Book Reviews

Reviews

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Few publishers in the world have done more to provide Hispanic scholars with bibliographies than has Grant & Cutler in its Research Bibliographies and Checklists series of which this is volume 47. Prominent scholars in various fields have compiled outstanding critically annotated bibliographies which are extremely comprehensive and useful. This is the eighteenth volume that has dealt with a Hispanic topic. The editors have established high standards for their compilers, who have met them in every way.

Faulhaber's bibliography concerning books and libraries in medieval Spain continues with meeting the high standard of excellence already established. In 1975 Faulhaber announced his intention to compile such a bibliography. He writes «en aquel entonces creí que conocía ya la mayoría de los inventarios impresos; pero a medida que profundizaba en mis investigaciones, me di cuenta de que quedaban muchas fuentes por revisar» (17). Like most bibliographers he discovered that few bibliographies, especially those that demand much travel to countries outside of one's own, are compiled within an expected definite time.

His introduction, pp. 11-18, should be read with care. He notes that his bibliography «es esencialmente un suplemento, en lo que se refiere a bibliotecas medievales, al Handschriftenschátze Spaniens de Beer. Por tanto, omite materias ya señaladas allí, a menos que requieran adiciones o correcciones» (14). The introduction discusses the organization of the volume, the indices as well as the history of the work's development and acknowledgments.

The work is divided into España, Corona de Aragón, Corona de Castilla, Francis and Italia. The two Coronas are subdivided. There are a subject index, a chronological index, a toponymic index, index of individuals who owned the library and an index to modern scholars who have compiled inventories of medieval libraries or written studies on medieval books and libraries.

This bibliography has 666 well-annotated items. The annotations are extremely useful commenting as they do on the types of works found in medieval library catalogs and inventories. The annotations identify the individuals to whom these libraries and books belonged. They vary from one to twenty lines. His abbreviation list of journals and homenaje volumes occupies pages 19-22 and it is very doubtful, despite his modest disclaimer in his introduction, that he has missed material of any importance. Pp. 22-24 are identification symbols for libraries, for Faulhaber quite helpfully indicates one library either in the United States or in Europe that possesses the item.

Data concerning medieval books and libraries in Spain are scattered throughout many sources and this bibliographical guide will be an indispensable starting point for those interested in these subjects. Through placing his vast knowledge of the field, his patience and perseverance in searching out studies on his subject, Faulhaber has put all of us in his debt.

Hensley C. Woodbridge

Southern Illinois University-Carbondale

The Libro del arcipreste, as the Libro de buen amor was best known to medieval audiences and readers, is a text which is not only aware of the possibilities of its own kaleidoscopic verbal ambiguity («Non ha mala palabra si non es a mal tenida», 64b; «De todos instrumentos yo libro só pariente; / bien o mal, qual puntares, tal te dirá ciertamente», 70ab, and passim), but one which has come down to us in three principal differing incarnations: manuscripts S, G, and T. Together the latter raise issues not only of textual fidelity, filiation, chronology, and authorship, but also of the validity of critics' multiple interpretations of the work. In short, along with Celestina, the Libro is one of the two most important yet textually unstable and problematical literary works of the Spanish Middle Ages.

While Manuel Criado de Val's and Eric W. Naylor's edition of the Libro (Madrid: CSIC, 1965; second corrected, expanded edition, 1972) remains the first and best comprehensive effort to negotiate the textual labyrinth of the work through synoptic editing, Anthony Zahareas's and Thomas McCallum's provides a reliable, more readable alternative. Essentially an abridgement and sensible reorganization of the labors of Criado de Val and Naylor; this new synoptic edition permits an easier reading of the Libro as literature without losing sight of the major instabilities of the text. Lacking Criado's and Naylor's possibly distracting paleographical intricacies

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(albeit this reviewer finds the latter important), as well as suppressing transcription of the various fragments of the Libro cited in other medieval witnesses, this edition deliberately eschews interpretive notes, commentary, and recording minor variants in order to offer an unobstructed vision of the Protean text. As a result, it provides a salutary reminder of the risks inherent in the Libro's interpretation.

Zahareas's and McCallum's edition is important, then, because it reminds critics, particularly those dazzled by theory at the expense of philology, that there remain significant unresolved codicological problems which an undermine and vitiate even the most elegant and persuasive interpretations. Though aware that the act of reading, indeed even of synoptically editing the Libro, are in themselves gestures fraught with nuances of interpretation, the editors continue to believe that a degree of empirical objectivity is both possible and necessary in reading and understanding the work. They are sensitive to the fact that medieval texts persist in posing arresting diachronic questions which will continue to command our attention. Zahareas and McCallum, thus, provide a wider, welcome lesson in the inherent interdisciplinary and tentative nature of Medieval Studies.

The mechanics adopted for the presentation of this synoptic text are logical and easy to use. Using S as a base, differences between the three principal manuscript witnesses are coded in the left margin using the abbreviations S, G, and T. Hence, a cuaderna marked SGT 1251 indicates that it appears in all three. SG 70, on the other hand, points to a quatrain recorded in S and G but lacking in T, and so on. Similar devices help distinguish missing and transposed verses, clearly and simultaneously identifying at each step the reading in each of the manuscripts. In keeping with the desire to produce a synchronically readable text, however, only variants affecting the rhyme and the sense of key words and expressions are registered in the Notas de comentario textual at the back. The Guía del lector preceding the text is a useful reference tool de signed to help readers sort out the relationship of the Libro's narrative voice to the myriad literary forms it adopts. The accompanying selected bibliography is well-chosen, well-organized, and up-to date, while the glossary is adequate, though not complete, since it fails to record many puns and well-known ribald second acceptations recognized by medieval audiences (for example recabdado, 868d, and cobros, 591b, not in the sense of logrado and logros, as per the gloss, but as euphemisms for sexual conquests).

In conclusion, while the Libro may be satisfactorily read in this edition, the latter does not commend itself to scholars interested in detailed philological and paleographical aspects of the work. The result is an eminently useful edition that nevertheless falls short of providing a fully comprehensive, synoptic vision of the text.

E. Michael Gerli

Georgetown University

El Conde Lucanor ha recibido últimamente docenas de estudios críticos, como se verá en la extensa bibliografía de más de 300 citas en éste de Biglieri, el cual es sin duda no de los más valiosos por su nítida brillantez en aclarar la función de los ejemplos dentro del marco del texto. Sus ocho capítulos van dedicados a análisis semióticos («es decir, de lo que hace posible el sentido de la fábula» [183]) de los ejemplos 36, 46, 37, 41, 23, 24, 2 y 33 respectivamente. Todos, incluso la aplicación especial de los modelos formales de Susan Suleiman (Authoritarian Fictions) al 24 y de Lucien Dällenbach (Le récit spéculaire) al 2, forman un argumento integral que desdice un ambiente realista-mimético-autobiográfico para El Conde Lucanor en favor de uno arbitrario-composicional-didascálico. Según este punto de vista, la obra es el producto de una mentalidad elitista feudal -caballeresca- en que la sentencia rimada que se encuentra al final de cada ejemplo, aparentemente allí como efecto de una aplicación del relato de Patronio a la vida real, es en verdad el motivo y causa de lo anterior: «La moraleja, ciertamente, está al final del discurso, pero en realidad, y por pertenecer al nivel de sentido y, por lo tanto, al del texto en su totalidad, lo precede y lo condiciona en todos sus aspectos» (43). Por eso, uno tiene que despojarse de las ideas decimonónicas del verosimilismo realista para aceptar una verosimilitud genérica en que la lógica de la narración se basa en una motivación composicional por la cual las acciones no tienen lugar porque algo ocurrió, sino para que el lector entienda el sentido que da Juan Manuel al relato. Además, esta arbitrariedad del relato depende de dos propiedades siempre presentes en la obra manuelina: la falta total de ambigüedad, para asegurar la univocidad del mensaje, y moralización única, para facilitar, una vez establecido su sentido, la universalización de la enseñanza.

Dado esta lógica del discurso didáctico, El Conde Lucanor es una colección de relatos bastante «cerrados», planeados y construidos para persuadir al lector que acepte una visión arbitraria de la sociedad feudal del siglo XIV español. El lector, por su parte, sea contemporáneo o moderno, sabe y acepta la agenda de don Juan Manuel al empezar el libro mismo con su introducción al lector y al leer cada ejemplo con sus redundantes principios y finales. Las consejas hincadas en cada ejemplo vendrán de un sinnúmero de fuentes literarias e histórico-legendarias, pero los consejos son de la

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ética nobiliaria de la Edad Media. En las palabras de Biglieri: «Su misión consistirá en imponer una sola descodificación privilegiando determinadas relaciones de significación y, simultáneamente, excluyendo o "bloqueando", interpretaciones contrarias. En otras palabras, en el marco se estipula el "contrato de lectura" a que el lector deberá someterse» (195).

La prueba más genial de estas aseveraciones es su análisis del ejemplo 33, «De lo que contesçió a los muy buenos falcones garçeros... del infante don Manuel». El alegato tradicional por un texto autobiográfico, o por lo menos representacional de asuntos históricos en que Alfonso XI es el águila y Juan Manuel el halcón, es rechazado sistemáticamente por Biglieri en un impresionante ejercicio de análisis semiótico digno del mayor aprecio, que pena a la consideración correcta del halcón como un símbolo de las virtudes estamentales de los «defensores»: los atributos de constancia, tesón, fortaleza y esfuerzo predicados ya en el libro entero.

En fin, el libro de Biglieri hace más que indicar nuevas sendas que seguir; porque cierra la puerta a toda una serie de estudios histórico-realistas. Es un libro esencial para una apreciación completa de El Conde Lucanor como magnífico artefacto literario y como la obra maestra representante de su clase social nobiliaria y su época medieval.

David H. Darst

Florida State University

Lewis J. Hutton's study is an ambitious attempt to slow the evolving nature of Christianity as seen in works of Spanish literature from the Middle Ages through the twentieth century. The author has evaluated representative works from all periods to show the differing portrayals of the Spanish literary spirit. In particular, he contributes significantly to the readers' understanding and appreciation of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The Christian Essence contains an introduction, five extensive chapters and an epilogue. Chapter 1 treats «Knights, Warrior Priests and Troubadours»; Chapter 2 examines «Renascense Exuberance and Erasmus»; Chapter 3 continues the themes examined in the previous chapter and traces them through the Baroque period. In Chapter 4, we find the impact of the Age of Reason on the religious experience, which Chapter 5 develops to its logical conclusion, «Alienation, Destruction and Christian Symbols». The Epilogue provides the reader with suggestions for further reading for «the Christian person» (493).

The scope of this book is wide and potentially interesting, but one which is too ambitious for a single-volume work. While the author's intentions are worthy, he does not always five up to the expectations suggested by the title. Much of the text plot summary, completely unnecessary in the case of such well known works as the Poema del Cid, La vida es sueño and El burlador de Sevilla. Space which could have been devoted to critical analysis is wasted on a repetition of the obvious. In particular, Hutton fails to examine critically the works of Gonzalo de Berceo and El libro de buen amor which he summarizes at great length. In his evaluation of the Poema del Cid, he tantalizes the reader with the theme of anti-semitism, but fails to follow up with an explanation. A more serious defect lies in two major omissions from the study. No mention is made of El auto de los reyes magos, the oldest surviving religious play in Spanish, nor of Lope de Vega's La corona trágica, a controversial contrarreforma work. Despite Hutton's acknowledgment of the significance of the battle of Lepanto to the Christian Essence, he fails to cite any of the recent studies devoted to the naval encounter.

The book contains a thorough and insightful treatment of the mystics Luis de León and Santa Teresa and the section on Cervantes succeeds in piecing together the lofty ideals in the Quijote and the Novelas ejemplares. The author makes a convincing case of parallels between the latter and the Bible. For many of his ideas, however, Hutton relies too heavily on summaries of previous criticism. Where he does excel is in his digression on the visual arts, which are technically speaking, beyond the scope of his study.

Perhaps the most serious defect of The Christian Essence is its documentation style and too numerous typographical errors. The extensive end notes contain too many superfluous Ibid. citations, which could have been incorporated into the body of the text. A large number of the references are to standard textbooks rather than to critical editions or studies, which present more reliable information There is no bibliography, a technique used by publishers to hold down the costs of publication, but one which is frustrating to scholars attempting to use the work.

The Epilogue does not adequately replace a summary or conclusion. All of the author's extensive investigations do not seem to have a point. It is only after several readings of the lengthy text that the reader an appreciate the author's intents. Hutton's inconsistent use of Spanish names or their English equivalents (e. g., Juan of Austria vs. John II of Castile) adds to the confusion of the work. Moreover, his use of Elizabeth to designate Isabel I does not conform to modern standard usage. The author's best sections are in the modern period. Perhaps had he limited himself to a narrower chronological scope (e. g., 1800 to the present), his efforts would have been more fruitful and his study more coherent.

Michael G. Paulson

Kutztown University

Tomando como punto de partida la falta de prestigio real que tienen los clásicos en España, Francisco Ruiz Ramón explica que estas obras responden a la doble función del teatro: la función celebrativa y la función catártico-conjuradora. Ya que se ha tendido a silenciar esta segunda al insistirse en el carácter exclusivamente conservador del teatro clásico español y en su intención radicalmente didáctico-moral, los directores y su público no han llegado a «leer» el contratexto o antitexto «donde aparece algo mucho más profundo y de radical alcance ideológico» (21). El libro de Ruiz Ramón sirve pues un doble propósito, el de reflexión de cómo debe ser adaptado un texto clásico hoy en día, y el de interpretación de textos a través de personajes, mitos y la doble función del teatro.

Estos tópicos se estudian en una serie de breves ensayos donde, por ejemplo, se examina una adaptación moderna de La hija del aire; se afirma que el protagonista de la comedia de capa y espada no es ni el galán ni su dama sino la pareja «en busca de su mítica unidad original» (44); se habla de mitos históricos, personajes-mito y mitos clásicos, llegando a la conclusión que el grupo titulado mitos bíblicos-cristianos es «el más rico, complejo, original y prometedor» (52). También se agrupan personajes en dos categorías, Autoridad y Libertad; y se analiza la relación entre el rey y el bufón, recalcándose un segundo contraste entre el vestido cómico de este personaje y «la trascendencia del significado de su palabra» (62), lo que se relaciona claramente con las dos funciones de los textos teatrales propuestas anteriormente.

Todas estas formulaciones y estudios breves sirven de prólogo al último capítulo de la primera parte que es en realidad el núcleo de este texto y está dedicado al estudio del Nuevo Mundo en el teatro clásico. Apunta Ruiz Ramón, como ya otros lo han hecho, la pobreza del tema americano en el drama del Siglo de Oro y nos presenta una lista de sólo unas dieciséis obras que abordan directamente este tema. A éstas podríamos añadir El nuevo rey Gallinato de Andrés de Claramonte aunque se sitúa Chile junto a Camboya y los eventos históricos en que se basa la obra pertenecen al mundo oriental -una expedición española que partió de las Filipinas a Camboya. Utilizando los conceptos y categorías anteriores, Ruiz Ramón estudia en detalle varias comedias de tema americano. En el Auto de las Cortes de la Muerte de Michael de Carvajal, la queja de los indios ante el tribunal de la muerte es claro ejemplo de los textos y antitextos de que habla Ruiz Ramón. La escena incluye no sólo una celebración de la conquista del Nuevo Mundo sino que también manifiesta claramente la función catártico-conjuradora, pues San Agustín, San Francisco y Santo Domingo actúan como defensores de los indios quienes se lamentan de las atrocidades de los españoles y se sorprenden de su codicia. La ironía del antitexto se presenta aún más claramente en las palabras de Satanás, Carne y Mundo quienes defienden a los cristianos del Viejo Mundo.

El juego de oposiciones lo estudia Ruiz Ramón con destreza y precisión en las comedias americanas de Lope de Vega. Por ejemplo, en la compleja caracterización de Cristóbal Colón, encontramos la imagen del loco/cuerdo que ya había descrito este crítico al tratar del gracioso como bufón del rey. La visión mística e idealista del descubridor de América se opone en El nuevo mundo descubierto por Cristóbal Colón a la «práctica» o codiciosa actitud de otros conquistadores. Ruiz Ramón demuestra claramente cómo el oro y el sexo obtenido por la violencia se enlazan irónicamente con la catequización de los indios en esta comedia. Añade este crítico que Lope le da más importancia a cómo los indios perciben a los conquistadores que a la visión que los españoles tienen de ellos y nos muestra cómo esta escena clave de El nuevo mundo descubierto por Cristóbal Colón se repite en obras de Tirso y de Calderón. El uso del punto de vista ajeno reaparece también en Arauco domado. Aquí Fresia, esposa de Caopolicán, es realmente un personaje indomado cuya pasión por la libertad subraya el tema central de la obra: «Aunque la victoria de las armas corresponda a don García Hurtado de Mendoza y sus españoles, la tragicomedia está pensada en tanto que teatro como un canto a la libertad del vencido» (112). Ruiz Ramón podría muy bien haber apuntado aquí que esta idealización del vencido tiene una larga historia teatral, desde Los persas de Esquilo a La Numancia de Cervantes. De gran interés son también las páginas dedicadas a la mitología en la trilogía de Tirso y finalmente a la transcodificación de dos universos míticos (el incaico y el cristiano) conciliados en María/la Aurora en la obra de Calderón.

Si aquí concluyera el libro, sería una importante aportación al estudio del teatro del Siglo de Oro. Pero Ruiz Ramón añade una segunda parte donde se establecen paralelos muy certeros entre el conflicto padre-hijo de La vida es sueño y ciertos aspectos claves de dramas románticos tales como Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino y Don Juan Tenorio. Coincidimos con Ruiz Ramón en deplorar la falta de un estudio sobre la recepción romántica de la obra de Calderón en España. Esperamos que continúe sus investigaciones sobre este importante aspecto del teatro romántico. También se encuentran en esta segunda parte de Celebración y catarsis estudios sobre Valle Inclán, Buero Vallejo, Martín Recuerda, Domingo Miras y Luis Riaza, concluyendo el libro con una visión panorámica del teatro español de 1975 a 1985. Estos ensayos finales se apartan de algunos de los temas ya discutidos y crean algo así como un segundo núcleo dentro de este libro. Celebración y catarsis presenta lecturas cuidadosas y reflexiones teóricas que interesarán

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tanto a los estudiosos del teatro clásico como a los del teatro contemporáneo.

Frederick A. de Armas

Pennsylvania State University

Fernández publishes a facsimile edition of the princeps of both plays along with a brief introduction. Vásquez, on the other hand, provides a critical edition of El burlador with introduction and notes.

Fernández is interested in the possible relationship between the two plays; he subscribes to the theory that an early, inextant version of Tan largo gave rise to the published version of the play and also to the composition of El burlador. Because no autograph manuscript remains of either Tan largo or El burlador, Fernández reproduces the single copy of the first extant printed edition of each play, numbering verses and pages for easy reference. In so doing, he has performed a great service to Tirso scholars whether or not they agree with his hypothesis about the plays' origins. Although he had planned to publish this edition as long ago as 1964, the recent publication has benefitted from later studies of the two works.

In the «Presentación» of Fernández's edition, Luis Vásquez notes that the editor, who published the text of Tan largo in Estudios (1967), and El burlador in Alhambra (1982), was the first editor to produce a critical, an notated edition of Tan largo and also the first to attempt to establish the text of El Burlador without depending on Américo Castro's earlier edition (5).

El burlador de Sevilla y convidado de piedra first appeared in Doze comedias nuevas de Lope de Vega y otros autores, Segunda parte (Barcelona: Gerónimo Margarit, 1630). The play, the seventh in the volume, is ascribed to Tirso. The title page also states that Roque de Figueroa staged it. Cruickshank, basing himself on typographic evidence, was able to prove that El burlador has been published in Seville by Manuel de Sande (1627-1629). He also proved that the volume of Doze comedias was actually published in Seville by Simón Faxardo with the falsified title page of «Barcelona, Margarit, año de 1630» (10). In his 1967 edition of Tan largo, Fernández had conjectured that the editor of Doze comedias had reprinted nine sueltas and three comedias taken from an earlier volume. El burlador is one of the three (9). Thus arose the enigmas surrounding the provenience and publication of El burlador (9).

Mystery also surrounds the first appearance of Tan largo which was attributed to Calderón and published in a suelta with no indication of place, publisher or date. Fernández notes that Cruickshank determined that the play was published in Seville around 1635 (11). Fernández goes on to state that Jorge Ferreira de Vasconcellos's Comedia Eufrosina, which appeared in Spanish translation in 1631, inspired the characterization of Don Juan and is responsible for the definition of Don Juan as «el gran garañón de España» in contrast to El Burlador's description of him as «el gran burlador de España» (11).

While Ferrández elucidates the bibliographical mysteries surrounding the two plays and their possible interrelationships, Vásquez, who believes El burlador's composition to be totally independent of Tan largo, prefers to deal exclusively with the former work (17). The detailed «Cronología de Tirso de Molina» which opens the volume is presented in advance of the documented biography Vásquez has planned (9).

Vásquez states that the goals of his edition are to recover the text of the princeps, discuss the questioned passages, and prove that Tan largo does not aid in editing El burlador because its solutions postdate the princeps and modify the latter's meaning, aesthetics and structure (17). Vásquez also disputes Alfredo Rodriguez's attribution of the play to Andrés de Claramonte and attempts to disprove the claim by means of textual analysis. He points out that the doubts about Tirso's authorship stem from the imperfect text and from the fact that Claramonte's posthumous Deste agua no beberé contains one almost identical redondilla as well as overlapping names-Diego Tenorio, Tisbea and Juana Tenorio (19). After enumerating the many suppositions about the two plays, he concludes that he sees no reason to doubt Tirso's authorship of El burlador. The play was published in his name twenty years before his death and in several other abbreviated versions during the seventeenth century with nobody questioning his authorship. El burlador also coincides... «con el modo de poetizar y hacer comedias, con la formación teológica, con la libertad lingüística, con el habla, etc., de Tirso de Molina» (21).

Vásquez is further convinced that although the princeps contains some errors, omits some verses and was probably carelessly edited, it is much less defective than previous editors -Castro, Fernández and Rodriguez- believe (21). He then discusses the play's linguistic forms, poetic language, dramatic structure, characteristics of style and Tirso's use of gods, heroes and Greco-Roman characters.

«La prioridad textual de El burlador» is a key section to Vásquez's theory of El burlador's independent composition. Here he refutes Fernández's theory that Tan largo and El burlador proceed from a common text. He points out that El burlador, written long before it was published, still appeared six to eight years before Tan largo:

Vásquez refutes at great length Alfredo Rodríguez's theory that Tan largo preceded El burlador and that Claramonte wrote both plays.

Having stated previously that El burlador was written long before it was published, Vásquez attempts to establish a date of composition despite the lack of documents concerning either the composition or the representation Believing that the play belongs to Tirso's early stage, he sets the termino a quo at 1613, before Tirso's voyage to Santo Domingo. The termino ad quem he sets at 1617 (79). He concludes his introduction with a list of proverbs appearing in El burlador and other plays by Tirso, an analysis of the play's versification and a bibliography of editions and critical studies. The edition itself is clean, meticulously documented and has much room for marginal notes. Only one speech out of place, Don Juan's answer, «No». to Isabela's question «¿Qué no eres el Duque?» (106) and a few printing errors mar the work.

Scholars must decide for themselves which theory of composition they prefer. In the absence of historical documents that would prove one or the other definitively, Vásquez's meticulous study is very persuasive. Yet despite the need to disprove others' theories, his work would have benefitted from more emphasis on his own very considerable contributions. Fernández, by making available a facsimile edition of the princeps of both plays, has done an outstanding service for Tirso scholars. Both volumes are valuable contributions and welcome additions to Tirso scholarship.

Ann E. Wiltrout

Mississippi State University

It is common practice, under the aegis of deconstruction, to show how marginalia -in the broadest sense- may both subvert and supplement an uncertain center.

A telling example here is Don Quijote's supposed dictum on Ut pictura poesis, brought forward as lead epigraph for chapter 2, «Confronting the Text» (11). Rather than substantiation, his querulous comment on Avellaneda serves to preclude any prospect of promising parallels («el pintor o escritor, que todo es uno, que sacó a luz la historia deste nuevo don Quijote que ha salido; que pintó o escribió lo que saliere...» (II, 71]). The supposed parallelism between the arts («que todo es uno») is vitiated by the fact that it is marginal to the main point, which is that Avellaneda combines the worst features of bad poets and bad painters, for, being a writer, he emulates the inept painter Orbaneja in his casual approach to strategy and structure: «lo que saliere». The parallel concerns the incompetence of a certain sketcher and a certain scribbler, not inter-media comparisons.

The author maintains that «we are crossing the threshold of modern painting» (8) already in 1605 15, since Cervantes's text «anticipates by three centuries the revolution in the arts» (64). The thesis is that Cervantes captures in his portraits of characters and scenes key elements of realism, impressionism, expressionism, and surrealism. Some may be perplexed by this premise and may question the evidence adduced in support of it; they may wish to indulge a choleric quest for analytical rigor and conceptual clarity elsewhere.

On the other hand, readers receptive to allegory should relish the following critique of the episode of the lions (Don Quijote II, 17): «His lance, now 'a phallic symbol'... is cast aside. Rocinante, the flesh, is dismissed... Only the knight, the spirit, remains vigilant, clutching his symbolic sword (the cross) and his bare shield (his identity)... Don Diego futilely flees on his mare, lust; Sancho... spurs his donkey, simplemindedness; the carter... prods his mules, stupidity and ignorance» (47). Others may relish it for other reasons.

The author does attempt to validate her reading of this «emblematic» level (51) by recourse to Cirlot's Diccionario de símbolos. She situates Cide Hamete on the narrative level, Cervantes on the emblematic, and maintains that they send the reader disparate messages. In one instance, «Cide Hamete has told us a medieval tale; Cervantes a modern one» (35), using identical material.

Nevertheless, we learn that Cervantes laughs caustically through his main character, which is to say through Cide Hamete's narration of the incident (42). Elsewhere, «Cervantes's voice addressing the reader may be perceived in Don Quijote's words to Sancho...» (76). These appear to be instances of metalepsis, the intrusion of the emblematic level (Cervantes's sphere) into the diegetic (Cide Hamete's) and the mimetic (Don Quijote's).

This dialectic of emblematic (Cervantes) and diegetic (Cide Hamete) is transposed to the mimetic level in binary pairings of characters. Thus, in chapter 3 Don Quijote is set in privileged opposition to Sansón Carrasco, while in chapter 4 he is similarly opposed to Diego de Miranda. In both instances, a Romantic reading is proffered.

No mention is made of Cide Hamete's illuminated manuscript (1, 9), although it is the Moor who is portrayed textually as a practitioner of both imitative arts, rather than Cervantes. His illustrations

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were apparently suppressed by the translator (or the editor persona), who must have felt in adequate to the task of reproducing them.

The principal problem with this study is that it is distressingly impressionistic. The voluminous theoretical and practical commentary on the inter relations among the arts and the efficacy of intermedia comparisons of this sort has not been utilized. Had it been, the monograph could not have been published in its present form.

I am grateful for the supplementary insights on pp. 3, 6-7, 23, 33, 38-45, 51, 57-58, and 69-70, most of which are marginal to a center that will not hold, in my estimation. The copious notes, several illustrations, and extensive bibliography are likewise welcome and worthwhile.

James A. Parr

University of Southern California

Hispanic Issues is the generic title of a series of books being published by The Prisma Institute of Minneapolis, Minnesota, with assistance from the Program for Cultural Cooperation between Spain's Ministry of Culture and United States universities as well as from other cultural organizations that the editors duly acknowledge in preliminary notes. The editor-in-chief is Nicholas Spadaccini, Professor of Hispanic Studies and Comparative Literature at the University of Minnesota. Several of the contributors are from the same institution, but readers of the three volumes will observe that the authors, the editors, and the members of the Advisory/ Editorial Board come from a wide range of European and North American universities. Among them are mature and distinguished Hispanists as well as young scholars who are commencing their academic careers.

Hispanic Issues defines itself as follows:

A semi-annual publication in English touching on theoretical and methodological issues toward are configuration of Spanish literary history and criticism. The series stresses collaborative research, drawing on a network of scholars from the U. S. and abroad. Sample areas of inquiry include: Literary Criticism and Historiography; Historical Function of Cultural Forms; Popular and Mass Culture; Literature and Institutions; Literature among Discourses (5).

A key word is «reconfiguration». The editors and the authors invite us to examine Hispanic literature with different perspectives. They employ critical approaches that have been developed over the last several decades and make frequent references to exponents of a particular approach. On the part of some authors there is a commitment to Marxist criticism while others choose from among the many systems that have achieved prominence in recent years. What seems to be in «descendancy» is the aestheticism of the New Critics of yesteryear.

The heading of this review shows the three books in the order of publication. Another order would be chronological by the periods of Spanish literature covered: Autobiography... with the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries: Santa Teresa, Antonio Pérez, picaresque novels, Cervantes. The Institutionalization... refers to the eighteenth century, while The Crisis... publishes chapters on the Romantic period, the nineteenth century, and the early twentieth century. This last volume also has chapters on Catalan and Chilean literature. They seem out of context except that methodologically they fit in well enough. A fourth issue is being announced as a special Quincentennial (of the discovery of America) volume entitled: 1492-1992: Re/Discovering Colonial Writing, to be edited by René Jara and Nicholas Spadaccini. The announced contents deal with the Colonial period in Latin (mostly Spanish) America. In an appendix entitled «Documenting the Conquest», the editors propose to reproduce in Spanish or Latin several documents with their English translations. (In Autobiography... they printed a Cervantine document in the same manner).

It is clearly the intent of the editors of these volumes to produce books rather than collections of disparate «articles» that might well appear as appropriately in a journal. The key word here is the designation of chapters. The editors -Spadaccini for all volumes plus a second person for each- have striven to set the contributions in an order that gives a logical flow from one to the other. They have written introductions that succeed in bringing coherence to the whole, and my recommendation to readers is that they begin each volume by reading these introductions. The editors have further provided a single index to each volume, so that the total contents are at the command of the reader. However, each article has its separate notes and bibliography. (A few, by the way, do not follow MLA style.) It might seem that, if the chapters use numbers one to seven or nine or ten, it would make sense to take them in that order. However, I expect that most readers will choose the topics that interest them most and read that chapter first (remember that I urge that the introductions be read beforehand). Readers who do so will not be wrong, for try as they may, multiple authors do not achieve the unity of style of a single author or of co-authors, even when they are as

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resolutely methodological as are these.

There are disparities in the «texture» of language evident in the introduction and chapters of these volumes that militate against the unity of a book. The editors are, as they state in their purpose, determined that Hispanic Issues be written in English. For example, quotations and titles are given in both languages. While many of the contributors are native «speakers» of Spanish, only four of the chapters are acknowledged to be translations. That is, I think, cause for celebration, for it is desirable that American Hispanists write equally well in both English and Spanish. Nevertheless, the reader will observe that these authors speak with many «voices», and some write with a texture that gives real style to their statement.

The question of style is important, because the authors are presenting arguments that not all readers will be prepared to accept. The very word «institutionalization» is the title of the first volume is a barrier. It piles up four suffixes (more if the Latin base is considered) in order to express its concept. Some readers, I suspect, will abandon the book at the cover page in the face of this abstraction. That will be a pity, for this volume and its companion Crisis... set forth in detail some provocative ideas. In brief, «Institutionalization», as used in the first volume, refers to that eighteenth-century process by which enlightened government officials co-opted literature for the purpose of installing their own ideology. Once «institutionalized», literature experienced in the nineteenth century the crisis that is the theme of the second volume.

Yet readers may justly complain that the texture of language in these volumes, in some instances, creates a barrier to clarity. Such is the case with the chapter by Antonio Gómez-Moriana (translated by James V. Romano) in Autobiography... [41-58]. It is entitled straightforwardly «Narration and Argumentation in Autobiographical Discourse», and the author tells us clearly enough: «My thesis, then, proposes nothing other than a synthesis of diachrony and synchrony» (43). But what are we expected to make of the protracted sentence that begins the next paragraph?

If the inclusion of the semantic dimension obliges us to revise our concept of 'literature' (and of art in general) as an autonomous and autotelic entity (common denominator of the schools of diachronic structuralism that coincide in proclaiming their self-referentiality as specific to artistic and literary language), the inclusion of the pragmatic dimension will force us to take into consideration the socio historical implications of literary praxes (including autobiography), at least as an «interdiscursive task» (44).

There are many sentences in these volumes that produce a similar clouded vision before the reader attains the final period. Nevertheless, I want to continent positively on the achievement of these writers who provide the material that the editors have so ably put together. Clearly, colleagues will wish to look into the contributions of established scholars such as the late José Antonio Maravall, Iris Zavala, Margarita Levisi, Anthony Zahareas, and Ruth El Saffar. Their chapters speak for them. Deserving of comment are several of those listed at the end of each volume, in the sections entitled «Contributors», as assistant or associate professors at their institutions.

It is with real pleasure that I observe the sound scholarship of younger colleagues who are bravely endeavoring to bring Hispanic themes into the critical mainstream. At the risk of omitting equally deserving contributors, I want to call attention to chapters that struck me, with my particular interests, as exceptionally good. In Institutionalization... Edward Baker's «In Moratín's Café» presents a novel perspective as he considers the themes of «urban politesse, idleness, and their relation to the social organization of productive labor and public entertainment» (101) in La comedia nueva. Steven Suppan, although he uses «occult» (131) as a verb, indulges in phrases such as «the Enlightenment instrumentalization of reason» (133), and commits barbarisms such as «everyone always already knows their place» (128), nevertheless gives us a refreshing view of Ramón de la Cruz's familiar sainete in «Managing Culture: Manolo and the Majos's Good Taste» (125-68).

In Autobiography... George Mariscal may be given a temporary pardon for using «foreground» (60) as a verb in return for his study, «A Clown at Court: Francesillo de Zúñiga's Crónica burlesca» (59-75), which places an unfamiliar work in the spirit of its times and interprets it in the context of ours. Many readers will enjoy, I think, the lively boldness of Patrick Dust in his presentation of «A Methodological Prolegomenon to a Post Modernist Reading of Santa Teresa's Autobiography» (77-96).

In The Crisis... Gwendolyn Barnes is to be congratulated for a masterful treatment of a difficult subject that we hear little about: «The Power of the Word: Religious Oratory in Nineteenth-Century Spain» (121-47), although one misses at least a passing retrospective reference to Padre Islas Fray Gerundio. In the same volume, Nancy Membrez, who wrote a doctoral dissertation on the teatro por horas, offers a splendid essay on «The Mass Production of Theater in Nineteenth-Century Madrid» (309-56).

In summary, some readers may be put off by the approaches used by the authors of these three volumes, but I think they will ignore at their peril the subject of these essays. There is much sound scholarship here. Although the jargon may offend some (including this reviewer), the presentation, especially by the mature scholars, is on the whole straightforward. Best of all is the treatment of both

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novel topics and familiar subjects from perspectives that provoke a thoughtful response.

John Dowling

The University of Georgia

Cienfuegos, one of the most intriguing figures of the late eighteenth century, has received less attention than other authors. Jose Luis Cano rekindled modern interest in him in a series of valuable articles written in the late 1950s through 1970s (including his excellent 1969 edition of the Poesías), but stiff, no one has published a complete study of the life and works of this fascinating individual. Coughlin's book, a coherent overview of what is known about Cienfuegos, his poetry and drama, takes a step in that direction.

Coughlin breaks no new ground in his presentation of the life (1764-1809) or in the analyses of his verses, plays, and minor writings, but he convincingly argues for this «poet and patriot's» central place in the Spanish Enlightenment. In the biographical section Coughlin discusses Cienfuegos's artistic and political career against the tumultuous background of the Carlos IV-Maria Luisa-Godoy period. Cienfuegos was deeply influenced by Cadalso, Jovellanos, and (especially) Meléndez Valdés in Salamanca, and combined his career (he was named to a bureaucratic position in the Reales Consejos in Madrid in 1789) with his growing interest in literature. The 1798 edition of his Poesías stared debate and revealed a thinker fully in tune with the progressive ideals of the European Enlightenment, whose major themes included mankind, social justice, friendship, sentiment, virtue and the importance of reason as a motivator of man's actions. Coughlin discusses the poetry predominantly from this thematic perspective, reserving some comment for structure, versification and, in an interesting section, language. Several provocative observations might have been developed, such as reference to «a movement away from the universal quality of the descriptive passages to a greater realism through reference to specific locales in Madrid» (32; Sebold has detected similar movement toward realism in Iriarte, Moratín and García de la Huerta), the importance of female friendship in Cienfuegos (38), and the employment of first-person narrators «to express feelings concerning personal experience as well as events in society» (62). There is material here for further study.

Cienfuegos wrote four tragedies -Idomeneo (1792), Zoraida (1798), La condesa de Castilla (1798), Pítaco (published 1816)- and one comedia lacrimosa, Las hermanas generosas. Coughlin presents the theme, plot, characterization, ideology, and artistic achievement/defects of each play in turn, and gives us this good reminder: «To appreciate... Cienfuegos it is important to bear in mind that he wrote... in a society preoccupied with questions of law, justice, duty, government, and virtue...» (83).

The book bears the marks of having been hastily written. Clichés, inconsistencies (Leandro de Moratín [105] vs. Leandro Fernández de Moratín [107]; Nivelle de la Chauseé [103] does not appear in the index), and repetitions mar the otherwise straightforward discussion of Cienfuegos's life and works, and distract from its effectiveness. At times very similar wording is repeated: «The manner in which Cienfuegos describes his friendships is not surprising because the poets of Salamanca considered it to be the principal way to achieve virtue» (38); «It is not surprising to see this friendship, for among the poets of Salamanca it was a most notable passion and the principal means of achieving virtue» (45). Or: «Abuse of his priestly role to strike fear in the hearts of others in his most striking characteristic» (70). Or this sequence (all within four paragraphs): «great emotional intensity», «intense emotions», «outbursts of emotion», «intense states of passion», «intense emotion», «passionate outbursts», and «strong passions» (93-94). Coughlin criticizes Cienfuegos for «overstatement, an unnecessary repetition of words, and a tendency to create an inappropriately rhetorical or overly dramatic tone» (119). Apparently, to paraphrase Mesonero Romanos, «se pega».

David Thatcher Gies

University of Virginia

Students of Galdós will recognize immediately in this last book by Shoemaker the same encyclopedic motivation and style as in his earlier titles La critica literaria de Galdós (1979) and The Novelistic Art of Galdós (1980, 1982). Given the subject of the work and the octogenarian status of the late author, readers may have expected a different kind of book: a personal meditation on the stated theme with the work of Don Benito serving as stimulus. Robert Kirsner's Veinte años de matrimonio en la novela de Galdós (1983) comes to mind here. Such is not the case though.

Shoemaker considers only the twelve Galdosian contemporary novels from Doña Perfecta (1876) to Miau (1888). He does not explain why the Episodios nacionales might not have been also taken into account, but does offer two versions of one reason for selecting the group of novels upon which he settled. These novels «were and still are the least likely among Galdós's entire corpus of contemporary social novels to contain a significant role for God and His religion» (9). And later novels such as Realidad, Ángel Guerra, Nazarín, Halma, Misericordia and the Torquemada tetralogy do not require attention because they «are well known to the casual reader and have been studied in depth

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for their affirmative Godly, Christian content and motifs, and for this reason have not needed to be included in my present search for affirmations where least expected» (9). Shoemaker does not address the probable objection that Doña Perfecta, Gloria and La familia de León Roch might be thought by many to fall into the category of novels well studied for their «affirmative Godly, Christian content and motifs». Nonetheless his chapters on these works average only slightly more than two pages in length and refer to some of the relevant extant bibliography.

Shoemaker purposely limits himself to evoking the verbal references to God and religion and to setting forth the extent to which the Divinity and the Church are active in Eves of given characters. He concludes that while that system of references is one of the «important fundamentals» in the twelve novels studied, «literarily in Galdós's novelistic art, these fundamentals have rarely been the dominant force, except in certain parts and temporarily, in the human situations, but they have often been the contrasting, dramatic counterpoint» (105), i. e., «contrasting literary foils to the usually dominant nature of these novels» (109). La de Bringas is the novel where their contrapuntual contribution is least, Miau where it is greatest.

In the epilogue to his monograph, Shoemaker seems to indicate that it is an incomplete study, or, perhaps better said, the first stage of a complete one (108). Perhaps he felt he did not have time to work out fully exact analyses that would reveal how «God's role and His religion» are integrated into the overall literary syntheses which are the novels. Doubtlessly Shoemaker would want to see someone else take up where he left off.

Stephen Miller

Texas A&M University

What Dobson calls one of his aims, namely to suggest reasons for José Ortega y Gasset's relative decline and the factors that could lead to his «resuscitation» (3), is [as I read the book] the aim of this excellently written and well researched study. Making frequent use of Ortega's private correspondence, the book is an introductory exposition and an extended critique of Ortega's political philosophy that developed from doctoral research at Oxford by Dobson, who at present is in the Department of Politics of the University of Keele.

The work is written with the British public primarily in mind in order to convince it that reading Ortega is worth the time and effort. This is no easy task, given that «even at the height of his [worldwide] fame he was never particularly well known or well-received in Britain» (3) except by a circle of Hispanophiles. The causes of Ortega's low profile are various. Besides the age old «generally held British prejudice toward Spain» (10), which reluctantly admits Spain to be part of the European continent, one can point to two main causes. One is the almost exclusive philosophical emphasis in Britain on the analysis/elucidation of language, an emphasis that excludes most of continental thought from philosophy. The other is the fact that the 1932 English language translation of La rebelión de las masas never met with nearly as large a readership in Britain as in the United States, presumably be cause the British form of liberalism did not favor a «meritocracy». As Dobson perceives the cultural situation, it is changing as to what counts both in philosophy and the contents of liberalism. Through his book he aims, admirably, to encourage an interest in Ortega's political philosophy and in the metaphysics and epistemology of the human condition in which it is grounded.

The case for Ortega is presented in three parts. Part one, consisting of Chapter 1, is devoted to Ortega's political life and the principal influences on him. Included is a contrast between Ortega's public silence and private correspondence during the Civil War, an issue to which Dobson rightly devotes more space given the relatively recent accessibility to Ortega's private papers. It is Dobsons «opinion» that this new material confirms the previous general assumption that Ortega's sympathies were with the Nationalists, even if he grew increasingly disillusioned with the Franco regime.

Part two, consisting of Chapters 2-6, analyzes/elucidates the key concepts of Ortega's political philosophy: (2) «socialism» and «capitalism», (3) «liberalism» and «democracy», (4) «conservatism» and «elitism», (5) «nationalization» [in the sense of national integration but not centralization] and «decentralization», and (6) «fascism». Included in this part is a brief, but important, section on «Ortega and John Stuart Mill», in which it is argued that «... Ortega's concerns in La rebelión de las masas are identical with those of Mill, and provide us [British readers] with another relatively familiar landmark for orientation» (69). Dobson's effort to reconcile Ortega' s early rejection of «isolated individualism» and his espousal of some form of liberalism would have been dearer, as I see it, if he had placed it within the context of Ortega's later distinction, in El hombre y la gente, between «the interindividual» and «the social».

The consideration of these concepts in part two leads directly to their metaphysical basis in part three, whose four chapters (7-10) outline Ortega's discovery of individual human life as radical reality through the utilization of «reason from life's point of view» (as Dobson translated razón vital). This discovery amounts to a radical reform of philosophy, a reform that Dobson is convinced, rightly so, is still worth studying today.

Antón Donoso

University of Detroit

This collection of thirteen essays -five in Spanish, eight in English- by well-known United States-based scholars of the contemporary fiction of Spain has as its stated purpose the offering of critical insights, employing a variety of methodological models, on the Peninsular novel of the Seventies and Eighties. The essays are of several distinct types: panoramic studies focusing upon a group of writers (Concha Alborg's «Cuatro narradoras de la transición» and Germán Gullón's «El novelista como fabulador de la realidad: Mayoral, Merino, Guelbenzu»); overviews of a particular writer's entire novelistic production, or a substantial portion thereof (Catherine G. Bellver's «Division, Duplication and Doubling in the Novels of Ana María Moix», «Una visión esquemática de la novelística de Ramón Hernández» by Luis T. González-del-Valle, Janet Pérez's «Rhetorical Structures and Narrative Techniques in Recent Fiction of José María Guelbenzu», Kessel Schwartz's «Themes, Style and Structure in the Novels of Pedro Antonio Urbina» and «Juan José Millás, fabulador de la extrañeza» by Gonzalo Sobejano); and approaches to a writer through a particular work or, in one case, two. This last category includes: Germán Gullón's «El reencantamiento de la realidad: La orilla oscura, de José María Merino»; «The 'New' Characterization in José María Guelbenzu's El río de la luna», by David K. Herzberger; «Behind the 'Enemy Lines'»: Strategies for Interpreting Las virtudes peligrosas of Ana María Moix, by Linda Gould Levine; Gonzalo Navajas's «Repetition and the Rhetoric of Love in Esther Tusquets's El mismo mar de todos los veranos»; Gemma Roberts's «Amor sexual y frustración existencial en dos novelas de Guelbenzu»; and «Ana María Moix and the 'Generation of 1968'», by C. Christopher Soufas, Jr. The articles range in length from eleven to twenty-five pages.

Luis T. González-del-Valle rightly notes, near the beginning of his chapter on Ramón Hernández, the concentration of critical study of the post-Civil War and post-Franco novel of Spain upon a few major names, to the neglect of numerous other writers of substantial merit. His article -in which he successfully takes on the task of crafting a coherent, unified analysis of thirteen Hernández novels- represents one effort toward redressing this injustice. Since González-del-Valle is also co-editor of this volume, whose chapters taken together represent a clear emphasis upon less-studied writers, it seems reasonable to surmise that one of the book's guiding principles has been the desire to draw the attention of Hispanists and other scholars to the large body of under-studied narrative of Spain's post-war years. In this sense, the Nuevos y novísimos portion of the volume's title suggests a subtle play upon the concept present in José María Castellet's now-classic Nueve novísimos poetas españoles (1970), since several of the writers included in the present volume were publishing well before the two decades focused upon but suffered critical inattention, while the long, cumber some subtitle of the Landeira and González-del Valle book anticipates the disclaimer offered in the preface. «No se ha pretendido... dar una visión equilibrada de la novelística española más reciente» (7). Indeed, the volume's contents represent a clear imbalance. For example, one writer -the excellent novelist José María Guelbenzu- is the sole focus of two studies and the partial focus of another, while many others are omitted entirely. While most critics would agree that Spain's women writers belong to the group of neglected authors, five of the thirteen essays and a portion of a sixth are devoted to their works; three of the five are on one writer, Ana María Moix. The advantage of this sort of concentration is, of course, the opportunity for breadth and depth in the consideration of the two writers in question.

Two focal points for a vision of Spain's recent narrative emerge from the volume's contents: a grappling with the «New Spain», the Spain of political transition, and the marked tendency toward fantasy in the newest Peninsular fiction, while twentieth-century existential anguish remains as a constant theme. In the first of his two companion pieces, Germán Gullón examines the fantastic mode in the work of José María Merino, a member of the interesting and original «Leonese group» of contemporary novelists; the Galician, Marina Mayoral; and the Asturian, Guelbenzu. Writing gracefully and engagingly, Gullón views the work of these writers in the context of the fantastic tradition of Spain's Northwest and elucidates the defamiliarizing function of the fantastic. In the second essay, Gullón studies the mirror-imaging, pluralizing functions of «narrador mago», narratee, and character in the portrayal of multiple reality in the 1986 novel by poet and storyteller Merino.

Pedro Antonio Urbina and Juan José Millás are also studied as writers in the fantastic mode. In his carefully documented essay, Kessel Schwartz links recent, bizarre Urbina works to the confusion of identities and of reality/fantasy evoked by Urbina in his previous writings for very young reading audiences and for the theater. Insisting perhaps too greatly upon the autobiographical nature of a substantial portion of Urbina's work, Schwartz suggests the role of fantasy as an artistic response to the New Spain. Less successful is the attempt to elucidate the complex, shifting author-narrator character relationship in Urbina's fiction. Terminology relevant to these three entities tends toward interchange and, hence, confusion, despite the helpful use at one point of a distinction between «the super author» and «the temporary author».

In his well-written and convincing essay on Juan José Millás, Gonzalo Sobejano focuses upon the nightmare as structuring device of Millás's novels and organizing experience of his characters. Sobejano studies the nightmare motifs in each of three expressions: loneliness, family membership, and group identity. In each case, the individual is overwhelmed by a devastating force, as in nightmares.

Though the narrative of Guelbenzu is also rich in fantasy, Janet Pérez and David Herzberger take on other aspects of the Asturian's work. The Pérez article examines unifying rhetorical devices in Guelbenzu's prose: abundant imagery of travel; variations upon the pathetic fallacy; the use of fight and color, sounds and silences; the parody of literary and cinematic conventions. The completeness and meticulous documentation of this study will make it an invaluable research tool for students of Guelbenzu.

In his persuasive, well-crafted essay on «new» characterization in Guelbenzu's El río de la luna, David Herzberger continues a line of research he has undertaken with reference to the novels of Juan Benet. Observing that «in many respects... Spanish narrative during the past two decades moves in opposition to de-characterization» (84), Herzberger sees the development of strong individual characters, not only as a counterpoint to the collective protagonists of neo-realism, but also «as a new point of departure, in which authors equate the revalidation of character with the essential purposes of their art» (84). Guelbenzu is seen to take a post-modernist approach to characterization, eschewing the restrictions of nineteenth-century literary conventions.

In an insightful essay whose points could be further sharpened by careful pruning, Gemma Roberts applies to Guelbenzu texts the theories of Erich Fromm and Victor Frankl on sexuality in relation to selfhood and society. Studying El río de la luna and El esperado, Roberts sees the protagonists' compulsive sexual activity as an indicator of existential alienation and a reflection of society's consumerization, which tends to separate sex from love.

Also treating love is Gonzalo Navajas in his rigorous, tightly structured, and articulate post-modernist analysis of the first novel by Esther Tusquets, to whom surprising reference is made in the volume's preface as «esta importante pero poco conocida narradora» (10). Love in the novel is seen as an anti-mimetic force of individuation which, however, is subverted by the protagonist's ironically absolutist «theology of negativity» (24) and her return to a trivialized world.

In her look at the fiction of Lourdes Ortiz, Cristina Fernández Cubas, Soledad Puértolas, and Rosa Montero, Concha Alborg discusses the narrative strengths of each and the question of the existence of a «new novel» to match the New Spain. The three quality pieces on another woman writer, Moix, are particularly welcome given the paucity of critical work on this unprolific writer of challenging and remarkably varied texts. C. Christopher Soufas examines her 1968 novel Julia in the context of a possible Generation of 1968, considering the insights of major theoreticians of the literary generation in Spain and concluding that Julia is antithetical to such a generational notion.

Hispanists have come to appreciate the skill with which Catherine G. Bellver brings to the study of Hispanic texts the insights of other disciplines. Her essays on character division and doubling in Moix's fiction adeptly incorporates the fruits of psychological research. Threading her way carefully through existing Moix scholarship, Bellver studies several kinds of doubling, seeing its use as a metaphor for the instability and complexity of human relationships generally. A tendency toward the use of calques from Spanish is mildly distracting.

Finally, Linda Gould Levine applies discourse analysis to the study of the strange and disconcerting stories in Moix's Las virtudes peligrosas. She sees the collection's discourse as characterized by «a complex artifice of absence» (97), a dialectic of dominant and muted voices, and a «hostility and antagonism toward words present in [Moix's] writings since the inception of her career» (100). Textual silences, both forced and otherwise, connote for Levine those of marginated groups within Spanish society today, as well as the «devaluation of discourse» (100) of the Franco years.

Despite a rather high incidence of typographical errors and some unevenness in the essays, this volume is a valuable addition to criticism of very contemporary Peninsular fiction which its critics will undoubtedly find themselves consulting again and again.

Mary S. Vásquez

Michigan State University

Despite the critical and popular success enjoyed by Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, as yet there have been surprisingly few monographic studies of his work and thus Genaro J. Pérez's La novela como burla/juego is especially welcome. Pérez analyzes seven of the Galician author's most innovative novels, published between 1963 and 1987, giving a brief summary of the plot of each before examining the principal themes, motifs, structural and stylistic features. In addition he notes the influence of writers admired by Torrente (Cervantes, Sterne, Chesterton, Arthur Conan Doyle) and points of coincidence with some of his contemporaries (Nabokov, John Fowles).

Don Juan is the first work in which the concept of the novel as juego is evident. Pérez explores

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the theme of burla, as executed by Don Juan and experienced not only by the women enamored of him but also by the narrator and by those naive readers who expect a conventional, closed novel rather than an experimental, open one. This initial chapter is an excellent introduction to two elements, metafictionality and intertextuality, that are of great importance in Torrente's oeuvre. Chapter 2 is devoted to Off-side, the least studied of the novels apart from the early El golpe de estado de Guadalupe Limón. Pérez describes the 1969 book as a novela negra, albeit an atypical one because of its philosophical dimension and because its tough guys are not flat characters. Structurally the novel is reminiscent of La colmena and it depicts life in Madrid some twenty years later, during the 1960s. The portrayal of swindlers, prostitutes, homosexuals, and former prisoners lends itself to implicit criticism of the sociopolitical realities of the Franco dictatorship.

Chapters 3 and 4 deal with the best-known novels, La Saga/fuga de J. B. (1972) and Fragmentos de apocalipsis (1977). Pérez focuses on the intertexts, showing how Torrente has drawn from a variety of sources (including fiction, classical and Arthurian mythology, poetry, popular songs, and literary criticism in La Saga/fuga and has adapted or naturalized the borrowed elements. These intertexts serve a variety of functions, of which the parodic is paramount. The metaliterary aspect is particularly significant in Fragmentos, an intensely self-conscious narrative that is filled with reflections on the process of literary creation and its attendant problems, the genesis of characters, and the development of story lines.

La isla de los jacintos cortados (1980) is more conventional than its immediate predecessors as far as structure is concerned. Torrente, long interested in historical figures and the myths that spring up around them over the course of time, investigates the birth and development of the «myth» that Napoleon existed, when in actuality he was but an invention. This rewriting of events permits an exploration of the relationship between fiction and history, and the reality of both. The parodic, demythifying tendency of so much of Torrente's fiction continues in Quizá nos lleve el viento al infinito (1984), which is a combination science fiction and spy novel. Its characters include androids and a narrator-protagonist who is a cross between Sherlock Homes and James Bond, possessing the analytical skill of the former and the sophistication of the latter, plus the ability to metamorphose into other beings at will. He is a master at the game of cold war politics, all the players of which are the target of the author's satire. Yo no soy yo, evidentemente is a tribute to Fernando Pessoa, famous for his use of pseudonyms to represent different facets of his personality. In Torrente's novel two university professors attem