Book Review: Aristotle and Dante Dive Into The Waters of The World

To call Benjamin Alire Saenz’s “Aristotle and Dante Dive Into The Waters of The World” a romance would be a disservice to the book and the author. You should not read this book if you expect a no-nonsense happily ever after, or one laden with descriptions of sex. Aristotle and Dante turn a new leaf as they try to feel comfortable in their love for each other, and try to navigate the world beyond their little microcosm.

Grief and pain are potent heartbeats that drive the narrative. The grief of loss is one that's deeply explored and given space to; loss of family, friends, and community. You will find yourself searching for your own grief as the many new faces that are introduced as days pass for Ari are populated with celebration and mourning. Saenz is not afraid to welcome stereotypically sensitive subjects into his home. He creates a world where each loss has a deep impact on the reader, no matter the period for which the character remained. Grief and Love are presences that are not shirked but celebrated. How Ari handles his own grief as he see the reality of the world unfold before him shows us another side of him we would have not seen if this was your typical romance. Instead we are gifted with the internal dialogue of Ari’s mind, and his musings as he writes of his love and thoughts for Dante.

Ari’s journal entries provide a heightened sense of intimacy in an already extremely personal first-person narrative. We follow the mind of a teenage boy, turbulent to begin with, as he explores his newly realised sexuality and newly-formed relationships in the uncertain world of high-school and bigotry, we experience the private thoughts of Ari as our own, putting us firmly in his shoes as he navigates the many hurdles he comes across. Combined with the journal entries, which are addressed to Dante but are never read by him, we receive a nuanced take on Ari’s development as a human being as well as how his emotions affect him. This adds a dimension of familiarity throughout the narrative; We are constantly aware of what is going on inside Ari’s head while walking alongside him as he interacts with his new-found friends and rediscovered family. These interactions are punctuated by real-life events such as the rampant deaths of gay men at the hands of AIDS in the 1980s, and the AIDS pandemic itself. I use the word “pandemic” as Saenz does in the novel: to highlight the understatement of tragedies devastating disenfranchised minorities. In fact Saenz says about his book:

“In the years after Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe was published, I had the awful feeling in a dark corner of my heart that, in the novel, I had stopped short of exploring so many things that mattered—that mattered to me, and that mattered to other people as well. The first book turned very much inward and explored Ari and Dante facing themselves and facing each other. The book was intimate. It ended at the very moment that Ari acknowledged the love he had unknowingly buried deep inside him. The novel I wrote was deliberately sweet and tender—but it failed to examine the serious implications of a love between two boys in 1987. It ends at the easiest part of their relationship. Falling in love for the first time foregrounds Ari’s and Dante’s innocence and sense of wonder. 

But staying in love is quite another thing. I don’t mean to be so critical of the first Ari and Dante book, but it’s rather romantic and doesn’t deal with the realities of a relationship between two boys in the late eighties. The sequel turns outward, toward the culture, the society, the country, and the world in which the boys live—the world that helps define them and is often a kind of prison that impedes their freedom.” 

 And so, we are presented with the overwhelming number of climaxes as opposed to the singular in the first book. While the first book progresses slowly with only one pivotal moment, the sequel has several: the impact of which are as potent and powerful as the last. They are then accompanied by the many mature discussions about life and the life lessons that Ari takes away. At points it feels like Saenz had multiple storylines in mind while developing the narrative and couldn’t pick just one; they were all so tempting. This can get overwhelming at times, as these are highly emotionally charged scenes. Yet, the number of these scenes do not prevent the author from treating them with the respect and delicacy they warrant. 

With each page comes a masterful development of past trauma, relationship, character, and narrative. Benjamin -  a master of the craft - while taking a faster, more condensed approach compared to the first book, delivers a masterpiece that explores teenagers and their lives as the AIDS pandemic and prevalent homophobia develop in the background, only for these elements brought into the foreground on multiple occasions. This explicit grounding of reality is a personal motivation of Saenz for multiple reasons. He wishes to pay homage to the loved ones who succumbed to AIDS. Having written the sequel during the COVID pandemic, he hoped that readers would draw connections between Aristotle and Dante’s experiences and their own. 

In an effort to help Ari explore his grief, the many characters who mark these pages are philosophers in their own way. From the adults to the children, they possess their own wisdom, and as such, the title of “adulthood” is a highly contested theme throughout. Age does not define the measure of comfort and solace you can provide, and Saez beautifully demonstrates this with the many discussions around manhood, bigotry prevalent in society, and hate. 

As a result, the number of life lessons that are imparted in these few pages are many. Every few chapters, you will feel the torrent of wisdom and sadness wash over you, and you will be helpless. But this is a helplessness consented to. You will hear the characters, hear their voices blur because all they do is love Ari, and you soak in their words like milk-steeped tea. You will become coloured and tasteful, and if you're really invested, perhaps a few teardrops will fall from the heavens: knowing you probably love Ari and Dante as much as anyone in their lives. The lessons do get preachy and at times you do want to roll your eyes. In those moments, you will see yourself as the 17 year old that you have been reading about. Not Ari, but you at 17: scoffing at every piece of advice your parents gave you, thinking you could rule the world. You can, but first you'll probably need to finish the book, wipe off the errant drops on the pages, and throw away the weighted tissue paper.

You can try to stop your tears from falling, but if we feel joy with every peal of laughter, why should sadness be denied the same presence? We are all people who read a story of two people and their lives, unable to help ourselves as the tears fall and the pages flip. You will keep flipping them till the end, and your breath will shiver and break on the last. You will reach the end, close the last page, and you will know what it feels to be loved.