Paula Delgado-Kling’s aptly named book, Leonor: The Story of a Lost Childhood (OR Books 2024), details in vivid and sticky language the plight of a poor Columbian girl whose destiny could never be anything else but what it was: a tangled, complicated, and, ultimately, violent relationship with the only authority that even pretended to care about her and others like her: the FARC. This nominally Marxist terrorist organization made an untold amount of money in the production and sale of cocaine, primarily to customers in the mainland United States, and in the process, visited brutality and constant fear upon the destitute inhabitants of rural Columbia. The conflict this organization maintained with Columbia’s U.S.-backed government forces only kept Leonor and everyone else in her station in a perpetual state of anxiety and want. She was always hungry, and the FARC had food to give away. The choice was practically made for her.
Being an attractive girl was certainly no advantage. In point of truth, it was quickly a liability. Men ogled Leonor, and in no time, even as an adolescent, she was the victim of unwanted sexual advances and, eventually, rape. In these instances, in particular, Delgado-Kling respectfully exercises tact yet does not shy away from plainly underscoring the reality that was Leonor’s – that grown men, decades her senior, sometimes, had no qualms about crossing the line with a minor. If anything, this is a sad and disturbing testament to the levels some will stoop for power and money. Leonor’s world was dog-eat-dog, and because of her age, sex, and, importantly, place on the echelon in narco-state Columbia, she would never have her own agency. She would always be at the mercy of others.
There would be many rapes. There would be innumerable beatings. Even her own family would, at times, turn their backs on Leonor. She was forced to find solace where she could, which often meant reaching for a bottle or the sexual embrace of whom she did not really care. As the reader bears witness to Leonor’s metamorphosis from a person who experienced a maelstrom of abuse from a seemingly constant series of victimizers to a wounded young woman who became very good at abusing herself, the reader also sees how brokenness travels from generation to generation. As the popular saying goes, hurt people hurt; the adjective becomes the verb, and Delgado-Kling does much to shed light on this predictable phenomenon. Leonor experiences bouts of deep despair and rage, oscillating between the two extremes in jarring fashion. She considers returning to bad habits and bad people. She tries to improve her plight but gives up. Hope is always elusive. Leonor flails – cannot seem to find any bearings – however, it is only when her life comes full circle that she finds a modicum of that thing we all desire – peace. Perfection is never reached as it is never reached for the lot of us, but with Leonor, there is, at least, a horizon to walk toward and somebody to accompany her on the journey.
Leonor: The Story of a Lost Childhood is like many books in the genre of books that feature what poverty, conflict, and greed do to the young and vulnerable. It is never pretty and always begs a single question: Why? Why do we let this happen to those we should protect and nurture the most? Honest individuals know that the answer is always the same, yet even they, as evidenced by the fact that Leonor’s story is not unique, understand that fixing a world that could do what it did to her would mean fixing human nature at its core. It is a nice idea – one we should always strive for – but it will not happen. The money is just too good.
Paula Delgado-King
Paula Delgado-Kling holds degrees in comparative literature and French civilizations, international affairs, and creative writing from Brown, Columbia, and the New School, respectively. This is her first book. She lives in Florida with her family and their dog.
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