And of Clay Are We Created

A common conception of humanity’s place in the natural world is as a unilaterally and irredeemably destructive force. Though humanity’s impact on the world that surrounds us is undeniable—and, indeed, sometimes ruinous—Allende’s story presents the actions of humankind and nature in lockstep just as frequently as she presents them in conflict. Rather than embodying a scourge-victim dichotomy, humans and natural forces react in similar ways to changes in their surroundings.

In the immediate aftermath of the disaster, there is an express focus on the “desolate” look in Azucena’s eyes (Paragraph 6). This term implies a forced emptiness—a destruction of what once was and the entry of a trauma-induced bareness. The emotional vacancy in Azucena’s face is the logical product of enduring the deaths of all who once knew her: In the wake of her loss, there is the double-pronged absence of both her visible emotion and her literal relatives and acquaintances. The individual desolation that Azucena represents mirrors the desolation the mudslide imposes on the natural environment that surrounds her. The mud, after swallowing all villages, townspeople, and vegetation in its path, turns to quicksand that not only gives the area the appearance of a desert but also necessitates a degree of absence. The mudslide makes it impossible for any potential rescuer to reach Azucena, keeping the area that immediately surrounds her barren of detectable life: “[A]nyone attempting to reach her was in danger of sinking” (Paragraph 6). This is a moment where the area itself, by furthering Azucena’s loneliness, keeps its desolation and Azucena’s in terrible, perfect sync. Figuratively, the isolation also hints at the impossibility of real empathy in the wake of extreme tragedy, since the people the mud keeps physically at bay are also those for whom Azucena’s suffering is a spectacle.

The significance that Azucena assigns to the natural world’s caprices makes this relationship all the worse; when it begins to rain, she personifies the sky and notes that it “is weeping” (Paragraph 19). She begins to cry herself, demonstrating her own deep-seated emotional identification with the rainfall. While this scene furthers the parallel between Azucena and the natural world (the narrative alludes to her head sprouting from the mud like a plant), it also demonstrates her innocence; describing rainfall as tears is the sort of uncomplicated yet obliquely profound observation a child might make. Additionally, the “weeping” that Azucena points out furthers the personification of the natural world by assigning to it not pain, but one of the most common manifestations of pain-processing: palliative grieving. The interconnectedness of the human and natural worlds turns the sky’s manifest “sadness” into an emotion that may apply to either the calamitous loss of life or the lamentable destruction of the mountain face itself (perhaps even both). This heightened environmental empathy also makes the failures of human-to-human empathy in the story all the more glaring; the emotional resonance that exists between Azucena and the landscape is largely inaccessible to those who witness the tragedy, and who instead simply project their own emotions onto it.