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    Hispania [Publicaciones periódicas]. Volume 78, Number 2, May 1995
    
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Reading the Body Imperiled: Violence against Women in María de Zayas

Lisa Vollendorf

University of Pennsylvania



Abstract: María de Zayas's Novelas amorosas (1637) and Desengaños amorosos (1647) portray myriad acts of violence against women. Zayas's employ of the female body as the focal point of the texts coincides with Foucault's interpretation of the use of the body in the seventeenth century as the «site for the reproduction of truth». Additionally, contemporary theories on violence against women highlight parallels between the dynamics of domestic violence and Zayas's representation of violence against women. Two of the novellas of the Desengaños amorosos, «Mal presagio casar lejos» and «El verdugo de su esposa», are particularly scathing in their critique of the patriarchy.

Key Words: 17th century, Zayas y Sotomayor (María de), Spanish literature, women's writing, narrative, feminism, violence against women, Foucault (Michel), Novelas amorosas, Desengaños amorosos



                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       Catch it. Put it in a pumpkin, in a high tower, in a compound, in a chamber, in a house, in a room. Quick, stick a leash on it, a lock, a chain, some pain, settle it down, so it can never get away from you again. Margaret Atwood, «The Female Body» (493)

     In María de Zayas's two framed novella collections, at least thirty women are physically victimized by male-authored violence which includes abuse, rape, torture, and murder. In fact, many of the actions mentioned by Margaret Atwood in the above quote are performed on the female body in the Novelas amorosas y exemplares (1637) and in the Desengaños amorosos (1647), all of this in an effort, as Atwood says, to settle the woman's body down «so it can never get away». At every turn, women are persecuted by their male lovers, husbands, and brothers, and through these violations the hypocrisy and misogyny of the Spanish patriarchy are exposed and exploited. In an oft-quoted statement, Laura, the protagonist of the fifth novella in the Novelas amorosas, gives testimony to Zayas's indictment of the oppressive treatment of women:

           ¿Por qué, vanos legisladores del mundo, atáis nuestras manos para las venganzas, imposibilitando nuestras fuerzas con vuestras falsas opiniones, pues nos negáis letras y armas? ¿El alma no es la misma que la de los hombres? (193)(27)           

Pleading to men, who are, after all, relegated authority over domestic, social, and political affairs in patriarchy, Zayas's character protests the oppression of women. As suggested by the frustrated tone of this passage, the violence and suffering depicted in Zayas's novellas illustrate the injustices and double standards of the patriarchy, understood here in its most basic sense as the form of social organization in which the father is the supreme authority in domestic, social, and political affairs, as the primary culprits in the plight of women.

     While Laura is beaten by her husband and consults with a witch to win him back, she eventually enters the convent rather than return to her adulterous marriage. Many protagonists do not fare as well as this convent-bound character, however. By the time we reach the Desengaños amorosos, six of the ten tales are resolved through femicide, that is, through the misogynist killing of women by men (Radford and [273] Russell xiv). Oppressed and violated by husbands, brothers, and other men entrusted with their care, Zayas's female characters struggle to survive in a fictional world which fills the psychic distance separating the sexes with a river of feminine blood.

     A perennial problem facing readers of these violent texts is the question of veracity. Critics have explained Zayasian violence by taking her graphic depictions of abuse and murder at face value (e.g. Amezúa) or by rejecting it as an expression of «militant feminism» (Chevalier 31). In this same vein, others have reacted to the violence of the Desengaños as an «exaggerated commentary on the situation of women in seventeenth-century Spain» (Clamurro 44). These observations betray a concern with knowing at what point, if any, the violence in the novellas coincides with the realities of women at the time the texts were written. While different generations of critics have grappled with this issue, their approaches have inevitably lacked the socio-historical information which in the last decade or so has begun to emerge about women in Golden Age Spain(28). Only recently have historians and literary critics made a concerted effort to recover the archeology of the feminine. With the rise of feminist criticism, the critical eye has turned to the recovery of women's history, with scholars such as Sheila Fisher and Janet Halley calling for a critique of

           the extraliterary textual constructions that presented (society's) own readings of medieval and early modern women: the contemporary economic, legal, political, and religious systems and codes articulating the parameters of women's access to power and self-determination. (6)           

Such social, historical, and literary contextualizations can facilitate an understanding of Zayas's position as a woman writing during times of severe cultural control in Counter-Reformation Spain. While an examination of violence in seventeenth-century Spanish society highlights Zayas's use of the female body as the site of power struggles, a reading of two novellas in light of late twentieth-century theories of domestic violence reveals remarkable parallels between Zayas's representation of violence and what we now know to be characteristics of violence against women in many societies.

     The violent ambience of seventeenth-century Spain validates and expands upon Zayas's employ of the female body as the battleground in the war between the sexes. And, keeping in tune with the specifically feminist project of educating both sexes about the victimization of women, Zayas's depiction of masculine violence pointedly overlaps with theories of violence against women. Zayas's attack on the patriarchy reaches to the very core of this social system: the fundamental definition of patriarchy as a cultural system which deems the father head of family and state is criticized and its weaknesses exposed.



I. The Body as Truth

     Recent inquiry into the connection between the preponderance of violence in Baroque literature, especially in the comedia where wife-murder abounds, and contemporaneous cultural phenomena generally has concluded that there exists little or no correlation between real and literary violence (McKendrick and Stroud). Zayas capitalizes on the popularity of such fictional violence by choosing the female body as the primary site on which to inscribe the oppressiveness of the patriarchy. Although this concentration on the body has been interpreted as «the inscription of obsessive desire» (Gartner 189), Zayas's texts point to a highly politicized agenda which reaches far beyond the realm of desire: hers is a feminist exercise concerned with defining and challenging the body politic.

     In both the Novelas amorosas and the Desengaños amorosos, several references to facts and figures are made which help to firmly ground the novellas in their historical context. As H. Patsy Boyer has noted, «The multifarious effects of Spain's militarism on society in general hold a prominent place in Zayas's works» («Historical Background» [274] xxxiii). The expulsion of the Moors in 1609 and the Catalan revolt of 1640 are both specifically mentioned in the Desengaños amorosos, for example, and serve as signs of ethnic and political unrest that characterized much of the seventeenth century in Spain. The poem dedicated to Philip IV, which appears on the third night of the Novelas amorosas, also provides a clear temporal setting for the novellas. With these references, Zayas locates her novellas in their time, place, and culture. Coinciding with this historical grounding offered by the texts, the narrative reflects the practices surrounding criminal justice (particularly as they were implemented by the Inquisition), complete with excesses of punishment, the presumption of guilt upon accusation, and the injustices that accompany such practices.

     In Discipline and Punish, Michel Foucault compares the pre-eighteenth century criminal justice system of western Europe with our modern one, signaling the use of «the body and the spectacle for the reproduction of truth» as a defining philosophy in the seventeenth century (97). In other words, the accepted fashion of arriving at truth heavily depended on the manipulation of the body: torture, often carried out publicly, was used to extract (what was considered to be) true confession. Foucault's assertion captures the thinking of the Inquisition, whose autos de fe punished those who violated Catholic ideology: bodies were routinely quartered, strangled, garroted, and burned under the public gaze. The crucial role played by these highly dramatic public executions as a mechanism of control exemplifies Foucault's description of the (re)production of truth through the body and the spectacle: through the body the justice system produced truth, forcing people to confess and deterring heretic behavior through the spectacle of the auto de fe(29).

     Zayas's texts transpose this ideology of physical violation to the world of fiction and, more specifically, to the woman's body. For while some men also suffer, the texts repeatedly refer back to the female body as the primary site of violation. Firmly grounded in the post-Tridentine requirement that literature be instructional, the Desengaños amorosos appropriate and adapt the cultural code of violence to fit Zayas's pro-woman purposes and to demonstrate women's truth through the display of the violated female body. Lisis, the frame-tale protagonist whose soirees provide the setting for the telling of the tales in both volumes, demands that only women narrate, and that they tell true tales of masculine deceit. Thus the frame characters are charged with «disenchanting» their audience, a task that entails «un-deceiving» (desengañar) and educating both men and women about masculine treachery and violence. This exclusion of the male narrative voice has the explicit purpose of restoring women's good name and of recovering the lost feminine voice:

           Y como son los hombres los que presiden en todo, jamás cuentan los malos pagos que dan, sino lo que les dan; y si bien lo miran, ellos cometen la culpa, y ellas siguen tras su opinión... que lo cierto es que no hubiera malas mujeres si no hubiera malos hombres. (333)           

Based on this statement, Amy Williamsen observes that the soiree is based on «women's usurpation of a previously male dominated sphere» (643). With this purposeful exclusion of men from the narrative act, in other words, a certain liberation takes place and the imperiled female body becomes the focus of the tales. So that while men are occasionally victimized in the novellas, the insistence on women's perspective and masculine deceit emphasizes the totality of feminine suffering as it is endured on both physical and emotional levels. Complying with the mandate to tell true tales of female disenchantment, the ten female narrators release in graphic detail the terrors experienced by women which, more often than not, result in the death of the protagonists. Regardless of their varying degrees of innocence and guilt, female characters perish simply because their male protectors consciously decide to end the women's lives, for different, yet ultimately proprietary, reasons. [275]

     Unleashed by the exclusion of the male narrative voice, violence against women reaches epidemic proportions in the Desengaños amorosos. Although the historical record provides minimal information on the situation of women with regard to violence in the home at this time, María Helena Sánchez Ortega's research on sorcery has revealed similarities among spells used by women on the Iberian Peninsula in an effort to influence men in matters of the heart. Based on the records of the 1655 Valencian sorcery trials, Sánchez Ortega concludes: «No doubt the women of the Habsburg regime feared their companion's violent tempers, proof of which is frequently documented in the declarations» (67). She details accounts of different women who resorted to magic because they were either persecuted or feared persecution by their husbands:

           Prudencia Grillo, tried by the Toledo tribunal, justifiably resorted to magic because she was afraid of being locked in a castle by the man on whom she depended. Other women also speak of the bad treatment they received at the hands of their husbands or lovers, and of attempts on their lives in various forms. One woman even stated that she was fed ground glass in a murder attempt. (67)           

These statements recall several incidents of violence in the Desengaños amorosos.

     Two of Zayas's characters are enclosed by their husbands and fathers, for example. As punishment for being entranced and raped nightly for over a month, Inés, in «La inocencia castigada», is trapped in a small makeshift torture chamber for over six years. Upon being rescued, the emaciated, blind Inés's worm-eaten flesh speaks for her suffering:

           los vestidos, hechos ceniza, que se le veían las más partes de su cuerpo; descalza de pie y pierna, que de los excrementos de su cuerpo, como no tenía dónde echarlos, no sólo se habían consumido, mas la propia carne comida hasta los muslos de llagas y gusanos, de que estaba lleno el hediondo lugar. (428)           

This character's sexual impurity, caused by the repeated violation of her body by a man, plays out Prudencia Grillo's fears of being «locked in a castle» as described in her testimony to the tribunal. Other female characters who are perceived by men to be sexually impure, such as Laurela in «Amar sólo por vencer», Elena in «Tarde llega el desengaño», and Beatriz in «La perseguida triunfante», are either enclosed in or physically removed from their domestic spaces. And, as Amy Williamsen has so poetically stated, when Laurela dies by having a wall pushed onto her, the patriarchal structure, as figured by the walls themselves, comes tumbling down, proving the social consequences of imposing the honor code to its greatest degree (646).

     Another character whose victimization disturbs the patriarchal order is Camila in «La más infame venganza»: used as a pawn in a cycle of masculine betrayal and vengeance, she is raped by another man then fed poison by her suddenly hateful husband who perceives her as sexually contaminated after the rape. The poison does not immediately kill her, however, and as her body grows to monstrous proportions, male power over her physical self is secured: « (H)inchóse toda con tanta monstruosidad, que sus brazos y piernas parecían unas gordísimas columnas, y el vientre se apartaba una gran vara de la cintura» (398). Made grotesque by male jealousy and rage, Camila transcends her physical state and remains in good spirits throughout the six-month period that precedes her death. Once again the texts coincide with the fears expressed by a woman quoted by Sánchez Ortega: while the woman at the tribunal was fed ground glass, Camila was poisoned and made to suffer for her victimization.

     Such is the collective power of so many characters suffering, in fact, that Lisis decides to withdraw from her planned marriage and enter a convent. Significantly, this unusual outcome to the frame tale is explained using the language of the body, thereby securing the connection between the novellas proper (which focus on the feminine body) and the frame tale. Lisis describes her decision to retreat to the female realm of the convent as evidence that she herself will be the greatest disenchantment of all. Before telling her tale, she hints [276] at her refusal to marry:

           De manera, que aquí me he puesto a hablar sin engaño, y yo misma he de ser el mayor desengaño, porque sería morir del engaño y no vivir del aviso, si desengañando a todas, me dexase yo engañar. (634, emphasis added)           

Later, after narrating a bloody tale and citing the grave predicaments of the novella protagonists, Lisis calls husbands the archenemies of women and leaves the soiree holding two women's hands, the three of them off to the convent to later be joined by Lisis's and Isabel's mothers (669). Elizabeth Ordóñez's observation that Zayas «inscribes power into the plots of women, making women agents and subjects, even if only temporarily or surreptitiously» (6) is evidenced in the frame tale by Lisis's final empowered move as she withdraws from her marriage promise.

     The offering of Lisis's body as «el mayor desengaño» is significant, since from the outset of the Novelas amorosas and particularly in the Desengaños amorosos her health and happiness are woven into the tapestry of the texts. The first soiree, constituted by the Novelas amorosas, is held at Christmas to entertain the ailing Lisis, who suffers from a fever caused by Juan's lack of affection. The guests are placed at the whim of Lisis's health from the beginning, then, with the sole purpose of the narration being to divert her attention from her sickness. From the turbulent relationship between herself and Juan, who leaves her for another lover, to her new-found unsatisfactory love with Diego, Lisis is plagued by amorous woes which ultimately cause her to plunge into a year-long illness during the space that falls between the Novelas amorosas and the Desengaños amorosos. Instability in love causes physical harm, as the main narrator confirms: «Bien sentía el ingrato don Juan ser él la causa de la enfermedad de Lisis, pues el frío de sus tibiezas eran la mayor calentura de la dama» (331). The discourse of illness is thus carried over into the second collection, with the presentation of Lisis's body as the text upon which the difficulties of love are written. The recovered, obedient daughter complies with her mother's wish that she become engaged to Diego, and the second soiree is convened to celebrate the upcoming wedding.

     Lisis's friendship with Isabel clearly supports the emphasis on the body as text. Disguised as a slave with a brand on her face, Isabel is given to Lisis as a gift and eventually cures her mistress/friend, succeeding where medical science and her suitor's attentions failed. It is no coincidence, then, that Isabel also offers herself as a bodily text, choosing to be a slave in order, as Lou Charnon-Deutsch has stated, to become in the physical world what her lover made her in metaphysical terms (17). There is no doubt that her autobiographical story depends on the language of the body, for Manuel's rape of her while she is unconscious and her subsequent travels as a slave repeatedly figure her body as the text of violation and suffering. Finding release as she finds her voice and recovers her true identity, Isabel removes the physical manifestations of her emotional pain, explaining: «(E)stos hierros que veis en mi rostro no son sino sombras de los que ha puesto en mi claridad y fama la ingratitud de un hombre; y para que me deis más crédito, veislos aquí quitados» (339). Like Lisis when she deems herself «el mayor desengaño», Isabel reveals an acute understanding of the language of the body and actively assimilates and adopts it in an act of defiance against the sexual economy, rejecting marriage and opting for the sanctity of the all-woman environment of the convent. These key characters, whose turns at narration introduce and close the second soiree, exemplify the detrimental effects of heterosexual relationships on the female body while simultaneously epitomizing the possibility for escaping the worse fates of the tortured, terrorized, and violated women of the novellas proper.

     Nancy Miller has noted, «To reread as a woman is at least to imagine the lady's place; to imagine while reading the place of a woman's body; to read reminded that her identity is also re-membered in stories of the body» (355). Sustaining the damaging [277] effects of love on the female body, Lisis's illnesses prefigure and, in the Desengaños amorosos, mirror the perils of heterosexual relationships as seen from the female perspective. Zayas's Desengaños, with their inclusion of physical and emotional violation including everything from rape to decapitation, encourage readers to imagine the place of the woman's body. From the brand placed on Isabel's cheek as a sign of slavery to the swollen, poisoned body of Camila to the wife strangled by her own hair to the decapitated Ana, the female body throughout the novellas is dismembered and displayed so that female suffering may be remembered. The victimized female body in these novellas signifies the power of men over women, just as bodies mutilated and punished by the Inquisition served as «gruesome reminders of the power of the city and royal governments to carry out violence against those who challenged their authority» (Perry, Crime and Society 143). The female body in Zayas becomes the site of truth speaking through its bruises and bloodied flesh for the injustices of a cultural system which sanctions the acting out of men's fears, suspicions, and aggressions onto women.



II. Reading the Body

     Zayas's representation of female victimization encompasses an entire range of suffering which reaches from depression and frustration to physical pain and torture. Through this representation of oppression, fear, and danger, Zayas layers her commentary on the patriarchy to include such issues as psychological wife abuse and various aspects of conjugal violence which, until recently, have not even figured in discussions of violence against women. As Ruth Nadelhaft has observed, treating the subject of domestic violence pointedly raises questions about woman's status, placing the reader in the position of identifying his or her position on the issue (247). Considering that domestic violence as a topic of study and public discussion did not arise in the United States until the 1970s, Zayas's systematic representation of this phenomenon is extraordinary(30). Commenting on both the long history of violence against women and the dearth of public discussion and written record on the subject, Jan Horsfall writes, «Patriarchies have no doubt produced a long and mostly unwritten history of wife battering» (18). Yet Zayas provides us with a multi-faceted literary treatment of violence against women which takes into account psychological as well as physical impacts of violence and of its threatening presence.

     The violence of the Desengaños fixes the reader's attention on the violated female body as a testimony of misogyny. Frustrated in their attempts at self-protection, speech, and even survival, the female characters in the Desengaños are, as a whole, denied the empowerment achieved by their counterparts in the Novelas amorosas. As opposed to the popular marriage ending of the previous collection, matrimony here is shown as «inimical to female values and survival» (Boyer, «The Ravages» 4). Resolution is found either in femicide (in six of the novellas) or in the convent (in the remaining four). Heterosexual relationships are portrayed as oppressive, unjust, and, above all, dangerous to women's physical safety. The characters's retreats to the convent repeatedly figure the convent as the only possibility for escape from masculine brutalities which plague women.

     The femicide of the Desengaños centers around a pervasive masculine paranoia of female freedom, especially sexual freedom. Camila, Roseleta, Ana, Magdalena, and six other wives die at the hands of their husbands, while the unwed Laurela and Mencía fall victim to their father and brother, respectively. All of these deaths occur due to the men's proprietary views toward women: their anger, jealousy, greed, or misogyny out of control, Zayas's male characters view women as their property and therefore feel justified in their use of the female body as the repository for masculine aggression. These male characters, in other words, justify the practice of killing women. This attitude coincides with sociologists Margo [278] Wilson and Martin Daly's assessment of male proprietariness as a primary motive for wife-killing. They state:

           In every society for which we have been able to find a sample of spousal homicides, the story is basically the same: most cases arise out of the husband's jealous, proprietary, violent response to his wife's (real or imagined) infidelity or desertion. (90)           

The authors conclude that «the motives in wife-killing exhibit a dreary consistency across cultures and across centuries» (96). Zayas's texts, like the wife-murder comedias, also exhibit a «dreary consistency» in their portrayal of femicide: viewed as chattel by men, the women are treated as property rather than as human beings.

     A closer look at the dynamics of violence as they relate to male proprietariness exposes a misaligned masculine logic which threatens a veritable snuffing out of the feminine. Indeed, if it weren't for the option of the convent, chosen by several as their safehouse, the female characters would have no place of their own in which to seek refuge from the violence. The violence against women proliferated in the Desengaños incorporates many of the characteristics of violent relationships laid out by Lenore Walker in The Battered Woman, including the elements of initial surprise, unpredictability of battering incidents, overwhelming jealousy, unusual male sexuality, concealment, extreme psychological abuse, family threats, extraordinary terror, perceived omnipotence of the batterer, and the victim's awareness of death potential (73-75). The first researcher to discover and explain the cycle of violence in battering relationships, Walker also identifies the three phases in the abuse cycle. The Tension Building Phase, constituted by minor incidents of battering and general psychological abuse, is followed by the Acute Battering Phase in which an uncontrollable discharge of the residual tensions occurs in the form of violence. Finally, the third phase, that of Kindness and Contrite Behavior, involves a kind attitude on the part of the batterer in an attempt to gain back the favor of the woman he abused (55-70). Zayas's portrayal of many of these dynamics of violence against women throughout the Desengaños underscores for the late-twentieth-century reader the patterns among all types of violence against women and the consistency of such violence over time.

     With their proprietary motivations for femicide, the seventh and eighth novellas of the Desengaños particularly exemplify, through their underlying critique of patriarchy, many characteristics of male violence as identified by Walker(31). «Mal presagio casar lejos» and «El verdugo de su esposa» attack this cultural system in its strictest definition: the tales exploit the absolute power of the father figure so as to criticize the very basis of the social structure which relegates women to the underclass in order to assure the continuation of male rule. The sons in these two novellas blindly follow their fathers's orders, attempting to please the paternal at the expense of women's lives. The father's law is firmly ingrained here, as are misogynist and proprietary attitudes towards women which result in a violent erasure of the feminine from the texts, thereby exemplifying the dangers of allowing paternal law to go unchecked. Implicit, then, in these juxtaposed tales, is a wake-up call for the frame tale listeners and the reader: Zayas's claims for political and attitudinal reform are manifested through the deaths of these female characters.

     Coinciding to a tee with Walker's three-phase cycle of violence, «Mal presagio» embeds the misogynist subtext in the politics of Philip II's reign. The annihilation of Blanca and her sisters by foreign royalty presumably posits a safe distance between the reader and the atrocities by locating the violence in other countries, attributing such brutality to political tensions in the Spanish Empire. Yet the perverse creativity and precise execution of the femicides of the women in the novella transcend the political framework, particularly since the murder of a Flemish woman by her father leaves no doubt as to the blatant misogyny behind the violence. While the Portuguese husband goes to great lengths to fake a love [279] letter in his wife's handwriting in order to justifiably stab her to death, an Italian husband actually uses his wife's body against her, using her hair to strangle her because she praised a Spanish man. Significantly, both of these uxoricides are framed in terms of falsified sexual impropriety, with the blatantly misogynist husbands seeking out this culturally sanctioned excuse to kill their wives. After all, the legal justification for uxoricide appears in the Spanish law code of the time: the Nueva Recopilación recognizes the husband's right to kill his wife and her lover if they are caught in the act of adultery(32). Implicit in the murders of these wives, then, is an attack on the freedom given to men with regard to control of female sexuality and subjectivity.

     Furthermore, in «Mal presagio» the protagonist's marriage is framed in terms of paternal control. Agreeing to marry «(p)or conveniencias a la real corona y gusto de su hermano» (521), the orphaned Blanca demands that her Flemish suitor court her in Spain. The Flemish prince agrees and departs for Spain «si bien a descontento de su padre» (521). Thus cast in terms of the empire and the father, this matrimony is conceived, contracted, and conceded to with the paternal lurking as a major force. With the ire of the father-in-law directed toward her, Blanca receives a vicious anti-Spanish tongue lashing upon her arrival in Flanders, and here begins the psychological abuse and tension-building that characterizes the first phase of the cycle of violence. In spite of her initial resistance to her new husband, Blanca is surprised by the treatment she encounters.

     The acute battering of the second phase of violence occurs when the prince and his father interrupt Blanca's lament. An argument ensues, with the prince «maltratándola tanto, que fue milagro salir de sus manos con vida» (536). In spite of the painful memory of the beating that surges every time she sees him, Blanca, like many modern-day victims of wife-abuse, is said to still love her husband. Shortly thereafter, the sister-in-law is garroted by her own husband and father. Blanca's husband enters the phase of kindness now, for when Blanca asks him about his father's malevolence, the prince distances himself from his father, justifying his father's actions by saying that he must have had reason to kill Marieta.

     Terrorized and helpless, Blanca hereafter is aware of the possibility of her own death and makes the proper arrangements. Blanca's practical behavior here indicates that she perceives the danger of living in a house where the father's wish is the sons command. Meanwhile, she discovers her husband having sex with his (male) page, which, as an act considered aberrant and evil in seventeenth-century Spain, definitely falls under Walker's category of «unusual male sexuality»(33). Phase One begins again as the tensions build, with Blanca ordering that the bed be burned. This time, however, Blanca will not survive: she is bled to death under the watchful eye of the father-in-law, with the husband morbidly pleading for her salvation only when the blood flows from her veins. Ultimately the father has the last word, sending the son out of the room and triumphantly crying, «Así tuviera a todas las de su nación como tengo a ésta» (542). So ends the life of this protagonist, whose marriage and victimization are motivated by the desire to please the paternal. Masked in international political tensions, the abuse and femicide of this novella transcend national concerns and demonstrate a deep-rooted misogyny that knows no borders of time or place.

     The juxtaposed eighth novella, «El verdugo de su esposa», builds on the father-pleasing femicide of «Mal presagio casar lejos» by re-casting the plot in terms of a son's quest to please his father at the cost of two women's lives. Here the feminine perspective is diminished and the phases of violence and the characteristics of abusive relationships no longer play a significant role. Instead, the novella concerns the blatant misogyny of a father and his son which leaves two women's cadavers as evidence of their proprietary attitudes. Perceiving his daughter as a financial liability akin to a bad investment, avarice motivates Pedro to wish for her a religious life, potentially enabling [280] him to leave his entire fortune to his only son, Alonso(34). In an effort to escape her father's control, Mencía marries her suitor; yet her defiance results in her death and the attempted murder of her lover at the hands her brother. Importantly, the act of vengeance occurs with the father's consent and assistance. Another father enters into this femicide as well: Alonso informs a priest, appropriately addressing him as Padre, of his murderous intentions. Such is the priest's fear that he merely hears Mencía's confession and leaves, not daring to tell anyone about the femicide until it is made public.

     Proceeding to Naples with his father's financial backing, Alonso defies his father's wishes by marrying a woman of modest station. Eventually disowned for his actions, he blames his resultant poverty on his wife and turns against her in hatred when his father expresses displeasure with the match. In an effort to regain his father's favor, Alonso enlists a male friend to assist him in decapitating his wife, an action accomplished in a dinner table scene similar to the murder of Marieta in the previous tale. Alonso and his friend are ultimately executed for their crimes, but when the news reaches Pedro in Spain he is filled with pride, proclaiming, «Más quiero tener un hijo degollado que mal casado» (572). With these words, the father yet again condones femicide, applauding his son's efforts to please him.

     In these two novellas, Zayas exploits the dangers that paternal rule poses for women. The paternally-imposed mindset which facilitates the annihilation of the feminine serves as a metaphor for the patriarchy and its abuses of women which occur in the other eight novellas of the Desengaños and in five of the Novelas amorosas. These male characters, killing to please their fathers and to thereby sustain the male line of power, exhibit dehumanized, proprietary attitudes toward their female relatives, and freely abuse the female body whenever the rule of the father is violated or threatened. «Mal presagio casar lejos», which involves psychological and physical abuse as well as many other characteristics of wife abuse, demonstrates the parallels between Walker's observations on violent relationships and Zayas's representation of this phenomenon. The portrayal of the fathers in these Zayasian novellas as causing and condoning abusive behavior in their sons also coincides with theories on the intergenerational effects of violent behavior: as Bonnie Yegidis has pointed out, many researchers now perceive modeling or imitative behavior as the number one factor contributing to family violence (26). With aggressive fathers who encourage and applaud violence against women, the sons in these novellas obediently respond by carrying out the violent acts, seeking to please their fathers and maintain male power by shedding female blood.



III. Resistance to Violence

     Zayas's literary representation of violence as it is inscribed on the female body registers vehement protest against the treatment of women. In Femicide: The Politics of Woman Killing, Jill Radford states, «The very act of speaking out against femicide is itself an act of resistance» (303). Zayas's texts register the voice of resistance to the tolerated oppression and abuse of women under patriarchal rule. The abundance of violence against women which comes as a result of Lisis's insistence on true narrative and all-female narration in the Desengaños proves that women's stories need to be told by women themselves: for women's side of the story and their tale of abuse emerges with force only with exclusion of the masculine narrative voice. Through these stories of violence and victimization the frame characters turn the personal into the political: the repeated abuse of the female body attacks the flawed social system which propagates and sanctions violence against women.

     Ranging in scope and severity, the violence proliferated throughout Zayas's novellas exposes the culturally configured attitudes toward the female body as the receptacle for masculine aggression and fear. The similarities between Zayas's representation [281] of violence and the cultural use of violence and between the dynamics of violent relationships and contemporary theories on wife abuse/murder suggest a strong connection between the texts and their socio-historical context. These parallels indicate that Zayas wrote with a knowledge of the dynamics of violence against women and an understanding of the oppressive patriarchal value system. As Zayas transfers to the female body the Foucauldian cultural paradigm of the body as truth and spectacle, female blood speaks for the imperiled state of women under patriarchal rule. Through this appropriation of cultural authority by which the body is manipulated for truth-seeking purposes, the Desengaños amorosos give voice to women's suffering by privileging the feminine perspective and displaying the dismembered body in order to remember it again.

     Lisis's final speech confirms the political agenda of the Desengaños and encourages women to mobilize if men do not change their ways. Her words harken back to the beginning when she helped women carve out a space for their stories to be heard in the feminine voice. Yet now the tone has become threatening. After enumerating the long list of female suffering as told in the ten novellas, Lisis announces her decision to enter a convent. She demands that women stop deceiving themselves about men's behavior, and that men improve their treatment of women or face the consequences,

           porque si mi defensa por escrito no basta, será fuerza que todas tomemos las armas para defendernos de sus malas intenciones... (669)           

Calling for nothing less than a social revolution, Lisis's words summarize the intended effect of the Desengaños amorosos, while her move to the convent indicates that she is unwilling to compromise her future safety in a society that devalues and dismembers women.

     Promised to be the greatest disenchantment of all, Lisis's retreat to the safety of the convent figures her self as resistance par excellence: with the above farewell, she entreats other women to follow her example as she exits the soiree holding two women's hands, leaving her would-be husband thunderstruck. Through the violent inscription of the father's law on the woman's body, Lisis has read women's truth, seeing the powerlessness of women. Having heard about women being caught, put in a chamber, a house, a room, being leashed and locked and chained, she decides that, rather than let someone else settle her down, she will take charge of her body by removing it to the sanctity of the convent. [282]



WORKS CITED

     Amezúa, Agustín G. de, ed. «Prólogo». Desengaños amorosos. Parte segunda del sarao y entretenimiento honesto. Madrid: Real Academia Española, 1950. vii-xxiv.

     Atwood, Margaret. «The Female Body». Michigan Quarterly Review (Fall 1990): 490-93.

     Boyer, H. Patsy, trans. «Historical Background». The Enchantments of Love. By María de Zayas. Berkeley: U of California P, 1989. xxxii-xxxv.

     _____. «The Ravages of Vice and the Vice of Telling Stories». Voces a ti debidas. In Honor of Ruth El Saffar. Eds. Marie Cort Daniels et al. Colorado Springs, CO: Colorado College Studies, 1993. 29-34.

     Charnon-Deutsch, Lou. «The Sexual Economy in the Narrative of María de Zayas». Letras Femeninas 17.1-2 (Spring-Fall 1991): 15-28.

     Chevalier, Maxime. «Un cuento, una comedia, cuatro novelas (Lope de Rueda, Juan Timoneda, Cristóbal de Tamariz, Lope de Vega, María de Zayas). «Essays on Narrative Fiction in the Iberian Peninsula in Honour of Frank Pierce. Ed. R. B. Tate. Oxford: Dolphin, 1982. 26-38.

     Clamurro, William H. «Ideological Contradiction and Imperial Decline: Towards a Reading of Zayas's Desengaños amorosos». South Central Review 5.2 (1988): 43-50.

     Cobbe, Frances Power. «Wife Torture in England». Contemporary Review 32 (April 1878): 55-87.

     Dobash, R. Emerson, and Russell Dobash. Violence against Wives. A Case against the Patriarchy. NY: The Free Press, 1979.

     Fisher, Sheila, and Janet E. Halley, eds. «Introduction». The Lady Vanishes. The Problem of Women's Absence by Late Medieval and Renaissance Texts. Knoxville: U of Tennessee P, 1989. 1-17.

     Foucault, Michel. Discipline and Punish. Trans. Alan Sheridan. NY: Pantheon, 1977.

     Flynn, Maureen. «Mimesis of the Last Judgment: The Spanish auto de fe». Sixteenth Century Journal 22.2 (1990): 281-97.

     Gartner, Bruce. «María de Zayas y Sotomayor: The Poetics of Subversion». Diss. Emory University, 1989.

     Horsfall, Jan. The Presence of the Past. Male Violence in the Family. Sydney, Australia: Allen & Unwin, 1991.

     Kamen, Henry. The Inquisition and Society and Spain in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1985.

     King, Margaret. Women in the Renaissance. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1991.

     McKendrick, Melveena. Women and Society in the Spanish Drama of the Golden Age: A Study of the Mujer varonil. London: Cambridge UP, 1974.

     Miller, Nancy K. «Rereading as a Woman: The Body in Practice». The Female Body in Western Culture. Ed. Susan Suleiman. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1986.354-62.

     Nadelhaft, Ruth. «Domestic Violence in Literature: A Preliminary Study». Mosaic 17.2 (Spring 1984): 242-59.

     Ordóñez, Elizabeth. «Woman and Her Text in the Works of María de Zayas and Ana Caro». Revista de Estudios Hispánicos 19.1 (January 1985): 3-15.

     Perry, Mary Elizabeth. Crime and Society in Early Modern Seville. Hanover, NH: UP of New England, 1980.

     _____. Gender and Disorder in Early Modern Seville. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1990.

     _____. «The 'Nefarious Sin' in Early Modern Seville». Journal of Homosexuality 16.1-2 (1988): 67-90.

     Radford, Jill. «Introduction». Femicide: The Politics of Woman Killing. Ed. Jill Radford and Diana E. H. Russell. NY: Twayne, 1992. 3-12.

     Radford, Jill, and Diana E. H. Russell, eds. «Preface». Femicide: The Politics of Woman Killing. NY: Twayne, 1992. xi-xv.

     Sánchez Ortega, María Helena. «Sorcery and Eroticism in Love and Magic». Cultural Encounters: The Impact of the Inquisition in Spain and the New World. Ed. Mary Elizabeth Perry and Anne J. Cruz. Berkeley: U of California P, 1991. 58-92.

     Sigler, Robert. Domestic Violence in Context: An Assessment of Community Attitudes. Lexington, MA: Lexington Books, 1989.

     Stroud, Matthew D. Fatal Union. A Pluralistic Approach to the Wife-Murder Comedias. Lewisburg: Bucknell UP, 1990.

     Vigil, Mariló. La vida de las mujeres en los siglos XVI y XVII. Madrid: Siglo Veintiuno, 1986.

     Walker, Lenore. The Battered Woman. NY: Harper& Row, 1980.

     Williamsen, Amy. «Engendering Interpretation: Irony as Comic Challenge in María de Zayas». Romance Language Annual 3. (1991): 642-48.

     Wilson, Margo, and Martin Daly. «Till Death Do Us Part». Femicide: The Politics of Woman Killing. Ed. Jill Radford and Diana E. H. Russell. NY: Twayne, 1992. 83-98.

     Yegidis, Bonnie. «Speaking the Unspeakable: Family Violence in America in the 1990s». The Aching Hearth. Family Violence in Life and Literature. Ed. Sara Munson Deats and Lagretta Tallent Lenker. NY: Plenum Press, 1990. 23-32.

     Zayas y Sotomayor, María de. Novelas completas. Ed. María Martínez del Portal. Barcelona: Bruguera, 1973. [283]





ArribaAbajo

Book Reviews

Janet Pérez



EDITORIAL POLICY. Hispania publishes reviews of selected books in the following categories: academic books (Peninsular and Latin American), linguistics, pedagogy (textbooks), and new fiction. We do not review journal numbers or publish book notices. Publishers and authors should submit books for possible selection to the Book Review Editor, Dr. Janet Pérez, Assoc. Dean, Graduate School, Texas Tech Univ., Lubbock, TX 79409-1033. Hispania cannot accept unsolicited reviews nor honor requests to review specific books. Members of AATSP who wish to be considered as reviewers should send copies of curricula vitae. Those assigned books for review will receive a stylesheet and a statement of editorial policy.



Peninsular

           Alonso de los Ríos, César. Conversaciones con Miguel Delibes. Barcelona: Ediciones Destino, 1993. 202 pp.

     Conversaciones con Miguel Delibes defrauda al estudioso de la ya abundante producción literaria del gran escritor vallisoletano a la vez que nos recuerda un antiguo adagio español que aconseja que cada cual se ocupe de lo que le corresponde. Es decir, se trata de una obra de periodismo que no añade prácticamente nada al estudio y comprensión de la obra de Delibes en nivel académico

     En Conversaciones con Miguel Delibes, Alonso de los Ríos utiliza por segunda vez el título de un libro suyo publicado en 1971 (Madrid: Editorial Magisterio Español). Las conversaciones entre Delibes y Alonso de los Ríos de 1970 son incluidas en el nuevo tomo junto con otras de 1992. En su nueva versión, Conversaciones está constituido por una nueva y poco esclarecedora introducción de quince páginas, texto de naturaleza muy amplia donde se documentan de pasada los intereses ecológicos de Delibes, su situación familiar actual, lo que Castilla y Valladolid representan para él, la presencia de lo autobiográfico en algunos de sus relatos, etc., todo ya bastante conocido por los estudiosos de la ficción narrativa de Delibes.

     Como ya se indicó, la segunda sección de este libro es una fiel reproducción del contenido de las primeras Conversaciones (ciento treinta y una páginas). Lo que entonces se nos reveló de, por ejemplo, Cinco horas con Mario y Parábola del náufrago, o de la importancia que Delibes le asignaba a James Joyce, sigue siendo, por supuesto, vigente aunque dicha información ahora nos resulte muy conocida.

     El tercer apartado está constituido por las conversaciones de 1992 en treinta y nueve páginas. Se discute cómo la caída del gobierno de Dubcek en Checoslovaquia inspiró a Delibes a redactar su Parábola o en qué consiste su posición ante los problemas ecológicos del mundo. Abundan comentarios anecdóticos sobre el origen de varias de sus novelas, lo que piensa Delibes de ellas y sobre la atención que han recibido a manos de sus lectores. Hay momentos en los cuales verdaderas oportunidades son desperdiciadas, como cuando Delibes afirma que no hay «misterio» en El loco, novela donde aborda «el tema de la supervivencia» (183). Lamentablemente, Alonso de los Ríos no aprovecha la ocasión para discutir con Delibes profundamente una de sus creaciones más sugerentes y complicadas.

     Concluye el volumen con bibliografías sobre Delibes y de Delibes. En la primera, sólo se incluyen textos críticos publicados antes de 1970 y se nos da la misma bibliografía crítica incluida con las Conversaciones de 1971, que pasa por alto todo lo escrito -libros y artículos- desde 1969. Por su parte, la segunda bibliografía, la de las obras de Delibes, si bien resulta más amplia, demuestra hasta cierto punto un desconocimiento de los escritos de nuestro escritor. Ello es evidente cuando son incluidas fichas de Siestas con viento sur y El loco. Es decir, si bien el primero es un libro más amplio, El loco es incluido allí también ya que este relato ha sido publicado dentro de Siestas y por separado. Por tanto, no era necesario asignarle una ficha independiente en la bibliografía.

     En vista de la fertilidad imaginativa de la obra de Delibes y la complejidad que ha caracterizado muchos de los comentarios críticos de sus creaciones, hay que concluir que un autor tan complicado e importante como Miguel Delibes se merece «crítica cultural» más perspicaz e informada.

Luis T. González-del Valle         
University of Colorado at Boulder         




           Caro, Ana. El Conde Partinuplés. Edited by Lola Luna. Kassel: Edition Reichenberger, 1993. 186 pp. [284]
Ruiz de Alarcón, Juan. Quien mal anda en mal acaba. Edited by Ángel Martínez Blasco. Kassel: Edition Reichenberger, 1993. 174 pp.

     The Reichenberger series of critical editions of Spanish Golden Age plays has recently added two new titles, both offering plays that have received little critical attention in the past. Lola Luna's fine edition of El Conde Partinuplés, by Ana Caro, the best known woman playwright of the period, and Ángel Martínez Blasco's carefully prepared study of Quien mal anda en mal acaba, by Juan Ruiz de Alarcón, facilitate research on works that until now have been relatively obscure.

     Luna's well documented volume on El Conde Partinuplés includes an introduction, a bibliography, and the text itself. The first section deals with Ana Caro, analyzing her place among the writers of her time and presenting the information known about her life. There follow a history of the play, and an analysis of its plot and the roles of the characters, including two semiotic schemata. A comparative study of the work and its sources details the influence of the chivalric novel Historia del Conde Partinuplés, que después fue emperador de Constantinopla and of the myth of Cupid and Psyche. This section also compares the play with other Golden Age dramas and situates it in the context of the theater of its day. The beauty of poetic expression and the spectacle created by the use of magic throughout the play in dealing with the «dama invisible», along with excellent character delineation, especially of the gracioso Gaulín, set this play apart from its contemporaries and make it well worth reading.

     In discussing «Acción y representación», Luna assesses the tripartite structure of the comedia in general, positing that the actions of the characters prevail over the unities of time and place. She applies this thesis to the play in question, showing how its action takes place in contemporary Spain, although that of the fable is supposedly situated in a mythic time and place. Furthermore, the course of events takes the hero on a path that alternates between an open and dangerous exterior space and a closed and amorous interior one, once again demonstrating the primacy of action over the unities of time and space. The last sections of the introduction comprise a study of the versification of the text illustrating the relationship between verse form and dramatic material, as well as an explanation of the criteria used in preparing the edition. A bibliography lists the editions of the works attributed to Caro, studies and references relating to her work, and a select general bibliography of the comedia.

     The text itself is well presented, carefully footnoted, and followed by a listing of variants. The format is attractive and easy to read, particularly because the spelling has been modernized. This volume is impressive in the amount of documentation that accompanies both the introductory material and the text. It is gratifying to see that this heretofore unjustly ignored work by an outstanding woman playwright of the Golden Age is receiving the critical attention that it so well deserves.

     Martínez Blasco's edition of Alarcón's Quien mal anda en mal acaba, accompanied by his preliminary study, is an excellent addition to the corpus of scholarly work on Alarcón. In the introduction the editor points out that this play has been universally attributed to Alarcón, in spite of the fact that it did not appear in either of the two Partes of his work. Although it has received a great deal of praise and is considered by many critics to be one of Alarcón's best, this is the first critical edition based on its earliest text, an undated suelta published by Francisco de Leefdael in Seville.

     In addition to biographical material about Alarcón, the introductory matter includes a thorough study entitled «Inquisición y teatro», which treats the Inquisition in the comedia in general and the historical event on which this play is based. The basis for the plot is the trial by the Inquisition in Cuenca of the morisco Román Ramírez, citizen of Deza, who died in 1599 and whose bones were subsequently exhumed and burned in order to comply with the sentence handed down against him by the Inquisition after his death from natural causes. Martínez even includes a facsimile of the Latin text of the sentence from the Inquisition trial. He relates in great detail the genealogy of Román Ramírez, the situation of the moriscos in Deza (located in Castile) and the charges of witchcraft brought against Román. The editor also includes information not found in the comedia regarding Román's intellectual formation and his knowledge of medicine.

     The next section is devoted to a study of the play itself. A carefully elaborated plot summary is followed by an analysis of the versification and a comparison between it and other works of Alarcón, as well as an effort to establish the date of composition. Also included here is a bibliography of this particular play. There is no bibliography of other works of Alarcón nor of scholarly criticism about him. The text of the play, [285] modernized slightly when necessary, is presented in a very legible format, with notes that indicate the variations from the Hartzenbusch edition and the two subsequent editions, both of which were based on the Hartzenbusch version, which was published in Volume XX of the Biblioteca de Autores Españoles.

     These two plays are presented in handsome volumes and provide easy access to texts that previously were difficult to find in scholarly editions. They are excellent contributions to the growing number of well edited Golden Age comedias.

Jean S. Chittenden         

Trinity University         



           Chacel, Rosa. The Maravillas District. Translation D.A. Démers. Introduction Susan Kirkpatrick. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1992. ISBN 0 8032 1449 9 (cloth); 0 8032 6353 8 (alk. paper).

     In her excellent introduction, Susan Kirkpatrick says that Rosa Chacel presents, a la James Joyce, a portrait of artists as young women. In the formation of one of the creative young girls, Chacel combines three representations of Ariadne, Elena's mother, the opera written by Ariadne's father, and a statue of that mythic figure. Thus, for the young adolescent, «the eroticism of mother-daughter love, the shaping power of the artistic idea, and the sexual mystery of her own origin are all profoundly intermingled in the figure of Ariadne» (x). In fact, Chacel believes that all artistic impulse originates in the erotic (xi). Later, Kirkpatrick shows that, while women's activity (e. g., knitting) is interconnective, creating non-rigid structures in Chacel's work, Chacel omits men's activity from the text by the use of ellipsis. Similarly, her own text is a knitting together of narrative voices, of the concrete and the abstract, of the «irreducibly personal and the expansively interpersonal» (xx-xxi).

     Démers has done an outstanding translation, especially considering Chacel's «dense and labyrinthine» style, to use Kirkpatrick's words. My major point of difference with Démers is my interpretation of the tone of the conversations between the young girls. While Démers chooses to include slang in their discussions, I rarely found occasions when such informal language was appropriate. «But Ariadne-wow!» (7) is not equivalent to «pero esta otra, ¡vamos!» The translator prefers expressions such as «she's got» rather than «she has» (71) and «this guy» for «éste» (217). Similarly, «I also got the devil from my mother» is a slang rendering of «mi madre me riñe» (72) in the wrong tense.

     On a few occasions, the translation changes the meaning considerably. For example, Isabel's mother did not admonish her to «do a good job» (2) when she went to visit Elena. The reader infers incorrectly that Isabel expected to work for Elena's grandmother: instead, Isabel was told to behave properly. Perhaps a cultural difference accounts for the rendering of merienda as «lunch» (79). «Tea» would have been more appropriate, as the expedition clearly occurs in the late afternoon. While Chacel's style uses long sentences with multiple parts, Démers often breaks the sentences into two shorter sentences. On at least one occasion (67), this confuses the reader: Is Juan Morano the scribe of the Ministry of Public Education or the person walking to meet that ministry employee? In another example, Isabel uses the metaphor of a revolving door to explain art's overwhelming effect: «hay que echarse a ella, entregarse a tiempo...» Démers expresses this as «You just have to push it and move fast», thus making the action active rather than passive (27). At times grammar errors are included: «And me like an idiot» (6), and «No one but him can know that» (217). The most glaring error of interpretation is that of Manuel's repeated shout «¡Me ha matado!» as «They've killed me!» (216). Manuel blames only his wife (or rather her death) for his own spiritual demise.

     Such errors are rare, however. The translator often adds welcome clarifications, identifying authors alluded to: for example, Quevedo and Maeterlinck. She even manages to retain the same rhyme scheme (ABABCC) in the poem by Morenas de Tejada (240). I agree with Kirkpatrick that Chacel's writing is «labyrinthine, but at the same time open-ended and dynamic» (xxii). Démers' translation captures both the complexity and the energy, while aptly expressing Chacel's ideas.

Eunice D. Myers         
Wichita State University         


           Esquival-Heinemann, Bárbara P. Don Quijote's Sally into the World of Opera. New York: Peter Lang, 1993. 176 pp.

     Every adaptation of a literary text offers both a reading of the text and a dialectics of sorts between the original context and the time and place of the rewriting. Borges makes this point in «Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote», when [286] he argues that even an exact re-creation of Cervantes's novel will bear the inflection of different circumstances, as well as of different writing selves. When the adapter chooses a new medium of expression, the distance from the original and the intervention of a second hand become even more apparent. In this study, Barbara P. Esquival-Heinemann looks at opera libretti based on Don Quixote and written between 1680 and 1976. Her work shows the episodes and the modes that the librettists chose to emphasize, along with the interplay of imitation and invention that marks the creative process. Esquival-Heinemann opens with a brief consideration of opera as genre and then surveys the operatic adaptations of Don Quixote in Italy, Germany and Austria, France, England, and the Hispanic world. Three appendices provide a chronology of the Don Quixote operas, a chart of frequency in the use of specific episodes, and illustrations and pages from selected texts.

     Perhaps the major theme of «Don Quijote in Italy» is the relation of the novel to the development of the opera buffa, which derived in large part from the intermezzo (an interesting fact given Cervantes's cultivation of the entremés). German librettists produce the Singspiel, considered to be a counterpart of the opera buffa. Esquival-Heinemann notes that in the eighteenth century German critics saw Don Quixote as satire, while viewing Don Quixote himself in a somewhat more personal and serious vein. The symbolic view of the protagonist led to the transformation wrought by nineteenth-century Romanticism, as chronicled by Anthony Close and others. Opera composition in Germany reflects the movement toward a tragic vision of Don Quixote, but librettists also find room for comic treatment of the text.

     In contrast to the German libretti, interpretations of Don Quixote in France remain much the same in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, according to Esquival-Heinemann. French compositions during this period, which on occasion combine opera and ballet, tend to focus on the grotesque and the ridiculous qualities of the novel. An exception -significant for its place in the contemporary repertoire- is Massenet's Don Quichotte, which Esquival-Heinemann believes to be based on a poem by Henri Cain and a play by Jacques Le Lorrain (the librettist) rather than on Cervantes's novel. This opera attributes to Don Quixote the noble character that other French versions forsake in favor of humor. In England, as well, librettists generally emphasize the comic aspects of Don Quixote, and, fittingly, the role of Sancho Panza. Esquival sees in the operatic productions of the four centuries a mirror of the stages elaborated by Edwin B. Knowles: surface farce, serious satire, exploration of the spiritual implications of the text, and a balance of comic and serious elements, respectively. As in the case of other European countries, Don Quixote serves to inspire a new form of opera, namely, the ballad opera.

     Ironically, but understandably, Spain has produced few operatic versions of Don Quixote, due most likely to the reverence in which Cervantes's masterpiece is held in the Hispanic world. The premiere of the first and only Spanish opera based on the novel, Teodoro San José's comic opera Don Quijote y Sancho Panza, with libretto by Eduardo Barriobero y Herrán, took place in 1905.

     This particular sally should be of interest to Quixote scholars, notably with regard to generic diversity and to writing as rewriting. Questions of tone and frequency -the most popular episodes are Camacho's wedding, Sancho's governorship, and the stay at the ducal palace- affect not only the domain of opera but reception of the novel in comprehensive terms. One could argue a bit about balance, about missed opportunities to deal with theories of genre, or about the exclusion of the United States (and its own unique form, the musical comedy, which gave us perhaps the most commercially successful of all adaptations of the Quixote). Nonetheless, it is important to recognize the tremendous amount of research that went into this project and the usefulness of the data collected. The commentary is clearly written, well organized, and enjoyable to read. E. C. Riley's contention that Don Quixote as icon often supersedes Don Quixote as literary figure helps to explain the multiple variations on quixotic themes that enrich and expand upon Cervantes's novel.
Edward H. Friedman         
Indiana University         



           Hildner, David J. Poetry and Truth in the Spanish Works of Fray Luis de León. London: Tamesis, 1992. 177 pp.

     Critics have long considered Fray Luis de León's prose a model of harmony and classical constraint, and in many ways it is, according to David J. Hildner's new book, but it is also sensual, imaginative, and sometimes self-contradictory. In this informative, well-written study, [287] Hildner analyzes the most salient characteristics of Leonine writing -among them, the cleric's use of semifigurative language, his philological precision, his admission of multiple meanings, his recourse to logic and the senses. Hildner examines Leonine concepts of truth and fiction, poetic and logical language, and shows that, although Fray Luis believed that doctrine should be transmitted through creative forms and beautiful words, he set limits to the poetic function. Fray Luis distrusted the purely aesthetic, holding that God and the divine were the only proper subjects for imaginative writing.

     A significant part of the study is devoted to De los nombres de Cristo, which, in Hildner's view, illustrates some of the contradictions inherent in Fray Luis' thought. For Fray Luis writing was a moral activity. Heavily influenced by Neo-Platonism, he conceived of works such as Nombres as part of his search for truth. Yet, De los nombres de Cristo does not constitute an authentic probe because there is no real dialogue. Fray Luis maintains a monolithic view; all of the nombres are different ways of saying the same thing. Hildner believes that Fray Luis was afraid of genuine diversity of opinion because he thought it would lead to a loss of unity in the Church. Hildner points out that Fray Luis often sacrifices authenticity to unity in his writing, so that his descriptions of human society -including married life, government, etc.- are totally inaccurate. However, the truth Fray Luis is concerned with is «spiritual essence», rather than objective reality. The descriptive elements in his writing are not mere ornaments, but means by which the passage comes alive, thereby conveying truth to the reader. Often Fray Luis has recourse to multiple semantic and syntactic levels of discourse that seem to defy logical analysis, but for him, divine truth was fused into the «living beauty of expression» of the language.

     Hildner believes that in spite of the apparent remoteness of Fray Luis' subject matter, the sixteenth-century cleric speaks to the modern reader. For one thing, twentieth-century thought has sought to abolish the distinction between poetic and scientific language, recognizing the «poeticity» of science's terms and the possibility that the authentic truth, or Word, is revealed by poetry. Furthermore, the twentieth-century no longer sees language as «neutral», but views speaking and writing as forms of praxis. These notions, Hildner notes, were self-evident to Fray Luis.

     David Hildner makes use of an impressive number of classical, Christian, and Renaissance sources to elucidate Fray Luis' thought. He shows that in terms of his aesthetics and Weltgeist, Fray Luis was both a man of his times and a remarkable individualist. Hildner explodes some of the myths about Fray Luis -often depicted as the austere formalist in comparison with San Juan, the exuberant sensualist- by exploring the dramatic and erotic elements of some of his writing. Poetry and Truth is a well organized, clearly written, solidly researched study that adds immeasurably to our understanding of the Spanish prose of Fray Luis de León.

Barbara Mujica         
Georgetown University         




           Levine, Linda Gold, Ellen Engelson Marson, and Gloria Feiman Waldman, editors. Spanish Women Writers. A Bio-Bibliographical Source Book. Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1993. 596 pp. ISBN 0313268231

     Combining the bio-bibliographical approach of Galerstein and Pérez in their seminal studies, Women Writers of Spain: An Annotated Bio-Bibliographical Guide (1986), and Contemporary Women Writers of Spain (1988), and the theoretical sophistication of Kirkpatrick's Las románticas (1989), Ordóñez's Voices of Their Own (1991), and Nichols's Des/cifrar la diferencia (1992), Spanish Women Writers functions simultaneously on multiple levels. It contains the most complete biobibliographical guide to the fifty women included in the volume, while offering at the same time, a revisioning of canonical authors such as Teresa de Jesús, Rosalía de Castro, Pardo Bazán, Carmen Laforet, and Rosa Chacel, and the first systematic and sustained look at a host of lesser-known writers, both past and present (Teresa de Cartagena, Leonor de la Cueva y Silva, María del Pilar Sinués de Marco, Faustina Sáez de Melgar, Teresa Pàmies, and Ana Diosdado). However, the most notable feature of this source book is its use of feminist criticism to study the authors in question.

     In their concise yet provocative introduction, «View from a Tightrope: Six Centuries of Spanish Women Writers», Levine and Marson offer an overview of peninsular women's writing and a summary of the major theoretical and methodological questions that inform this source book. Spanish Women Writers focuses on the problematic relation between the artist's life and work, which is especially crucial in a consideration [288] of the female author's trajectory given the patriarchal nature of Spanish society; the intimate interplay of gender, politics, social mores, identity and creativity in the formation of the woman writer; and, concomitantly, the twin strategies of subversion and survival, which women writers have employed to «...navigate the uneven waters of patriarchy and provide life jackets for those who ventured into the deceptively tranquil currents only to encounter torrential floods along the way» (xxi).

     Turning our attention to the fifty individual analyses, we see that, compared to the 468 authors studied by Galerstein, and the nearly 100 writers surveyed by Pérez, this source book by Levine, Marson and Waldman appears deceptively limited in scope. However, the criteria for selection of authors are both broad and inclusive: Spanish Women Writers includes poets, dramatists, novelists, short story writers and essayists from all parts of Spain (writers of all minority languages except Basque are represented), and from the beginnings to the present (the earliest entry is the fourteenth century writer, Leonor López de Córdova, author of the first feminine autobiography in the peninsula; and the latest is Paloma Pedrero, one of the most successful young playwrights of the 1980s). Each study is comprised of four sections: biography, major themes, survey of criticism and bibliography, and I would like to concentrate momentarily on the last of these. The bibliographies are thorough, painstaking, and in some cases, dazzling: they include original, subsequent and modern editions of all of the writers' works arranged according to genre; translations from Spanish to other major European languages, as well as translations from the minority languages to Castilian; books, articles and conference papers on the writer herself, specific works or related questions; and other diverse material -memoirs, letters, interviews and films- all of which is fascinating and useful.

     The researchers themselves are also diverse; from established feminist critics, such as Pérez, Nichols, Waldman and Levine, Maryellen Bieder, Phyllis Zatlin, Mirella Servodidio, Susan Kirkpatrick, Elizabeth Starcevic, Shirley Mangini, as well as prominent peninsular scholars, including the late Ruth El Saffar, Estelle Irizarry, Sharon Keefe Ugalde, and John Wilcox, to exciting young critics like Amy Kaminsky, Barbara Dale May and Alda Blanco. Although all of the studies are undertaken from a feminist perspective, the versatility of these fifty specialists ensures a wide variety of approaches -linguistic, stylistic, structuralist, materialist, psychoanalytical, etc.

     At the risk of slighting the many outstanding contributors to Spanish Women Writers, I would like to highlight four analyses, which in my opinion, are ground-breaking: Kathleen March's study of Rosalía de Castro, which takes into account the Galician poet's revolutionary novels, traditionally ignored by the critics; Waldman's detailed consideration of Lidia Falcón, a writer who has consistently fallen through the cracks, due to the controversial nature of her life and works, and her immense output -essays, novels, autobiography, and reportage (Falcón has authored more than 1000 articles in journals in Spain and abroad); Ellen Engelson Marson's critical appraisal of Gloria Fuertes, which examines the poet's esthetics and her linguistic and formal virtuosity, in contrast to the reductive approach to Fuertes employed by most contemporary peninsular critics, with the exception of Margaret Persin; and finally El Saffar's exemplary study of Pardo Bazán, which postulates the need to look anew at the nineteenth century novelist's work with the feminist critical tools honed in the 1980s.

     The volume ends with a selected bibliography, which contains, surprisingly, the most complete listing of studies of peninsular women writers to date, and two appendixes: a chronology of authors by date of birth, and a comprehensive list of their works available in English translation. In conclusion, Spanish Women Writers offers the monolingual reader in English, the teacher and student of peninsular letters, the specialist in women writers, the feminist literary critic, and the general reader an indispensable research guide. Feminist scholars, in particular, are greatly in debt to Levine, Marson and Waldman, and to the contributors to their source book. Spanish Women Writers constitutes a watershed in peninsular studies. Within a short time, feminist literary historians will characterize the state of the held as before or after its publication.

Susana Cavallo         
Loyola University Chicago         


           Marías, Julián. Mapa del mundo personal. Madrid: Alianza Editorial, 1993. 206 pp.

     Over the years, whenever anyone asked me to recommend one work that would be the best introduction to Marías's philosophy, I unhesitatingly responded: Antropología metafísica (1970). Recently I added a proviso: if [289] you wish to see Marías's philosophy of human life «concretized» -since human life exists only in the concrete- read his three-volume autobiography, Una vida presente: memorias (1988-89). Henceforth I will be obliged to respond: you now have a choice between three works, depending on your specific interests -you can begin with his narration of either human life in the abstract, or his own particular life, or the personal dimension of human life. This last work, under review, is situated midway between the abstract and the concrete, grounded in the abstract and itself the ground of the concrete.

     A few words about the title of the study and its method (from its «Prólogo»): Adopting Ortega's fundamental insight that human life is circumstantial, Marías emphasizes that this means to live is to be in the world and to live with others -not only with other humans but also with other physical bodies (my own body plus the bodies of minerals, plants, animals and other humans). Thus, not everything in the world is, strictly speaking, personal. Furthermore, not everything about a human is, strictly speaking, personal. A human is constituted by the physical, the psychic and the personal. It is with the latter that Marías is concerned in this book (as he has been in all his recent studies). He offers us a «map» to enable us better to find our way about this «terrain».

     Marías situates his philosophic position within that general orientation sometimes called «personalism». If the name of this orientation is not familiar, it is because very few philosophers refer to their positions as such. On occasions such thinkers as Jacques Maritain, the neo-Thomist inspired by Bergson, called himself a personalist, but -at least in the United States- only a few philosophers academically connected with Boston University and the University of Southern California consistently applied the designation to themselves. What all personalists have in common is an emphasis on the person as what is distinctively human, and the conviction that the person is the highest form of reality. The method employed by Marías in this book, as in all his works that involve the human, is narration, an application of «razón vital», a description of one's experiences as executed and as «lived through» by the self, a description that follows a plot line and preserves the tensions that constitute human life as a co-living.

     Thirteen chapters form the book, commencing with the context of the study as seen in the first two chapters. The first chapter («La condición personal de la vida humana») is an excellent summary of Antropología metafísica, while the second («Persona masculina y feminina») presents Marías's most direct statement yet that unequal treatment of men and women in regards to economics, legal, and social opportunities constitutes an injustice. This statement prevents a misunderstanding of Marías's contention that, although men and women are «igualmente personas», they are not «personas iguales» (in the sense of being the same). They are related disjunctively, i.e., a human is born either a male or a female and socially becomes either a man or a woman. Together they constitute humanity. (Someday someone who accepts this disjunctive theory must develop it to account for the obvious variation between and within the terms of the disjunction, and thereby join in the discussion within the area of «gender studies» that critiques human sexual polarization as neither metaphysically necessary nor socially just).

     The description of the person Marías presents deepens and clarifies his previous studies of human life and, in turn, further illuminates Ortega's distinction between the interindividual and the social, a distinction that consider his greatest contribution to social philosophy, as presented in El hombre y la gente (1957), his greatest contribution (I think) to philosophy. (For approximately thirty years I have utilized the book in a course on social philosophy/social ethics entitled «Person and Society». Because I found no explicit distinction between the individual and the person in Ortega, I supplemented his treatment with Maritain's distinction, as found in The Person and the Common Good. Taking into consideration Ortega and Maritain's fundamental differences in metaphysics, I was able to draw parallels between their respective critiques of political systems in the twentieth century that have tried to dehumanize by depersonalizing. Marías's study goes a long way in developing what was only implicit in Ortega).

     Themes covered in the study include: the genesis of the person (during childhood); the «discovery» of one's person (through co-living with parents and siblings); the dramatic dimension of personal living; the «borders» of the personal (God -«El gran ausente»- and death); friendships (especially between men and women, women and men); love between persons (with the role of the body); the way one is «installed» in the «personal» world and how we «project» our «trajectories» toward each other; and (finally) the basis of being a person (which is «having to go on living» through choosing and [290] creating one's own biography). Although each chapter builds upon the previous, most could be read as independent essays (and all should elicit discussions if assigned in literature and/or philosophy courses). The chapter (10) that I found most informative is «El amor personal». Marías convincingly argues that what goes by the name of «love» these days has little to do with persons, concentrating instead on the animal or even the vegetative dimensions of human living, and «no en vano la mayoría de los sexólogos son zoólogos (125)». Because of this reduction of the desire between the sexes to sexual desire we are at the lowest level in centuries in understanding love. Implied here is Marías's valuable distinction between the sexuate and sexual conditions. Of special importance is the role of the caress in all forms of love as «the personalization of the body» (or my consciousness that my body is mine, and an «ingredient» in «my life»). Marías's publisher would perform his readers a valuable service if it commissioned an anthology of his thoughts on love, as found in his various works over the years.

Antón Donoso         
University of Detroit Mercy         


           Tanner, Marie. The Last Descendant of Aeneas: the Hapsburgs and the Mythic Image of the Emperor. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1993. 333 pp. ISBN 0300054882.

     Tanner traces the history of the idea of the Roman emperor and its manifestation in imagery. The image, she believes, developed seamlessly from its origins in antiquity through the early Christian period, the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Her study culminates with the Hapsburgs' use of the image in the sixteenth century. The myth was changed and adapted to concur with major historic events and the location of the imperial seat. It originated in antiquity with the vision of Rome's divine destiny; in the early Christian period it synthesized gentile and Jewish divine history and was consolidated by the Hapsburgs in the sixteenth century. Several elements -chronicles, visual imagery, mythical genealogy, among others- helped to form the image.

     Vergil accommodated the Trojan myth to Roman history producing the vision of Rome's divine destiny. During the Byzantine period the myth was christianized by amalgamating Judeo-Christian topoi with their pagan parallels. In Prudentius's Psychomachia Christ is the new Aeneas and Rome the new Jerusalem. In the Middle Ages and the Renaissance epic narrative and mythic genealogy advanced the image. Mythical genealogy, providing a fictive ancestry for the emperor, was the most important element in the formation of the image. Biblical figures had already been interpolated during the early Christian period. The genealogical pretensions of the emperors were advocated in monuments and in pictorial and literary works having biblical, historical and mythological subjects.

     Prophecy, unlike genealogy, focused on the eschatological to designate the Holy Roman emperor as the last descendant of Aeneas. In the sixteenth century, the Spanish monarch had become the last world emperor and Spain the last world monarchy, ideas put forth by the philosopher Tommaso Campanella who took into account Spain's role in the discovery of the new world, the expansion of its domains and the signs of the political and religious union of humankind.

     The concluding chapters of Tanner's book dealing with the Hapsburgs in Spain should be of special interest to hispanists who can apply the material to their own research. Among the topics discussed in the context of Hapsburg rule are the mystical and dynastic significance of the Order of the Golden Fleece, the title to Jerusalem, Columbus's discovery of the Americas, and the monarch's solar identity. In Hapsburg mythology the Escorial is viewed as Solomon's Temple, the heavenly Jerusalem and the fulfillment of Rome's imperial legacy.

     Philip II supported the arts to spread the message of Hapsburg piety which was based on devotion to the Eucharist and the Holy Cross. By casting the light of religion on the unknown half of the globe Philip was seen as Christ-Apollo. Philip identified the Eucharist with the sun to the extent that within Hapsburg realms the Eucharist was displayed in a monstrance having the form of a radiating sun. By identifying himself with Apollo, the sun, and then the sun with the Eucharist, Philip drew to himself as emperor the adulation given the Eucharist.

     Tanner's research is impressive. She consulted important libraries in Italy, England and Spain, among them the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana and the Biblioteca Hertziana in Rome, the Warburg Institute, the British Library, and the Escorial Library. In contrast to previous studies, Tanner concentrates on the mythical bias and the political motivations of the Renaissance epic narratives. In her treatment of mythic genealogy her special contribution to scholarship [291] goes beyond local issues. The book's notes, select bibliography and copious illustrations add to the scholarly value of the text. Tanner invites other scholars «to fill out the lines of inquiry suggested here with knowledge from their special fields». Hispanists, in particular those in Golden Age studies, certainly have much to contribute.

James C. Murray         
Georgia State University         


           Terry, Arthur. Seventeenth-Century Spanish Poetry: The Power of Artifice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993. 300 pp. ISBN 0521444217.

     The blurb on the jacket of Arthur Terry's book on seventeenth-century Spanish poetry proclaims it «the first comprehensive study in English of one of the most important bodies of verse in European literature». To succeed, such a book could only be the result of many years of research, thought, and love of its subject, which is the case here. Integrating modern theoretical concerns and the traditional scholar's broad familiarity with the poets and their works, Terry has accomplished the two goals he set forth in the preface: (1) to provide a text for students and scholars that goes beyond the few poets normally covered in classes on the subject, and (2) to furnish «an accessible and reasonably detailed account» of seventeenth-century Spanish poetry to readers even less familiar with the literature (ix).

     Limiting his topic to the years 1580-1650 (plus Sor Juana), Terry divides the book into nine chapters. The first sets the historical context for the poetry, tracing the Castilian, Italian and classical traditions, and is followed by a discussion of the poetics of the period. He devotes a chapter each to the «major» poets -Góngora, Lope de Vega, Quevedo and Sor Juana. Terry provides good analyses of Góngora's longer works and poetic practice in general; for example, he points out that in the Soledades the readers «are made to follow out its constantly shifting perspectives, actively taking part in the production of meaning, rather than simply assenting to something we already know, and never settling into a final sense of order» (87). In the chapter on Lope, subtitled «Re-writing a life», he focuses on the artistic transformation of that life, taking pains not to overemphasize «the man at the expense of the conscious artist» (95). He explains Quevedo's poetics in terms of a serious rhetorical conservatism: a «suspicion of change, of running counter to what he takes to be the genius of the language» (154). Sor Juana retains her place in the peninsular canon as the last of the period's major figures in Terry's treatment, which draws heavily on Octavio Paz's work. Two chapters are devoted to «minor» poets, divided into those whose major work predates the Soledades and those whose work comes after. The poets and poems discussed here are, for the most part, the same ones found in Terry's 1968 Anthology of Spanish Poetry 1500-1700: Part II, where they appeared with little commentary. Women poets other than Sor Juana (except for brief mention of Santa Teresa) are notably absent in this treatment, which otherwise admirably attempts to bring the discipline up to date. There is also a welcome chapter on epic poetry, highly valued by the poets of the period but relatively neglected now.

     More than readable, the text is interesting, with good illustrations of Terry's analysis and translated quotations. The thorough notes, index and selected bibliography will be appreciated by the serious student. For what it sets out to do, this will be a useful text for years to come.

Ted E. McVay, Jr.         
Texas Tech University          


           Trapero, Maximiano, editor. La décima popular en la tradición hispánica: Actas del Simposio Internacional sobre La Décima. Las Palmas de Gran Canaria: Universidad de Las Palmas de Gran Canaria/Cabildo Insular de Gran Canaria, 1994. 412 pp. ISBN 8481030376.

     This volume contains the proceedings of the «Simposio Internacional sobre La Décima», held in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria in December, 1992, which brought together scholars from Caribbean countries (including the United States) and their Spanish counterparts from the Canary Islands and Andalusia. In connection with the Symposium a musical festival was held in which popular decimista groups performed. The introductory remarks of the Actas promise a forthcoming recording of the musical performances. These events were designed to bring together philologists, musicologists, and performers to promote interchanges not only among researchers from different disciplines but also among investigators and authors/performers of décimas.

     The volume is divided into three principal sections. The first includes inaugural remarks, [292] original décimas composed for the opening of the Symposium, and the keynote address by Samuel Armistead. The second section consists of five plenary addresses by Félix Córdova Iturregui (Puerto Rico), Ivette Jiménez de Báez (Puerto Rico/ Mexico), María Teresa Linares Savio (Cuba), Carmen María Sáenz Coopat (Cuba), and Maximiano Trapero (Las Palmas de Gran Canaria). The third section includes fourteen papers read during the meeting. Since space does not permit detailed analysis of all the papers, the following commentary focuses on the keynote and plenary addresses and some of the major directions in décima studies evidenced in these proceedings.

     In his opening address, Samuel Armistead admits that one of the impediments to a thorough investigation of the décima has been that most specialists of oral poetry have dedicated their research to the romancero. In a brief overview of our present knowledge of Hispanic oral poetry, Armistead notes that Hispanic popular poetry is the product of two legacies -Islamic and Romanic. Lothar Siemens Hernández develops this salient point in his article, «Antecedentes de la forma musical de la décima y observaciones históricas sobre su empleo en Canarias», in which he ties the development of the décima to the history of christianized moriscos and their subsequent migration to the Canaries and, later, the Americas during the tumultuous decades immediately preceding and following their expulsion. Armistead's remarks also point to another topic treated by other speakers at the symposium -the link between the oral poetry of the Canaries and the Americas. He gives a brief, country-by-country overview of orally-composed poetry in the Americas, emphasizing its varied, but also universally enduring legacy. He also includes an extensive bibliography.

     Among the plenary speakers, Córdova Iturregui reports on how present-day troubadours in Puerto Rico view the art of improvisation. Jiménez de Báez compares the parallel development in Mexico of the popular, oral décima and the learned, written glosa and how the music and dance which usually accompany them are dynamic manifestations of mestizaje. Linares Salvo, from a musicologist's perspective, follows a similar vein in her article which studies the relationship between the décima and the tonada and how the different musical structures which accompany décimas in Cuba resulted from a mixture of Spanish and pre-colonial cultures. In speaking about instrumental accompaniment, Sáenz Coopat notes Canarian influence on Cuban instrumentation and indicates the effects of mass communication and electrified music on the punto, one of the traditional Cuban forms for playing and improvising décimas. In his article, Trapero, the symposium's organizer and editor of the Actas, studies the romancero and the décima in the Canary Islands and concludes that the latter is a relatively recent phenomenon in the islands. Collecting décimas in the Canaries, he found that the majority of present-day singers are also the composers of their poems, rather than transmitters of a longstanding, and largely anonymous, popular tradition (as is the case for the romance).

     Judging from the essays included in this volume, the Symposium achieved its goal of studying this mode of traditional poetry from a transcultural perspective. Rather than a history of the décima in terms of Spanish influence and American reception, it views this manifestation of the popular poetic voice as a product of cross-pollination. As the stepping stones to the Americas, the Canaries' unique relationship with the cultures of the Caribbean, first points of contact between the Old and New World, is also manifest in the vitality of the décima as a mode of popular poetic expression in the Canaries (as opposed to most parts of the Iberian peninsular where are other forms are more dominant) and its enduring vigor in the Caribbean.

Connie L. Scarborough

University of Cincinnati



           Willem, Linda M., editor. A Sesquicentennial tribute to Galdós 1843-1993. Newark, DE: Juan de la Cuesta, 1993. 360 pp.

     The twenty-three studies contained in a sesquicentennial tribute to Pérez Galdós, nicely edited by Linda M. Willem, are a useful addition to the ever-growing corpus of Galdosian scholarship. They cover nearly every facet of the field, utilizing diverse critical methologies, with authors representative of various generations of Galdosistas. The general areas covered, in chronological order, are the non-historical novels (eleven essays, the largest group), the Episodios Nacionales (four essays), the short stories (two essays), Galdós's political thought (one essay), plays (two essays), one essay on Galdosian literary criticism, one on his impact in Russia, and a closing essay on intertextual relations between Cervantes and Galdós. As is to be expected in so large a collection of studies, quality and level of interest vary considerably. [293]

     Below is an account of some of the most significant essays. Peter Bly's study of La familia de León Roch (11-26) is a finely reasoned analysis of how landscapes and skyscapes, metaphors for how the protagonists escape from reality, constitute both the structure and theme of the novel. Stephanie Sieburth's study of La desheredada (27-40) examines the novel from a sociological perspective, demonstrating how the working class (through Mariano) and the petty bourgeois class (through Isidora) come to threaten the status quo of the Madrid of the 1860s and 1870s. Following Foucault's concept of «discipline», Sieburth demonstrates how «the poor have been left out, disinherited, by the system» (36). She also argues that Miquis, usually taken by critics to be a benevolent figure, has a dark side: his attempts to cure the spiritual ailment of non-conformity (38). James Whiston's essay on Lo prohibido (41-55) illustrates the importance of the reader's perspective in this novel with a notoriously unreliable narrator.

     Akiko Tsuchiya's study of Fortunata y Jacinta (56-71) again takes up Foucault's theory of «discipline» to analyze the institutions of oppression in Spanish Restoration society. Mauricia, generally viewed in a negative light by critics, is seen here as representative of a female body «that refuses to be 'subjected, used, transformed and improved'» (64). Hazel Gold's essay on Fortunata y Jacinta (72-87) identifies Realism's utilization of the body as a novelistic device for achieving a totalized representational narrative technique (73) and Naturalism's emphasis on the deterministic impact of biology on human life, leading to «an organic diagnosis of social maladies» (74). Along the lines outlined in her excellent book on framing in Galdós's novels, Gold shows the manner in which the novelist reframes the boundaries between physical and mental reality (75). The synecdoche of the dismembered body applies to novelistic characters and to the nation as a whole in the period covered in the novel (80).

     Geoffrey Ribbans's analysis of Fortunata y Jacinta (88-104) is a carefully reasoned study of narrative point of view. He points out that the narrator is reliable in telling the «story» but cannot be trusted completely at the level of «discourse» (95), the resulting ambiguity producing an irony that typifies Galdosian narrative discourse. Harriet S. Turner's study of Fortunata y Jacinta (105-20) provides some convincing definitions of the Realism of this novel. Networks of image and motif surround novelistic elements with a metonymic force, leading to dialectical signifiers (111). Tropes are grounded in physical and chemical processes, nature or the economic phenomena of the times (114).

     Teresa M. Vilarós's essay on Tristana (121-37) perceptively highlights the symbolism of Tristana Reluz (127), the exceptionally white young lady who emerges from darkness and returns to it at the end, a male fantasy of feminine «otherness» and a metaphor for writing (129). Through multiple intertexuality, especially from Dante and a feminine version of the masculine Tristan (134), the protagonist is literally «framed», sentenced by the impossibility of a feminine love (135). Another analysis of the same novel by Chad C. Wright (138-54) focuses on bodily metaphors and the symbolism of dismemberment, malfunctioning, and disarticulation (139). Wright is one of the few critics who notices that at the novel's conclusion Tristana becomes «the very thing she has despised throughout», namely, a domestic wife and «beata»(153), and concludes that «the very contradictoriness, incompletion, and ambiguity... both in form and content, may very well be its message, and not so much its failing» (154).

     Nicholas G. Round's study of Misericordia (155-72) offers some original ideas regarding the relation of this final work of the Contemporary Novels series to both Realism and Spiritualism. Building on Urey's concept of dualism as oxymoron, he explores how Galdós extends the strategies of Realism (160), creating an aesthetic representation of the constraints and emptiness of the beggars' world (160-61). His final conclusion is, however, questionable. He contends that this novel is the last of the author's realistic fictions because after it, «there was no more to be said on the subject» (172), ignoring the fact that Galdós says more within the frame of Realism in the Episodios and in his theatre. Lou Charnon-Deutsch's «The Pygmalion Effect in the Fiction of Pérez Galdós» (173-89) is a revealing study from a feminist perspective of how Galdós in many of his non-historical novels from 1876-86 utilizes this important European myth to demonstrate the masculine failure to «create an other as a complement to one's self» (173). The critic points out correctly the failure of all the Galdosian male characters who try to create or mold a female «other» (187).

     Diane F. Urey's study of Bailén (204-21), like her book on the Episodios, demonstrates convincingly how these novels constitute «a metafictional commentary on the signifying process in multiple senses, that leads in many directions» (212), in Bailén specifically, to the «difference [294] between reality and illusion, history and fiction» (204). She highlights the intertextual dialogue with Don Quijote (206), the linkage between Napoleon and Don Quijote, whose reciprocity demonstrates «the instability of any figure or interpretation in this historical novel» (211), and the production of ambivalent values of honor, heroism, patriotism, obtained «at the price of shame, self-interest, and atrocity» (215).

     Linda M. Willem (249-60) finds anticipations of Postmodern concepts of the fantastic in an unfinished short story of 1892 («¿Dónde está mi cabeza?») and aspects of what she calls «historical fantasy» in the fifth series of the Episodios, in which, by «exposing the artifice of the historical novel» Galdós breaks down the illusion of reality «on which all realistic fiction rests» (256). Eamonn Rodgers (269-82) examines the writer's political thought as expressed in essays and newspapers articles in the three principal periods of his life (270). The constants of his thought were his disappointment with the politics of the Restoration and his rejection of caciquismo (273). A weakness of this approach is that it only considers the political thought expressed in the writer's newspaper articles (281), ignoring the ideas present in his fictional works.

     Lisa P. Condé (283-97) explores how Galdós's concept of women evolves from the dialogue El sacrificio, (once attributed to Pardo Bazán) to his later play La loca de la casa (1893). She points out interestingly how the protagonist Victoria differs fundamentally from the archetype of the «ángel del hogar» as defined by Catherine Jagoe and Bridget Aldaraca (288), using the female power of her maternity against her husband, Cruz (289), a behavior unacceptable to much of the theatrical audience of the play's time but which was considered acceptable and very modern by audiences in a revival in 1959 (296).

     The final essay, Rubén Benítez's «Génesis del cervantismo de Gald