyes off her. At sixteen he had often dreamt of seeing a naked woman, but had never imagined finding one like this. He surveyed her smooth, motionless skin more in shock than in lust, for it was a young body. With her arms stretched back and one leg slightly bent, she seemed to implore a final embrace. The sight moved him. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, noticing the sweet scent of cheap floral perfume. He felt like giving her his hand, lifting her, telling her to cut out the pretense of death. She remained nude and still. Ramón took off his shirt, his Sunday best, and covered her as well as he could. As he bent over, he recognized Adela. She had been stabbed in the back. A crowd of curious villagers, led by the other kids, arrived noisily, almost stumbling over the body. But the sight of it silenced them. They surrounded it quietly, some furtively examining the dead woman. Ramón realized that her body was still partly exposed. He broke off a few sorghum stalks to cover the bare parts. The others watched him, surprised, as if intruding on a private rite. A fat, gray-haired man pushed his way to the front. He was Loma Grande's ejido delegate, Justino Téllez. He stopped momentarily, reluctant to go beyond the circle surrounding Ramón and the dead girl. He would have preferred to stay out of the way, in the crowd, but he represented authority and as such would have to intervene. Taking three steps forward, he spat on the ground and said something to Ramón which no one heard. He knelt beside the body, raising the shirt to look at the girl's face. He crouched, examining the corpse for some time. Finally, covering it again, he stood up with difficulty and clicked his tongue. With a bandanna from his pocket he wiped the sweat trickling down his face. 'Bring a cart,' he ordered. 'We have to take her to the village.' No one moved. Aware that he was not being obeyed, Justino Téllez examined the faces watching him and stopped at Pascual Ortega, thin, awkward and bowlegged.'Move it, Pascual; go get your grandfather's cart.' As if he had been brusquely awakened, Pascual took one look at the corpse, then at the delegate, swung around and dashed off to Loma Grande. Justino and Ramón stood wordlessly face to face. Among the whispers of the curious, someone asked, 'Who is she?' No one really knew who she was, but an unidentified voice declared, 'Ramón Castaños' girl.' A buzz of murmurs rose, then stopped, leaving a heavy silence, broken only by chirping cicadas. The sun began to bake the air, raising humid heat from the ground. Therewas not a breath to cool the inert flesh lying before them. 'She wasn't stabbed very long ago,' murmured Justino. 'She isn't stiff, and there aren't any ants yet.' Ramón looked at him, bewildered. Téllez continued even more quietly, 'She was killed less than two hours ago.' Pascual returned with the cart and parked it as close to the victim as possible. The circle drew back, but remained expectant for the long time it took Ramón to decide to put his arms under the corpse and lift it. Unexpectedly one of his hands touched the sticky wound and, repelled, he moved it brusquely. The shirt and stalks fell away, leaving the woman nude again. And again morbid eyes stared at the exposed skin. Ramón made an effort to spare Adela's vulnerable modesty by turning his back on the crowd and walking away across the furrows. The onlookers yielded with no effort to help him. Stumbling, he approached the cart and gently deposited the supine figure. Pascual handed him a blanket with which to cover her. Justino came up to make sure that all was well and ordered, 'Take her away, Pascual.' The boy took the driver's seat and whipped up the mules. The cart staggered along, shaking the body on its boards, followed by the crowd. The rumor was confirmed among those in the funeral procession: Ramón Castaños' girl had been murdered. Justino and Ramón stood watching the cortège move away. Still affected by his brush with that warm flesh, Ramón felt his veins burning. He missed the weight of what he had just carried, feeling as if he had lost something that had always belonged to him. He looked at his arms, marked by faint bloodstains, and closed his eyes. He was suddenly seized by a dizzying need to chase after Adela and embrace her. The idea upset him and he felt faint. Justino's voice brought him out of it. 'Ramón,' he said. Ramón opened his eyes. The sky was a cloudless blue, the rust-colored stands of sorghum ready for harvest, and death was the memory of a woman in his arms. Justino bent down to pick up the shirt still lying on the ground. He handed it to Ramón, who automatically accepted it. It too was stained with blood. Rather than put it on, Ramón tied it around his waist. The delegate scratched his head. 'I've got to admit,' he said, 'I'm damned if I know who that woman is.' Ramón sighed softly. He might have said the same. He had seen her no more than the five or six times she had come to buy at his store. Since then, he had found her very attractive. She was tall, with light eyes, so he had asked around for her name, and it was Juan Carrera who told him it was Adela. That was all he knew about her, but now that he had held her close to him, so naked and so close, he seemed to have known her all his life. 'Adela,' murmured Ramón. 'Her name was Adela.' The delegate frowned; the name meant nothing to him. 'Adela,' repeated Ramón, as if the name pronounced itself. 'Adela what?' asked Justino. Ramón shrugged his shoulders. The delegate looked down and examined the spot where the corpse had rested, now the site of a large bloodstain. Footprints were barely visible among the hardened, cracked lumps of earth. Justino followed them into the sorghum until they disappeared in the direction of the river. He squatted and measured the footprints by handspans. One of the prints measured one span: Adela's. Another measured a span and three fingers: the murderer's. Her prints were barefoot, his those of a high-heeled cowboy boot. Justino took a breath and made his decision: 'Her killer was neither tall nor short, fat nor thin, right?' Ramón assented, almost involuntarily. He hadn't listened. Justino moved a little earth with his shoe and continued, 'He killed her with a long sharp knife, because he cut through her heart with one stab.' He scanned the place in search of a weapon. Not finding one, he continued: 'She fell face down, but the killer turned her over to see her face and left her that way. as if in the middle of a sentence.' A flock of white-winged doves flew over them. Justino followed them with his eyes until they were lost on the horizon. 'She was a very young victim,' he said as if to himself. 'Why the hell would he want to kill her?' Ramón didn't even turn to look at him. Justino Téllez spat on the ground, took him by the arm and began to walk him along the path. Copyright © 1994 by Guillermo Arriaga Translation copyright © 2002 by John Page. 'A Sweet Scent Of Death' by Guillermo Arriaga (1 Viewer) A Sweet Scent Of Death is the second novel by Mexican author and screenplay writer, Guillermo Arriaga, although you probably sort-of know him better as the guy who wrote Amores Perros and 21 Grams. It's one of those novels that you know from the start whether you are going to like it, or not. It is the story of a small Mexican village, Loma Grande, where one day the naked body of a teenage girl is found, and how the finger of blame, when coupled with hearsay, escalates to such a point that it ends with violence. A local boy, Ramon Castanos, had an unspoken of fancy for the murdered girl but his grief leads the villagers to believe they were actually secret lovers. The girl's secret letters, peppered with coded messages, lead him to believe that she felt the same way for him. And the villages, wanting the murder avenged, force Ramon into killing her attacker. But who was it? One man claims to have seen frequent visitor, the Gypsy, frollicking in the bushes with the murdered lady but it was actually Gabriela, who is married to Pedro Salgado, and he would kill her if he knew she was cheating on him. So, unable to defend the Gypsy she can only watch on helpless, much like most of the implicated characters here, as events snowball to the denouement. It's a great plot, but it belongs in the movies. A Sweet Scent Of Death reads like a movie and it's for that reason I knew I wouldn't like it from the start - I did, however, press on. The translation, also, felt lacking, the prose sometimes feeling lifeless. There's too many characters in this novel, most with little to add to the narrative other than to goad Ramon into killing the Gypsy. And, due to its cinematic style, the author rarely gets within the heads of his players, preferring to describe their actions. Rather than someone swither over to kill someone, a shaky hand for illustration, it would have been far more satisfying to get inside their head and show the turmoil and guilt they felt. Overall, a good idea with great plotting but let down by some really shoddy prose. If Arriaga ever gets round to it, then you'd be best served waiting for the film to come out. Un Dulce olor a muerte (Sweet Scent of Death) Una mañana muy temprano, Ramón descubre el cadáver de Adela en unos campos de avena cerca de Loma Grande. Ramón apenas había visto a Adela en un par de ocasiones, pero en el mismo instante en el que el muchacho cubre con su camisa el cuerpo desnudo de la muerta, comienza a difundirse el rumor de que Adela era su novia. A partir de ese momento, los hechos se irán desencadenando irremediablemente y Ramón se verá obligado a vengar la muerte de la joven. Su corazón es quien le obliga actuar, su corazón y un pueblo entero que se convierte en el protagonista de la novela, en el creador de una ofensa y de una venganza inevitable. Un dulce olor a muerte es una novela fascinante en que la pasión y el orgullo dictan cada una de las decisiones de los personajes, la venganza se convierte en destino y la verdad se muestra en su faceta más ambigua y demoledora. About The Author. Guillermo Arriaga es un escritor mexicano que ha alcanzado la fama mundial como guionista de la película Amores perros , de gran éxito internacional, y de las películas 21 Gramos , Las tres muertes de Melquiades Estrada , y Babel . Arriaga es también el autor de las novelas: El Búfalo de la noche y Escuadrón guillotina . My Friends, the Illegal Immigrants. The Estrada Brothers don’t know how to read or write. They’re Mexican peasants with a very modest income based on fishing for tilapia in a local dam, harvesting chiles or onions as day laborers on private farms or growing corn, with little luck, on communal land. I’ve known them for almost 30 years. Lucio, the eldest of the three, is my compadre; I’m surrogate godfather to all his children. Pedro is a close friend. I made a small homage to Melquiades, the youngest of the three, by naming a movie after him — “The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada.” The characters of one of my novels, “Un Dulce Olor a Muerte” (The Sweet Scent of Death), all bear their names and the names of their wives and children. The novel takes place in their small village, where no more than 150 people live. The Estradas are generous and joyful, some of the best people I’ve ever met. I’ve watched their children grow up, as well as some of their grandchildren. Many of them I met once and never saw again: They emigrated to the United States and haven’t returned. But that doesn’t mean they haven’t wanted to return; for many, it is simply too risky. The United States has every right, as a nation, to forbid entry to illegal migrant workers. It’s the law. But reality has exceeded the confines of the current law. It’s time for a more humane legal framework that takes into account the real lives of real people. Like my friends, the Estrada Brothers. The Estradas grew up on the outskirts of Ciudad Mante, in the northeast of the state of Tamaulipas, near the Gulf of Mexico. There, summer temperatures can reach 40 degrees. It’s subtropical. Most of the Estradas who emigrated live and work in a town in the northern United States. There, winter temperatures can plunge to 30 degrees below zero. The first to leave were Lucio’s and Pedro’s sons, both named Pedro. The Pedros were barely 15 when they left. They did it with a sense of adventure and, obviously, with the desire to raise their incomes above what they could earn at home, in a rural area increasingly devastated by the tides of the economy. With no chance to study beyond middle school, with a limited future in which they were destined to help their parents in their labors because other jobs were practically non-existent, they saw leaving as their only choice. It hurt Lucio in his heart to see his eldest son leave so young. Melquiades followed, leaving his pregnant wife and four boys behind. For years he was unable to return — too complicated to come and go illegally. He was finally able to meet his youngest daughter when she was 9 years old. He didn’t have it in him to leave his family again. He couldn’t bear the thought of spending another nine years without seeing them. He decided to risk everything, and took them all to the United States. Throughout these 30 years, I’ve known about the realities of immigration through these friends who are so close to me. I’ve seen them go mad with jealousy. While they sometimes work two consecutive shifts to send money to their wives, they don’t know if they’re being cheated on or if their wives are spending their money with another man. It is an act of faith to send money every month — for years — to a family they only know about over the phone or through photographs. They drink and smoke until the pain is anaesthetized. I’ve also seen the wives stay behind without knowing if the fathers of their children, the men they love, will ever come back. They can’t know for sure if their husbands have started a new family on the other side of the border. Sitting at the dinner table, they become lost in their thoughts as they try to imagine the distant world where their men live. Men and women, both, end up wrecked by jealousy, doubt and the uncertainty of love. I’ve seen them crying in the fields, staring at the horizon, because for months they haven’t heard a thing from those who decided to cross over to the other side. This was the case of Rosa, my friend Pedro’s wife, who disappeared for a long while. They knew Rosa would cross the river tied to the inner tube of a tractor’s tire, pulled by ropes. That was what the “pollero” — the smuggler hired to get her across — had explained to them. They also knew that Rosa didn’t know how to swim. Desperate, Pedro and his children looked through list upon list of Mexicans who had died while attempting to cross the river. Their search was in vain. Nothing. No trace of Rosa, no trace of the “pollero.” Pedro couldn’t stand the sadness. He prayed, he begged God, the saints. He promised not to cut his hair until she returned. Rosa appeared eight months later. Safe and sound. And frightened. She had been arrested and incarcerated. She tried to cross the border with fake papers, which is a crime. She was kept in jail for seven months. She couldn’t tell anyone. Despite the risk of a longer prison sentence if she’s caught, she still plans to try it again. She wants a better life. The last time I saw him, Pedro’s hair was still long. He looked like a hippie. None of the Estradas speak English. But they’ve managed. Pedro, who left for five years, befriended his boss, who spoke no Spanish, just through signs. For entire afternoons, they sat down and talked about their families, their worries, their hobbies. And they understood each other. Lucio’s son Pedro married an American girl — a soldier who fought in Iraq and doesn’t speak Spanish. Pedro’s children were born and grew up in the United States. They only recently met their grandparents, Lucio and Evelia. It was hard for them to communicate. That language barrier. The grandkids can barely babble in Spanish. This, then, is when the problem of illegal immigration ceases to be a legal one and becomes a political, social and even moral question. Human lives are at stake. The lives of people who fall in love, pray, laugh, love their children, suffer and forgive. It is for good people, like the Estradas, that the terrible matter of immigration must be confronted — in the United States or any other country that depends on migrant labor. Not doing so is inhuman. I know this because I know dozens of immigrants: Most of them want to return to Mexico. Their purpose in crossing the border is to find a job and the means to live with more dignity than their country can offer. They do want to come back. They don’t want to spend entire nights chewing over their jealousy, imagining their women in the arms of others. They don’t want their children’s lives to go on without them. They don’t want to be separated from their lands or their homes. They want to work, to make an honest living. And then to return. It’s that simple: to return. Films similar to or like A Sweet Scent of Death. 2000 Mexican crime thriller dark comedy-drama film directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu and written by Guillermo Arriaga. First installment in González Iñárritu's "Trilogy of Death", succeeded by 21 Grams and Babel. Wikipedia. 2015 Venezuelan drama film directed by Lorenzo Vigas and written by Vigas and Guillermo Arriaga. It won the Golden Lion at the 72nd Venice International Film Festival. Wikipedia. 1997 British-Japanese drama film directed by Sean Mathias, based on the 1979 play of the same name by Martin Sherman, who also wrote the screenplay. It revolves around the persecution of homosexuals in Nazi Germany after the murder of SA leader Ernst Röhm on the Night of the Long Knives. Wikipedia. 1984 Mexican exploitation film directed by Gabriel Retes. About a group of women who escape a prison in search for a treasure at a beach. Wikipedia. 2020 American drama film directed by Joe Mantello, based on the 1968 play of the same name by Mart Crowley, who also wrote the screenplay alongside Ned Martel. Crowley had previously adapted The Boys in the Band for a 1970 film version directed by William Friedkin and starring the original 1968 Off-Broadway cast. Wikipedia. 2017 drama film, based on a novel by Antti Tuuri, who also co-wrote the screenplay. Directed by Antti-Jussi Annila and starred Tommi Korpela, Sidse Babett Knudsen, Hannu-Pekka Björkman, Irina Björklund and Ville Virtanen. Wikipedia.