For locations of the originally Spanish romances of chivalry see Daniel Eisenberg's indispensable bibliography (1979). I have not listed separately each of the many that I mention in passing in this essay. (N. from the A.)

See his defense of identifying of topoi in a text, on similar grounds: «El interés del topos no se halla así en el contenido, sino en su aspecto funcional, que es diverso en cada caso y, por to tanto, nada tópico» (12). He warns as well of the dangers of «positivist» cataloguing tendencies: «la recaída en áridas y dogmáticas actitudes catalogadoras» (18). Also see Michael McGaha's perceptive summary of the current situation in source studies, as opposed to intertextuality (149). Rafael Altamira defended reading chivalric romances on the grounds of better understanding the epoch in which they were popular, but he was speaking mostly of the Breton and Carolingian material. (N. from the A.)

See Daniel Eisenberg's criticism (1975) of Armando Durán's Estructura y técnicas and its limitations which for Eisenberg derive partially from reading only unrepresentative works, including Amadís. A number of modern scholars have read Montalvo's work, of course, but few have read the other romances. (N. from the A.)

Interestingly, Riley, like Murillo, then proceeds to cite examples from other romances which are quite unlike Amadís (38-44). Perhaps the most egregious example of mistaken generalizations about the Spanish romances is Roger Walker's 1964 article. Eduardo Urbina's excellent article on Chrétien de Troyes and Don Quijote might at first glance be construed as recommending against reading the Spanish romances of chivalry, but in reality he simply cautions against what he calls «la miópica consideración de fuentes en los libros de caballerías»; in favor of considering the place of Don Quijote within the larger medieval chivalric tradition (139). Arthur Efron defends the Don Quijote-as-imitator point of view but does not advocate reading the romances, while Howard Mancing indirectly recommends reading them (Ch. 1). (N. from the A.)

Cf. Whitenack (1988). (N. from the A.)

I am presently engaged in a book-length study of the enchantress figure in the Spanish romances of chivalry and elsewhere. (N. from the A.)

There are other omissions: for example, see Avalle-Arce (63) and Parr (1988, p. 86), among many others, for comments on the knight's missing childhood scenes. (N. from the A.)

For more detail on chivalric conversion episodes (through 1524), see Whitenack (1988). (N. from the A.)

In Amadís, the few times Andandona is mentioned, it is invariably in association with the devil, emphasizing that she is the sworn enemy of all Christians: «era muy fea de rostro, que no semejava sino diablo» (II, 980-81); «aquella endiablada giganta» (II, 981); «algún diablo era» (II, 981). The scene in which Amadís's squire Gandalín finally kills her (a knight cannot kill a woman), abounds in references to the devil (II, 1025-27). (N. from the A.)

While many pagans appearing in the romances are «endurecidos» and refuse to convert, it is interesting that the only conversion episode mentioned in Amadís is an unsuccessful one. Perhaps this phenomenon is another indication of the work's probable medieval origins. Cf. Whitenack (1988). We will also remember that in conversions of infidels, as in so many other ways, author Montalvo has Amadís's son Esplandián outdo his father in the sequel. (N. from the A.)