Conventionally, novels dealing with conflict are fairly closely linked to reality, to the specifics of a given historical event. Think of all the novels depicting a the World Wars, Vietnam, Cambodia or the ongoing atrocities between the Israelis and the Palestinians. The point of these books is very often to give a human face, an emotional understanding to great historical events. I mention this, because on the face of it 'The Armies' looks set to do the same thing set as it is in a small town in Colombia that becomes the frontline in fighting between the military and unnamed rebel forces.
In fact though, Rosero's book sticks two fingers up at the conventions of the war novel. Here is a book called 'The Armies' that never once talks about the combattants, neither to explain who they are nor why they are fighting. This novel, from the outset sets to ridicule the reader and war reporting in general; Rosero seems to say 'you want to know about every horror, every detail but you don't care why this is happening, so I won't tell you'. As if to underline this voyeuristic element of war reportage, Rosero gives us a central protagonist a dirty old man, a lech, a peeping Tom.
This is a novel that will tell you nothing about Colombia and nothing about the origin or context of the conflict it portrays. Instead it delights in showing you in graphic detail the confusion and depravity that such a conflict engenders. The reviewers listed on this site praised the book for its depiction of the horrors of war and its emotional impact, but to do this without social or historical context is simply to revel in plumbing the depths of human behaviour.
Right to the end, the 'Profesor' (our lecherous, yet respected former school teacher narrator) takes in as much as he can of what is going on around him. He's an elderly man, yet he doesn't decide to hide from the action, to cower in fear. No, he decides to go around the town, ostensibly looking for his wife. The novel is fuelled not by a coventional story but by the human desire to observe, to see the affliction of others no matter how terrible. Our 'Profesor' states that he wants to be put out of his misery, but it is not because he is suffering - he seems immune to the privations of food, comfort or sleep - but because in observing the horrors around him and the women in particular, he knows he is doing that he shouldn't. The message is overt and accusatory: Why are you reading about all this horrible stuff and legitimising it as emotional reportage? That his novel has gone on to win prizes for its emotional portrayal of the horrors of conflict is I'm sure, a delicious irony not lost on its author.