SUBVERSION of TRADITIONAL FRANCOIST HISTORIOGRAPHY in the FICTION of GONZALO TORRENTE BALLESTER by DOUGLAS KEITH ANTHIS, M.A. A

Home , Leonardo Padura Fuentes, Miguel Delibes

SUBVERSION OF TRADITIONAL FRANCOIST HISTORIOGRAPHY IN THE FICTION OF GONZALO TORRENTE BALLESTER

DOUGLAS KEITH ANTHIS, M.A.

A DISSERTATION

SPANISH

Submitted to the Graduate Faculty of Texas Tech University in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

Approved

Janet I. Pérez Chair of Committee

Genaro J. Pérez

António Ladeira

Peggy Gordon Miller Dean of the Graduate School

December, 2011

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I could not have finished the Ph.D. without the support of various people. I would like to thank my professors at Texas A&M University, with whom I studied for the Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees. They are the ones who inspired me to continue my studies of Spanish at Texas Tech University and keep learning more about this field. I have great respect and admiration for all of my professors at Texas A&M and Texas Tech, and I hope that I can one day be as inspirational to the next generation of potential scholars as my professors have been to me. In particular, I am grateful to the members of my dissertation committee, Dr. Genaro J. Pérez and Dr. António Ladeira, for being examples of distinguished teachers and scholars in their fields, and for helping me in my efforts to become one.

Most importantly, I owe a tremendous debt to Dr. Janet Pérez, without whose guidance and support I would never have been able to complete the terminal degree. As both the chair of my dissertation committee and the professor for whom I served as Graduate and Editorial Assistant, Dr. Pérez has provided me with a solid foundation in Twentieth-Century Spanish literary studies, which will prove invaluable as I continue my scholarly research. I cannot thank her enough for the kindness and generosity she has shown me, both professionally and personally. As Isaac Newton once said, “If I have seen further, it is only by standing on the shoulders of giants.” It is my wish that, by continuing in her footsteps, I can repay Dr. Pérez for allowing me to stand on her shoulders and gaze upon the ever-broadening horizons of our field.

Many other people have provided me with support over the years leading up to the completion of this dissertation. Several of my fellow graduate students lent me advice and support, which helped me from becoming discouraged by the daunting task of writing the dissertation. Dr. Marie Moerkbak provided me with impartial feedback during the early stages of my dissertation writing. With her guidance, I was able to organize my thoughts and my materials in a way that helped me to finish what I started. I will always be grateful to her for this.

ii Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Last, but certainly not least, I wish to thank my mother, Thelma, for all of the love and support she has shown me throughout my life. It is because of her that not only was I inspired to follow my dreams, but that I have had the conviction and determination to make those dreams a reality. My Mom has always been there for me in so many ways, in good times and in bad, often acting as a soundboard for me to bounce off my ideas. She has been my muse, and she has never lost faith in my ability to overcome any challenge, no matter how difficult. I owe her this dissertation and much, much more.

iii Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ...... ii

ABSTRACT ...... v

CHAPTER

I. INTRODUCTION...... 1

II. LIFE AND WORKS ...... 11

III. REVIEW OF THE CRITICISM...... 28 La Tabla Redonda...... 76

IV. THEORETICAL FRAME ...... 96

V. ANALYSIS ...... 119 Filomeno, a mi pesar and Los años indecisos...... 119

Crónica del rey pasmado and Doménica ...... 130

Las islas extraordinarias and La muerte del Decano ...... 156

La novela de Pepe Ansúrez and La boda de Chon Recalde...... 180

VI. SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS...... 198

WORKS CITED ...... 206

iv Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

ABSTRACT

Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (1910-1999) dedicated much of his 60-year publishing career to commenting on the tremendous impact the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939) and the post-War era had on all facets of Spanish life. During the almost four decades of the Franco dictatorship, Torrente was unable to make any criticism openly. Instead, he would create fictitious or mythical worlds set in other countries and/or other time periods, thus enabling him to criticize the harsh conditions found in post-War Spain without alerting the Francoist censors. Torrente was remiss to follow the literary trends of the day, preferring rather to experiment with styles long forgotten or those with which Spaniards were unfamiliar. For this and the above reasons, Torrente remained in relative obscurity for the first decades of his publishing career. After 30 years, Torrente published something which gained the attention of critics and public alike. With La saga/ fuga de J.B. (1972) Torrente finally garnered the praise the Galician had deserved all along. Torrente’s final novels have not received much critical attention, partly due to their relative newness, and partly because critics have deemed these novels to be a sign that Torrente’s skills as a novelist were waning. This dissertation seeks to analyze these final novels, shedding light on their significance within Torrente’s vast oeuvre as well as their importance to literature published in Spain during the end of the Twentieth Century.

v Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (1910-1999) is perhaps the most often overlooked of the leading Spanish authors of the Twentieth Century, having gained the notoriety his writings deserved only after he had entered his sixties and had been publishing for some

40 years. Torrente published in almost every literary genre during his life and won most of Spain’s highest literary prizes, yet his work has garnered only limited critical attention in relation to his stature in Spanish literary circles. Even though Torrente was able to live in Spain during most of the Francoist dictatorship following the Spanish Civil War, he certainly did not have an easy life. His fellow writers who went into exile often also missed out on the recognition they deserved, but for different reasons. Writers in exile— such as Francisco Ayala, Ramón Sender, and Max Aub—would write works about the conditions they experienced during the Spanish Civil War and other works reflecting the exile experience, but their literary works went misunderstood by those in the Latin

American countries in which these authors lived and/or saw themselves forced to publish.1 Though some of these writers would later gain a portion of the attention their works deserved, many Spanish writers were relegated to a limbo at times as literary as

geographical. Although Torrente remained largely in Spain, political circumstances impeded him from gaining recognition for his literary work. Torrente’s involvement with the liberal Partido Galleguista before the war meant that he had associated with people the Franco regime considered radical political dissidents. As José Ponte Far notes, “El

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Partido [Galleguista] era separatista—en la acepción que se utilizó en todo el franquismo—y, desde luego, republicano.”2 In addition, the themes Torrente attempted

to explore in his literary works often contradicted the model of a Catholic, conservative,

family-oriented Spain promulgated by the Franco regime. For this reason, and in order to

protect his family, Torrente heeded the advice of a family friend and sought a post in the

Falange.3 Furthermore, recognizing that his dissenting opinions would endanger him and

his family and realizing the need to camouflage them for the censors, he developed a

habit of referring obliquely to the conditions of Twentieth-Century Spain by writing

ostensibly about other places (sometimes fictional) and other times, or else by treating

mythological figures. Due to political problems and a vastly-expanded censorship in

operation during the Franco dictatorship, authors constantly had to rewrite their works so

that they might be published, or face not being published at all. Still worse, many writers

were jailed for writing “unpublishable” works. Moreover, since Torrente became more

or less blacklisted early on during the dictatorship, otherwise friendly critics would avoid

saying anything about the Galician’s literary works, in an effort to avoid guilt by

association for giving praise to an author already considered “problematic” by the

regime.

Nevertheless, Torrente managed to publish a considerable oeuvre during the

almost forty-year span of the Franco dictatorship, and continued to publish literary works

until his death in 1999. His novels number twenty-five and his theatre works six.

Torrente never published poetry, although bits of poetry appear in some of his prose

works. Torrente also published an unknown number of short stories,4 as well as

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 narratives of varied classifications and other miscellaneous works (such as Compostela y

su ángel and Santiago de Rosalía de Castro). Other important criticism appeared in El

Quijote como juego and Los cuadernos de un vate vago, among others. He continued

contributing regularly to various newspapers to supplement his income. Five

compilations of these contributions to newspapers—Cuadernos de la Romana, Nuevos

Cuadernos de la Romana, Cotufas en el golfo, Torre del aire, and Memoria de un

inconformista—were published over the years.

Alicia Giménez (Bartlett) begins her Introduction of Torrente Ballester: El autor y

su obra5 with the following:

Suelen comenzarse las introducciones a las monografías de un autor famoso, haciendo alusión de modo general a los numerosos ensayos, estudios críticos, análisis y semblanzas personales que de él se han hecho. Todas estas muestras de interés sirven para encuadrar su figura elogiosamente en el ámbito artístico y dan pie para iniciar la visión que nos proponemos llevar a cabo. Para Torrente Ballester esta presentación no es válida; creo que si buscamos la fórmula opuesta al tópico, nos acercamos a una realidad tan incomprensible como cierta. Nuestro escritor es famoso, se le concede gran importancia, es catedrático de la Lengua, tiene un puesto indiscutible en las Letras españolas, lectores fieles, admiradores incondicionales, premios, cátedras; pero, a pesar de todo ello, es un literato poco conocido, mal estudiado, someramente analizado. Cuando alguien intenta recopilar datos o consultar una bibliografía sólida sobre su producción artística, se encuentra con una asombrosa penuria: breves capítulos en obras de carácter general donde ni siquiera se hallan reflejadas sus últimas obras, juicios de valor poco matizados que se repiten y eventuales en revistas especializadas que glosan alguna de sus novelas en concreto. Nada en definitiva que pueda considerarse como una auténtica documentación, como un análisis riguroso de su figura literaria. (7)

At first glance Giménez (Bartlett)’s comments might seem not to ring true, considering that she published the book in which they appear just after the publication of La isla de

los jacintos cortados (1980), the final part of Torrente’s so-called “fantastic trilogy” (the

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 most popular and most studied of all of Torrente’s works). Nevertheless, there is veracity to Giménez (Bartlett)’s statements. More than a quarter century later, critics maintain that Torrente has only begun to receive the attention he deserved.

Torrente is particularly difficult to categorize, considering that his literary works seldom adhered to whatever the prevailing literary movement might be at the time of their publication. He did not subordinate his own truly unique writing style and sense of humor just to follow what was in vogue at the time. His at times individualistic and unique way of writing would cause him problems both with the censors and with literary critics, precisely because his writing did not neatly fit in with other works published at the same time. Frieda Blackwell asserts that

Torrente Ballester usually spurned the predominant Spanish literary styles of the 1950s, neorealism and objectivism, for a more imaginative and fantastic form of fiction. His concept of realism, developed from his reading of the works of Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, held that the writer’s task is to create new worlds through the evocative power of words. […Furthermore,] While [Torrente’s] works received scant attention from the censors, who missed [their] ironic tone, they were also largely ignored by the reading public, who favored neorealistic works that purported to offer a ‘camera’s-eye view’ of contemporary Spain. (329, 332)6

Simply stated, Torrente wrote the best literature that he could, often ignored or rejected

because of his aesthetic independence, but finally achieved success after returning from

his quasi-exile in America, where he had begun writing more freely—and simply for the

joy of writing.

In her article appearing in Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester,7 Janet

Pérez observes that some novels Torrente published in the decade following the so-called

“fantastic trilogy” did not garner the same enthusiasm as these three novels. Citing the

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 lack of scholarly attention given to some of the works published by Torrente during the

1980s, she reasons that:

Such unevenness is understandable, perhaps, in the case of those works written long before and thus bearing characteristics of other works published in their day which failed to attract favorable notice earlier in Torrente’s career. This might explain the silence which has greeted the novel La princesa durmiente va a la escuela (1983), written around 1950 and published with few revisions. Much the same would be true in reprintings of works long out-of-print, the early theater and essays. Harder to explain, however, is the indifferent critical reception of Dafne y ensueños (1983) and La rosa de los vientos (1985), whose style is that of the mature Torrente, and which incorporate much of the same whimsy, fantasy, irony and humor which contributed so much to the success of the first four novels cited [La saga/ fuga de J.B. (1972), Fragmentos de Apocalipsis (1977), La isla de los jacintos cortados, and Quizá nos lleve el viento al infinito (1984)]. [. . .] The general lack of critical response is more probably due, therefore, to these forgotten works’ not fitting the peculiar and personal, experimental and vanguardist pattern from which the more successful novels are cut. In fact, these neglected titles fit no recognizable pattern, and so have bewildered rather than enthused the critics. Their differences are more apparent than real, nonetheless, and consist primarily in matters of genre or structure; style, content, themes and preoccupations seldom fail to coincide with—or provide variations upon—constants of Torrente’s narrative art. (79)

Thus, the problem with the aforementioned novels Torrente published during the 1980s is due not to their lack of literary merit, but rather to critics’ perception that they comprise a

stylistic departure from the “fantastic trilogy.” Ironically, the novels referred to by critics

as the “fantastic trilogy” were themselves a stylistic departure from earlier Torrente

works including the Realist-style trilogy, Los gozos y las sombras, which likewise did not

garner the critical attention they deserved. However, following the tremendous success

of the “fantastic trilogy,” Los gozos y las sombras was re-issued to tremendous critical

enthusiasm and adapted to the screen and televised as a miniseries on national television.

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Perhaps the same problem of critical indifference occurs with novels Torrente published during the last decade or so of his life. Like the novels from the 1980s commented on above by Pérez, many of these last works of Torrente went unnoticed or unappreciated by critics. The publication of Filomeno, a mi pesar (1988) represents a

shift in Torrente’s writing style, back towards the realist or neo-realist works popular

during the 1940s and 1950s and away from his more fantastic works published during the

1970s and 1980s. Also a unifying characteristic of all Torrente’s final novels studied

presently is their brevity (with the exception of Filomeno). None of the novels Torrente

published during the final decade of his life, from Crónica del rey pasmado (1989)

onward, contain more than 230 pages, and several of these are limited to roughly 150

pages. Also, the print in these novels tends to be larger, with wider margins, leaving less

verbiage per page. These factors, coupled with less complex storylines, have led critics

to dismiss these works as evincing a decline in the quality of the Galician’s literary work.

However, Torrente stated that “Tal vez se debe a que, cuando me pongo a escribir, tengo

miedo de no poder terminar, tengo miedo de morirme antes” (82).8 While not all of the

novels in the aforementioned group—those novels published during the final decade of

Torrente’s life—treat the same subject, the majority tend to focus on the decades of

Torrente’s life. Some focus on the immediate post-war era (for example, Las islas

extraordinarias [1991], La muerte del Decano [1992], La boda de Chon Recalde [1995]), whereas others provide broad brush strokes of earlier decades of Torrente’s life (i.e.,

Filomeno, Los años indecisos [1997]). One novel, Crónica del rey pasmado, focuses on

the Seventeenth Century, whereas La novela de Pepe Ansúrez (1994) seems to take place

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 either near the end of the dictatorship or during the transition to Democracy. Though the novels as a group lack temporal unity, they nevertheless possess thematic cohesion which somewhat distinguishes them from novels of the previous two decades (1970s and

1980s). Though Torrente’s posthumous and truncated novel, Doménica (1999),

comprises a stylistic departure from these aforementioned novels from the end of

Torrente’s life, this final stylistic shift should by no means lessen the importance of the

posthumous novel to those who wish to study Torrente’s literary works more thoroughly.

The present study analyzes the seven novels published by Gonzalo Torrente

Ballester (1910-1999) during roughly the final decade of his life—Filomeno, a mi pesar,

Crónica del rey pasmado, Las islas extraordinarias, La muerte del Decano, La novela de

Pepe Ansúrez, La boda de Chon Recalde, and Los años indecisos—as well as the posthumous novel Doménica. Its main purpose is to help bring more critical attention to

these novels, and to encourage further study of them as independent works and as

revealing parts of Torrente’s varied body of literary work. This study will likewise serve

not only as an extension of earlier critical analyses of the Galician writer but also as a

means of shedding light on various works which have not benefitted from sufficient

critical reflection heretofore, either because of their relatively recent publication, or

because the more widespread critical praise certain earlier works received caused critics

to focus on them rather than on those works of his final years. Given Torrente’s

extensive work as historian and literary critic, the analysis of the works in question will

emphasize the very important role which history plays in Torrente’s novels; indeed,

treatment of history becomes a leitmotif in the Galician author’s literature. This extends

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 to treatment of historiography, or the making and/or writing of history. It also includes the demythification of historical figures (which Torrente referred to as “destripar el mito,” a tactic he employed particularly for oblique depictions of important figures in contemporary Spanish history, and including Franco and leaders of Falange). Finally, the present analysis will approach Torrente’s use of (ironic and often humorous) literary comments on the blending of fiction as history and history as fiction.

There will be a brief chapter on Torrente’s life and works, including the prizes the

Galician author won during his life and examining Torrente’s political differences with the Franco regime (and why this often made it difficult for him to publish during the

Franco dictatorship). Next comes a chapter reviewing the criticism to date on Torrente and his works. Though relatively little which deals specifically with Torrente’s last novels exists, criticism of earlier novels and themes/ preoccupations which spanned

Torrente’s life will provide a critical foundation for the present study. After the review of the criticism, a theoretical orientation to the study at hand will follow. Torrente’s almost constant references to Spain beg use of New Historical criticism, which discusses how some critics consider History a genre of literature, and how, likewise, some works of literature can be considered historical texts in their own right (as indeed was done with many works of Benito Pérez Galdós, for example). Following the theoretical frame, the analysis chapters will divide the novels into groups of two novels per chapter. This will facilitate a dialogue between texts which would not occur if each were discussed separately. Likewise, the analysis will gain more focus than if all the novels were compared at once. Most importantly, as stated above, the present study seeks to add a

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 new dimension to literary studies of Torrente, by focusing on his last novels but analyzing themes which can be found in all periods of the Galician’s works.

1 Torrente once commented on the manner in which his generation of writers had to obscure their literature in order to get it past the censors under Franco, compared to the openness enjoyed by subsequent literary generations: A nosotros, los maduros, la Ley de Prensa e Imprenta poco viene a añadirnos. El que no ha aprendido todavía a decir la verdad, es porque no la lleva dentro. A quienes, en cambio, beneficiará, es los escritores jóvenes. Tendrán a mano libros que nosotros leíamos de occultis o adquiríamos de contrabando, y se ejercitarán en la expresión directa. Sus libros saldrán a la luz sin mutilaciones graves y, más libres para la exposición de ideas, abandonarán el recurso fácil de la escatología, que nos estaba inundando (“La Ley de Prensa,” in Memoria de un inconformista, Madrid: Alianza, 1997, 418).

2 José A. Ponte Far, “Galicia en los cuadernos de trabajo de Torrente Ballester,” in La creación literaria de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, ed. Ángel Abuín et al. (Vigo, Pontevedra: Tambre, 1997) 177.

3 Pío Moa says this of Torrente’s decision to join Falange: “Al igual que de tantos otros, se diría de Torrente que ingresó en la Falange para salvar la vida.” See Pío Moa, Años de hierro: España en la posguerra, 1939-1945 (Madrid: La Esfera de los Libros, 2007), 120. Moa includes Torrente (as well as Dionisio Ridruejo) in a group of intellectuals which helped fill the gap left by those who either fled Spain or were imprisoned and/ or assassinated during the Spanish Civil War, referring to these as “no todos falangistas, o sólo pasajeramente” (76-77).

4 Several of Torrente’s novelettes and short stories appear in Ifigenia y otros cuentos (Barcelona: Destino, 1987). Others, published in short-lived periodicals of the early postwar years, slipped into oblivion. Torrente himself had no complete record of where they appeared, and sometimes had no copies.

5 Barcelona: Barcanova, 1981.

6 Frieda Blackwell, “Gonzalo Torrente Ballester,” in Twentieth-Century Spanish Fiction Writers, ed. Marta E. Altisent and Cristina Martínez-Carazo, Dictionary of Literary Biography Ser. 322 (Detroit: Gale, 2006) 328-36.

7 Janet Pérez and Stephen Miller, eds., Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (Boulder, CO: Society of Spanish and Spanish-American Studies, 1988).

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

8 See José Miranda Ogando, “Entrevista: ‘Todos los dictadores eran bajitos,’” Cambio 16 1197 (31 Oct 1994): 80-83. Cited in Stephen Miller, “El último estilo creativo de Torrente Ballester: la narración esquemática (1989-1999),” La Tabla Redonda 5 (2007): iii.

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

CHAPTER II

LIFE AND WORKS1

Gonzalo Torrente Ballester was born in the Serantes parish of Ferrol, Galicia, on

13 June 1910. The young Torrente’s family changed residences (Cartagena, Estepona,

Oviedo, Vigo, Madrid, Valencia, Ferrol again, Santiago) quite frequently during the

1920s and 1930s, first because his father was a Naval officer (for which reason is family

lived in numerous port cities, moving frequently), then attending Universities in Santiago

de Compostela, Oviedo, and Madrid. While in Madrid, Torrente also participated in

tertulias of Ramón María del Valle-Inclán and attended lectures by José Ortega y Gasset,

the intellectual leader of the day. His stay in Madrid, and in Valencia shortly thereafter,

proved to be important in his theoretical formation, as there he was exposed to new ideas

through the contemporary literature he read and the literary and artistic people he met

while in those cities. After his stay in Valencia, Torrente returned to his native Galicia.

First he lived in Bueu with his family; during this time he would meet Josefina Malvido, who represented Bueu’s intelligentsia. The two married in 1932. Torrente moved to

Ferrol to teach Latin and History in 1933, as well as undertaking coursework toward a

degree in Philosophy and Letters at the University of Santiago de Compostela. Torrente

also began participating in the Galleguista movement during this year (a movement

which promoted Galician independence), even serving as Secretario Local in 1935. In

the interim, Torrente would celebrate the birth of his first two children, a daughter in

1934 and a son in 1935. The following year, he was appointed Profesor Auxiliar de

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Historia at the University of Santiago de Compostela, a position he obtained through oposiciones (public examinations) in 1936. That Summer, Torrente left for Paris to begin investigations for a doctoral dissertation on Valle-Inclán on a grant from the University of Santiago. His stay in France was cut short abruptly by the outbreak of the Spanish

Civil War in 1936. Torrente returned to Spain in October 1936, and upon arrival, he followed advice given to him by his elders and joined the Falange, hoping thereby to protect his family. The Spanish government-controlled university system would later reject (prohibit) Torrente’s topic of study, as Valle-Inclán—a Republican sympathizer— was considered persona non grata by the Franco regime (which forbade all study of

Valle and other prominent writers favoring the Republic). Torrente refused to change his dissertation topic, and therefore never completed the doctoral degree.

Torrente quickly became active in publishing circles after his return to Spain at the beginning of the Spanish Civil War. He attended the Congreso Nacional del Servicio de Prensa y Propaganda in Salamanca, where he met Pedro Laín Entralgo. A member of

Falange since early on, Laín was notable as both a historian and an intellectual; he later became a member of the Real Academia de Historia and the Real Academia de la

Lengua, as well as winning the Premio Príncipe de Asturias. Torrente moved to

Pamplona, becoming part of the Grupo Jerarquía, working with people like Laín and

Eugenio d’Ors. He then moved to Burgos to become part of the Grupo de Burgos (or

Grupo Escorial), which included intellectuals affiliated with Falange such as Luis Rosales

and Luis Felipe Vivanco and which was led by Dionisio Ridruejo.2 While there,

Torrente collaborated with Spanish newspapers Arriba España and Sur, as well as

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 publishing his first essay, “Razón y Ser de la Dramática Futura.” During the following year, 1938, Torrente would meet Dionisio Ridruejo, a writer who would have a great impact on the young aspiring Galician author. Ridruejo was among the founding members of Falange, and supported its tenets long before Franco changed the course of that organization during the decade following the end of the Spanish Civil War. Torrente also admired Ridruejo for his writing, and dedicated his first novel, Javier Mariño (1943),

to him. During this same year, Torrente also published his first literary work, the theatrical piece El viaje del joven Tobías. In addition, Torrente’s second daughter was

born in 1938. In 1939, Torrente’s fourth child, a son, was born. This year Torrente once again served as Profesor Auxiliar de Historia at the University of Santiago. He also won a government-sponsored competition for best auto sacramental for his second theatre work, El casamiento engañoso. Before the close of the decade (and the end of the

Spanish Civil War), Torrente published the essays “Las ideas políticas modernas: el

liberalismo” and “Antecedentes históricos de la subversión nacional.”

The 1940s began well for Torrente. In 1940 he won a Cátedra de Lengua y

Literatura at the Instituto de Ávila, then successfully petitioned to have his position transferred to Santiago de Compostela. During the following year, Torrente published the theatrical piece Lope de Aguirre. In 1942, Torrente yet again faced the possibility of

leaving his home province of Galicia, this time with an assignment in Mahón. He again

petitioned for a transfer, which allowed him to return to Ferrol. In Ferrol, Torrente

published Siete ensayos y una farsa (El pavoroso caso del señor Cualquiera), as well as

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 another theatrical work, República Barataria, followed by Selección y Prólogo a la

Antología de José Antonio Primo de Rivera.

In 1943 Torrente published Selección y prólogo a la Antología de Sor María de

Agreda. This year marks a more important event: the publication of Torrente’s first

novel, Javier Mariño. By the time Torrente published Javier Mariño, the stricter post-war

Francoist censorship was already in full swing (as opposed to a more lenient censorship,

operating in Burgos during the war), first prohibiting Javier Mariño in its entirety. Then

the third and final part of Torrente’s first novel was eliminated to make the novel fit better with the tenets of the newly-formed Francoist government (termed by contemporary observers “el nacional catolicismo”). In a foreword to the revised 1985 version of Javier Mariño, Torrente remarks:

La redacción de esta novela, escrita durante un invierno y un verano consecutivos, coincidió en su terminación con uno de los momentos más graves y decisivos de la Historia de España de nuestro tiempo: septiembre- octubre de 1942. Escrita pensando en una censura de talante liberal, hubo de hacer frente a un cambio de situación que los escritores españoles de aquel tiempo recordamos con un escalofrío. Un superviviente del anterior equipo, a quien se la entregué privadamente, me aconsejó varios cambios nada superficiales, que casi me obligaron a rehacer el texto en muchas de sus más importantes páginas. La novela fue publicada algo más de un año después, cuando las circunstancias se habían estabilizado: diciembre de 1943. Veinte días pasados de su aparición, el diez de enero de 1944, los ejemplares existentes en las librerías fueron retirados, y la editorial recibió orden de almacenarla. Mi carrera de novelista comenzaba con un tropezón importante. (7)

This would not be the last time one of Torrente’s novels was published, only to be pulled from the shelves shortly after its initial publication. The most notable example of this is

La princesa durmiente va a la escuela (1983),3 which appeared in an absolutely minimal first edition when originally published in the early 1950s, and was then given the same

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 treatment that Javier Mariño had received a decade before. Neither novel had sufficient

time to garner attention for Torrente as a novelist before being pulled from the market

and banned. Once the censors banned anything, criticism of it became impossible, often

extending to other works by the same author. For Torrente, both Javier Mariño and La

princesa durmiente remained essentially unknown until republished in 1983 (La princesa

durmiente) and 1985 (Javier Mariño), both well after Franco’s death in 1975 and the

establishment of the newly democratic, post-Franco constitutional monarchy.

Despite the troubles encountered with the publication of his first novel, Torrente

continued with more narrative in 1944, publishing the short stories “Gerineldo”4 and

“Cómo se fue Miguela.”5 In 1946, he published his most important theatrical piece, El

retorno de Ulises, as well as his second novel, El golpe de estado de Guadalupe Limón.

In Guadalupe Limón Torrente managed to avoid some of the major problems he had

encountered with Javier Mariño, which still failed to gain significant critical attention.

The year 1947 brought a change of scenery for the Galician: he was appointed Profesor

de Historia General at the Escuela de Guerra Naval in Madrid. Upon arriving at Madrid,

Torrente began publishing theatre critique in Arriba. The following year, Torrente would also begin doing cinema criticism in addition to theatre. All of these jobs were controlled by the government. In addition to his activities as critic of theatre and cinema, he attended conferencias at the Instituto de Humanidades, where he heard José Ortega y

Gasset speak. Ortega was to have a profound influence on Torrente’s thought and writing. At the end of the 1940s, Torrente collaborated occasionally with Radio Nacional de España, commenting on theatre and theatrical works. Before the close of the decade,

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Torrente also published his first serious volume of literary criticism, Literatura Española

Contemporánea, 1898-1936 (1949),6 as well as the novelette, Ifigenia (1950).

Torrente continued to find publishing venues during the 1950s, beginning with the

one-act theatre piece, Atardecer en Longwood, in 1950. Torrente also continued his work

as theatre critic through Radio Nacional de España, as well as work on his next novel, La

princesa durmiente va a la escuela. As mentioned before, Torrente encountered several setbacks in finalizing La princesa and attempting to secure a publisher for it. He

managed the smallest possible publishing run of the novel—perhaps because he had to

pay for it himself—only to have all copies of the novel removed from bookstore shelves

within weeks of publication, as was the case for Javier Mariño. After Torrente’s bad

publication experience with La princesa, Torrente shifted his focus more from writing to

criticism. He published one additional novelette, Farruquiño (1954), then devoted himself to studies of literary criticism. First, Torrente published Panorama de la literatura

española contemporánea (1956), a revised and expanded version of Literatura española

contemporánea, 1898-1936 from almost a decade before. Panorama de la literatura

española not only incorporated new works published by authors featured in Torrente’s

earlier work of literary criticism, but also added newer authors who had come to his

attention during the 1950s. In 1957 Torrente published another major contribution to

Twentieth-Century Spanish literary history, Teatro Español Contemporáneo. Now with

three weighty tomes of literary criticism to his name, Torrente became known as an

important literary critic. Between these scholarly books and his frequent critical pieces in

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 the periodical press, he was perhaps the best-known critic of his day—especially outside of Spain.

Also in 1957 came El señor llega. El señor llega would form the first part of the

trilogy, Los gozos y las sombras.7 In contrast to the later, much better-known “fantastic

trilogy,” Los gozos y las sombras is more reminiscent of Galdós, written in a Realist

manner. It serves as a historical reconstruction of some twenty years before, preceding

the Spanish Civil War in a Galician fishing village. Torrente would postpone further

work on the trilogy following the death of his wife, Josefina Malvido, and his father,

Gonzalo Torrente Piñón, the next month. However, upon winning the Premio Fundación

March in 1959 for El señor llega, Torrente resumed work on the second and third

installments of Los gozos y las sombras.

The 1960s began well for Torrente, but soon things would change for the

Galician. In 1960, he married Fernanda Sánchez-Guisande and travelled to France and

Germany. The two celebrated the birth of the first of the seven children they would have together, a daughter, the following year.8 Also in 1960, Torrente published the second volume of Los gozos y las sombras, Donde da la vuelta el aire. The trilogy’s final

installment, La Pascua triste, would appear two years later. However, completion of the

trilogy was to be overshadowed when Torrente, along with some 200 others, signed a

manifesto in opposition to the various levels of “unofficial” censorship in effect in Spain

at the time. All who participated in the signing of the document, as well as public protests which culminated in it, met swift retribution from the Franco government. Some of the participants were imprisoned, whereas others were fined. Torrente, however, lost

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 all of his government jobs, including his teaching job at the Escuela de Guerra Naval and his posts at newspapers and radio. He was also forbidden to publish literature and literary criticism under his own name for some time, forcing him to make a living through translation work which was signed by his son. A notable exception to this rule was his novel, Don Juan (1963), accepted for publication before Torrente had received his

punishment. Furthermore, critics were not allowed to discuss any of Torrente’s literary

works, including La Pascua triste. Thus, not only that work, but Los gozos y las sombras

as a complete trilogy, faded into obscurity.

Torrente gained employment once more in 1964, this time as a teacher at the

Instituto Femenino Valle Inclán in Pontevedra. During this period he also contributed to

the newspaper El Faro de Vigo (these contributions would later be published as Memoria

de un inconformista, published in 1997). In 1966 Torrente received an offer to teach at

the State University of New York at Albany (University of Albany) as Distinguished

Visiting Professor. There Torrente would find an audience appreciative of his literary

works as well as his vast knowledge of Spanish literature of his day. This environment

helped him begin work on what many would later consider his crowning achievement.

Torrente spent over a year studying new trends in literary criticism and thought in

North America, while adapting to life in Albany and enjoying the freedoms not available

to him in Franco-controlled Spain. In 1969 he published Off-side, a lengthy satirical

return to realism which, though it never drew much positive critical or public attention,

nevertheless signals an important shift in his writing. The novel follows Los gozos y las

sombras in its surfeit of realism, though it also contains a bit more humor than the trilogy.

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

According to Torrente, “La vida de una ciudad puede usarse literariamente sin incurrir en el costumbrismo. En Off-side, además, se anuncia mi nuevo estilo, en lo que tuvo de

humorístico y hasta de satírico” (69). With the imminent death of his mother, Torrente

returned to Spain. For some time he divided his time between teaching at the Instituto de

Orcasitas in Madrid and teaching in Albany.

In 1972 Torrente published La saga/ fuga de J.B., which was to become one of his

most famous novels. With La saga/ fuga Torrente finally received long-deserved

attention, both from critics and the reading public. The novel became an instant best-

seller, and received both the Premio de la Crítica (awarded by literary critics for merit

and not by publishers as a sales inducement, thus considered one of the most prestigious

of literary prizes in Spain) and the Premio Ciudad de Barcelona. La saga/ fuga marked

the first time Torrente received widespread acclaim for one of his literary works, thus

marking a turning point in his literary career. Shortly after the publication of La saga/

fuga, Torrente decided to remain in Spain, no longer to divide his time on two continents

by teaching in Albany during part of the year. He obtained employment at the Instituto

de A Guía in Vigo, and fixed his residence in La Romana. In subsequent years, Torrente

would contribute to the important Madrid daily, Informaciones. When Torrente later

compiled his contributions to this periodical for publication, La Romana would provide

the titles for the compilations: Cuadernos de La Romana (1975) and Nuevos Cuadernos

de La Romana (1976). Torrente also published another important, lengthy essay: El

Quijote como juego (1975). This work would indulge his interest in Cervantes and

techniques in Cervantes’s literature, which now might be considered postmodern, as well

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 as offering insight into the direction Torrente’s own writing had taken beginning with La

saga/ fuga. Also at this time, Torrente moved to Salamanca. There he would teach

Spanish to foreign students through the Instituto Torres de Villarroel and in conjunction

with American universities.

In 1975 Torrente was elected to the Real Academia Española de la Lengua, one of

the most important types of recognition available to a Spanish author. The overwhelming

success of La saga/ fuga undoubtedly contributed to this decision, as it was Torrente’s

most popular, best-selling publication of a work of narrative. Torrente would have to

delay his discurso de ingreso, however, due to a heart attack he suffered in December

1976. Torrente was able to deliver his discurso, “Acerca del novelista y su arte” (to

which fellow Galician Camilo José Cela responded) allowing him to become an official

member of the Real Academia. Shortly after this, Torrente published Fragmentos de

Apocalipsis (1977). Fragmentos received the same positive reaction from the public and

the critics as had La saga/ fuga, winning Torrente another Premio de la Crítica and

marking the first time any author had won that prestigious literary prize for two

successive novels. However, schemata representing a half-dozen aborted novels would

be published in 1979 as Las sombras recobradas when Torrente, nearing seventy,

despaired of finishing them as the full-length narratives he had originally intended.

In 1980 Torrente retired from teaching, after receiving an “Homenaje de la ciudad

de Salamanca.” His ailing health and his recent success in literature convinced him to

use writing as a primary source of income (not an easy thing to do during much of the

Franco era, much less for someone like Torrente who had so many children to support).

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

During this year Torrente published La isla de los jacintos cortados, a work for which he

would win the Premio Nacional de Narrativa the following year. Critics would quickly

group La isla with La saga/ fuga and Fragmentos to become what they referred to as

Torrente’s “fantastic trilogy.” These three novels remain some of the most widely read and analyzed of Torrente’s works. Torrente never thought of combining La saga/ fuga,

Fragmentos, and La isla as a trilogy. He explains:

No sé por qué, les ha dado a algunos en llamar a esta novela [La isla de los jacintos cortados], con las dos anteriores [La saga/ fuga de J.B., Fragmentos de Apocalipsis], la “trilogía fantástica.” No lo es más que Quizá nos lleve el viento al infinito, o que La Rosa de los vientos. Yo la relaciono, por la forma, con Don Juan; por la materia, con Fragmentos..., sin que tenga que ver demasiado con la una ni con la otra. Quien conozca la novela, se explicará las razones por las que he elegido el fragmento que se ofrece.9

Unlike Los gozos y las sombras, which Torrente had conceived as a trilogy, a literary

whole sharing a single plot and common characters, the “fantastic trilogy” lacks

commonalities of plot, setting, characters, chronology, etc.

In 1981 Torrente published “Currículum en cierto modo”, as well as “Iñaqui mi

primo y Dios,” in Triunfo. He would also receive an “Homenaje de Galicia” in Santiago

de Compostela. In 1982 Torrente was awarded the Premio Príncipe de Asturias de las

Letras, along with Miguel Delibes. The Fundación Príncipe de Asturias noted that the

authors’ “capacidad de invención y de exposición se ha manifestado en un dominio

magistral de nuestra lengua que garantiza su pervivencia en la historia de la Literatura

española.”10 The same year, Torrente published Ensayos críticos as well as Los

cuadernos de un vate vago. He also edited and re-published Teatro I and Teatro II, bringing together in two tomes all of his theatrical works, many of which had not seen

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 new editions since their initial publication. Torrente included a lengthy prologue to his collected theatre works, as well as his “Diario de trabajo” (1942-1947). Finally, Torrente oversaw the production of a miniseries based on Los gozos y las sombras. The miniseries

would air in Spain and Latin America and would become extremely popular in Spain,

further heightening public recognition of Torrente and his literature. Following the airing of the ten-episode miniseries, a new edition of Los gozos y las sombras was published.

This time it found significantly greater success than it had done when originally

published.

Torrente published the complete version of La princesa durmiente va a la escuela in 1983, close to 30 years after his failed attempts at doing so under the Franco regime.

During this year he also published Dafne y ensueños, a semi-autobiographical novel in

which appear references to the Galicia of Torrente’s youth. Torrente later referred to

Dafne as “Sin duda, uno de mis mejores libros: uno de los menos conocidos, por lo tanto.”11 Also in 1983, Torrente was named Hijo predilecto by his hometown, Ferrol.

He would receive similar recognition from his adopted city of Salamanca the following

year. In addition to this recognition, Torrente published Quizá nos lleve el viento al

infinito (1984). He also saw the publication of Compostela y su ángel and El Quijote

como juego y otros trabajos críticos. In addition to the 1975 essay which gives the latter

work its name, Torrente included six of the essays from his Siete ensayos y una farsa in

El Quijote como juego y otros trabajos críticos, as well as articles he published in

newspapers during the 1940s and 1950s. Torrente published the novel La rosa de los

vientos (1985) the following year.

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

The honors and prizes culminated in 1985, the year in which Torrente became the first Spaniard to receive the Cervantes Prize—sometimes called the Nobel Prize of

Spanish-speaking countries—in recognition of his life-long contributions to Spanish literature.12 In 1986 Torrente published another compilation of contributions he had made to the “Sábado cultural” section of the Madrid daily ABC from 1981 to 1986, with

the title Cotufas en el golfo (1986). During this year Torrente’s theatre work, El retorno

de Ulises, was staged in Salamanca under the title “Oh Penélope.” The following year

Torrente published Yo no soy yo, evidentemente (1987). He also received Doctor

Honoris Causa from the Universidad de Salamanca. In 1988 Torrente was awarded

Doctor Honoris Causa by other universities, including those at Santiago de Compostela and Bourgogne. The Republic of France also bestowed the Chevalier d’Honneur des

Arts et des Lettres upon him this year. Also this year, Torrente published Filomeno, a mi

pesar, for which he won the Premio Planeta. After Filomeno, Torrente would publish the

rest of his works (all novels) through Planeta. The year 1989 saw the publication of a

novel drawing upon Spain’s past, Crónica del rey pasmado. Also to appear this year

were Lo mejor de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester—a collection of excerpts from Torrente’s

works of literature and some essays, including an introduction to each excerpt by the

author—and Santiago de Rosalía de Castro. Finally, Torrente would undergo an

operation on his cataracts, which sought to help improve his deteriorating eyesight to

some extent.

Torrente’s output diminished significantly during the final decade of his life, the

1990s, although he continued to receive recognition for his life-long contributions to

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 literature. In 1990 Torrente received the “Medalla de Oro al mérito cultural” from the city of Santiago de Compostela, as well as the “Libro de oro 1990” from the Federación de libreros de España. During this year, Torrente published a theatrical work, Una gloria

nacional, which he had originally written in 1947. In 1991 Torrente’s work appeared in

two formats. First, his novel Las islas extraordinarias was published. Second, his son

Gonzalo Torrente Malvido, along with Joan Potau, collaborated to adapt Crónica del rey

pasmado to cinema as El rey pasmado. Imanol Uribe would direct Torrente Malvido and

Potau’s screenplay.

Torrente was again awarded Doctor Honoris Causa in 1992, this time from the

University of Havana. During this year he published the novel, La muerte del Decano, and a compilation of articles Torrente had contributed to the literary supplement,

Informaciones de las Artes y las Letras, between 1975 and 1979, Torre del aire. As explained at the beginning of the 1000-page tome, “Con la presente edición se completa el corpus periodístico del autor de La saga/ fuga de J.B.”13 The year 1993 saw good and

bad developments occur for Torrente: he was awarded the “Premio Unión Latina de

escritores,” as well as being the subject of the International Symposium, “La creación

literaria de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester” (whose proceedings would later be published

under the same title), which took place in Vigo. That same year, Torrente went to the

hospital in Santiago de Compostela for pneumonia. With this recent health scare behind

him, Torrente returned to writing. In 1994 he published La novela de Pepe Ansúrez.

Like Crónica del rey pasmado, Las islas extraordinarias, and La muerte del Decano, Pepe

Ansúrez is fairly short compared with earlier Torrente novels (and especially works like

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 the three novels of Los gozos y las sombras, Don Juan, and the three novels of the so-

called “fantastic trilogy”). Pepe Ansúrez won the Premio Azorín the year of its

publication.

Following Pepe Ansúrez, Torrente would publish two more novels during his life:

La boda de Chon Recalde (1995) and Los años indecisos (1997). Also in 1997, César

Antonio de Molina would edit essays Torrente published in Faro de Vigo from 1964 to

1967 as Memoria de un inconformista. Torrente received the Premio Castilla y León de

las Letras in 1996. During this year, the journal Abril would dedicate a monographic

issue to Torrente and his works. In 1997 he was awarded the Premio Rosalía de Castro

by the Pen Club in Galicia, as well as being named “hijo adoptivo” by the city of

Pontevedra. In 1998 Torrente was named “Cavaleiro da Ordem de Santiago da Espada,”

the highest accolade awarded in Portugal for an author’s literary production. Also this

year, Torrente went to the hospital in Vigo, again suffering from pneumonia. He was

able to return to his home in Salamanca, where he died on 27 January 1999. He was

buried in the cemetery of his hometown, Ferrol. Shortly after Torrente’s death, the novel

Doménica (1999) was published posthumously, as was his Atardecer en Longwood adapted by Joaquín Hinojosa and premiered as the theatrical piece, Atardecer en Santa

Elena.

Scholarship focusing on Torrente’s vast literary oeuvre has intensified during the

years following his death. In 2003, the first publication of La Tabla Redonda was

published. La Tabla Redonda is the only scholarly journal devoted completely to the life

and works of the Galician. In 2010, the Primer Centenario Gonzalo Torrente Ballester

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 was celebrated with conferences in Spain and abroad and various publications, including a Número extraordinario of La Tabla Redonda and a special two-volume publication.

1 This chapter is based on bio-bibliographical information found in the following: Janet Pérez, Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (Boston: Twayne, 1984); Alicia Giménez (Bartlett), Torrente Ballester: El autor y su obra (Barcelona: Barcanova, 1981); Carmen Becerra, La historia en la ficción: La narrativa de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (Madrid: Ediciones del Orto, 2005); Frieda Blackwell, “Gonzalo Torrente Ballester,” in Twentieth- Century Spanish Fiction Writers, ed. Marta E. Altisent and Cristina Martínez-Carazo, Dictionary of Literary Biography Ser. 322 (Detroit: Gale, 2006) 328-36; and Anthropos número extraordinario “Gonzalo Torrente Ballester: Premio Cervantes 1985” (1986).

2 See Carmen Becerra, La historia en la ficción (9); Alicia Giménez (Bartlett), Torrente Ballester: El autor y su obra (20); as well as Alicia Giménez Bartlett (“Cronología de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester,” pp. 29-30 in the special edition of Anthropos dedicated to Torrente upon his winning the Cervantes Prize in 1985). Ridruejo is cited as the main influence on Torrente, and it is possible the two met through Laín, already an acquaintance of Ridruejo at the time.

3 Torrente wrote and published La princesa durmiente in 1950-51, although the novel met the same unfortunate fate as that of Javier Mariño, being withdrawn from bookstores within weeks of its publication. Torrente published it again after Franco’s dictatorship had ended and Spain was firmly Democratic. The author once remarked of La princesa, “La escribí cuando ser optimista era un pecado, y yo no intentaba pecar ni aun con la imaginación” (Lo mejor de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester. [Barcelona: Seix Barral, 1989] 27).

4 Originally published in 1944, and included in Ifigenia y otros cuentos (Barcelona: Destino, 1987).

5 Originally published in 1944, and included in Ifigenia y otros cuentos.

6 Torrente would later expand this text in 1956 to include more contemporary authors.

7 Three vols. Madrid: Arión, 1957-1962. Vol. I: El señor llega (1957); Vol. II: Donde da la vuelta el aire (1960); Vol. III: La Pascua triste (1962).

8 Torrente and Fernanda Sánchez-Guisande had six more children during the first decade of their marriage: a daughter in 1962, a son in 1963, a son in 1964, a son in 1966, a son in 1967, and a son in 1969.

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

9 Lo mejor de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (Barcelona: Seix Barral, 1989) 93.

10 “Miguel Delibes Setién y Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, Premio Príncipe de Asturias 1982,” Fundación Príncipe de Asturias. Web. 25 Mar 2011. .

11 Lo mejor de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester 111.

12 The Nobel Prize is awarded by a single entity, the Swedish Academy, and often for a small portion of a writer’s work (e.g., when Camilo José Cela received the Nobel, the citation mentioned only La familia de Pascual Duarte (1942) and La colmena (1951)—although Cela listed over 100 titles in his bibliography. Thus, the Nobel committee honored only 2% of Cela’s work—and early works, from his first decade. By contrast, the Cervantes Prize is awarded by majority vote/ consensus of the 22 Academies of the Spanish language, representing all countries in which Spanish is the official language and including the United States. In addition, the Cervantes Prize is based on the totality of the author’s work, making it a considerably more meaningful award.

13 Citation from front inside cover of Torre del aire.

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

CHAPTER III

REVIEW OF THE CRITICISM

Surprisingly little analysis has been published on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester’s literary works, and most of what does exist tends to focus on earlier, best-selling works not included in the present study. Many critics consider Torrente to have reached his apex as both critic and author during the late 1960s and 1970s, especially in the so-called

“fantastic trilogy,” comprised of La saga/fuga de J.B. (1972), Fragmentos de Apocalipsis

(1977), and La isla de los jacintos cortados (1980). These three novels, while not

considered a trilogy by Torrente himself, nor possessing any thematic ties which might

connect them to each other, were christened a trilogy by critics. The author has

commented that “No sé porqué, les ha dado a algunos en llamar a esta novela [La isla de

los jacintos cortados], con las dos anteriores [La saga/fuga de J.B. and Fragmentos de

Apocalipsis], la ‘trilogía fantástica.’ No lo es más que Quizá nos lleve el viento al

infinito, o que La Rosa de los vientos” (93).1 The present study analyzes novels written

from 1988 to 1997, representing the last decade of Torrente’s life. It is during this time—

and especially during the 1990s—that Torrente’s novels become more distilled, synoptic,

considerably shorter, and are sometimes considered less intellectually stimulating than

his major successes (and longer, denser, more fully thought-out novels) including La

saga/fuga de J.B., Don Juan (1963), or Off-side (1969), among others. The author

realized that he might not have sufficient time to elaborate fully various ideas he wished to develop, considering that he was already in his 70s and 80s and had been hospitalized

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 in serious condition. Thus, it seemed more important to Torrente to write novels which, while shorter, still conveyed certain points he wished to make before he became unable to write or publish any longer.

Major U.S. contributors to scholarship on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester include, but are not limited to, Janet Pérez, Stephen Miller, Genaro Pérez, Angel Loureiro, Frieda

Blackwell, José Colmeiro, and Gonzalo Navajas. In Spain, perhaps the most important contributor to Torrente scholarship today is Carmen Becerra, who not only knew the author well and maintained contact with him during the final decades of his life, but who has also worked with the Fundación Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (with all of its manuscripts, etc.). Becerra is also Editor of La Tabla Redonda,2 the only journal in the

world dedicated exclusively to studies of various facets of Torrente’s literary and critical

work, and the leading authority on the profound effect these works have had on literature

and culture in Spain and the Spanish-speaking world. In addition to Becerra’s vitally

important contributions to scholarly analysis of Torrente’s work, there is also a group of

professors with Becerra at universities in Galicia (Vigo, Santiago de Compostela, and A

Coruña) who dedicate much of their publishing energies to advancing studies of Galician

writers, notably Torrente. Becerra forms part of this research group dedicated to studies

of Torrente’s life and works; the group also includes José Antonio Ponte Far, Ángel

Basanta, Antonio J. Gil González, José Antonio Pérez Bowie, and José María Paz Gago.

Notable Spanish professors Darío Villanueva and Luis Iglesias Feijoo have also

contributed substantially to Torrente studies, having maintained involvement with La

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Tabla Redonda since its inception (aside from having published various scholarly and

periodical articles on Torrente over the last decades).

In order to get a better idea of Torrente’s evolution as a writer, one must consider

his vast, decades-long literary career. This necessitates a look at Torrente’s first literary

efforts, mostly theatre, followed by his beginnings in prose and some of his more

important works of short fiction (including short stories like “Gerineldo” and novellas

like “Ifigenia”) as well as Torrente’s first foray into the novel, Javier Mariño. Through

dialogue with critical works published by prominent Torrente scholars, one gains a

deeper understanding of how the author progressed as a writer, and clearer appreciation

of how he developed and maintained a solid literary career over the span of almost six

decades. The main focus of the present study will be the novels published during the

final decade of Torrente’s life, between 1988 and 1997: Filomeno, a mi pesar (1988),

Crónica del rey pasmado (1989), Las islas extraordinarias (1991), La muerte del Decano

(1992), La novela de Pepe Ansúrez (1994), La boda de Chon Recalde (1995), and Los

años indecisos (1997). Following discussion of the relatively scant criticism on these

later novels, a glimpse at Torrente’s posthumous novel, Doménica (1999), will be in

order. Doménica marks a departure from the rest of the novels Torrente published from

Filomeno, a mi pesar to Los años indecisos in that it does not appear to discuss any of the

historical themes so important to the rest of Torrente’s final novels. As Doménica was unfinished at the time of Torrente’s death, it is tempting but probably futile to speculate as to how he would have completed the novel. The nature of the novel itself suggests that

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 it would have been something different from the kind of literature Torrente typically published.

Following is a brief review conducted on Torrente’s literary works, with particular emphasis on criticism published during the 1990s and 2000s, both because these critical works are temporally more proximate and, much more importantly, the works to be analyzed in the present study all date from the late 1980s and the 1990s.

Much serious critical analysis on Torrente’s literature dates from the early 1980s to the present, having followed Torrente’s election to the Real Academia de la Lengua in 1975, the publication of his novel, La isla de los jacintos cortados (the final part of the

“fantastic trilogy”), and his winning the Cervantes Prize in 1985. This should come as no surprise, considering the relative lack of exposure Torrente encountered as a result of less-than-ideal conditions for publishing in Spain during the Franco years.3 For these

reasons, the following section of this study will follow the most salient criticism

conducted on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester from the early 1980s to the present, treating

books and scholarly articles in chronological order.

Alicia Giménez (Bartlett) published two critical studies on Torrente during the

early 1980s. These studies, an expansion upon Giménez’s doctoral thesis at the

University of Barcelona, would be among the first to consider Torrente as a major literary figure in contemporary Spain. The first study, Torrente Ballester: El hombre y su obra,4 includes a chronology of the author up to the date of publication of the study, as well as insightful criticism on the Galician’s publications up to that point. Therefore, this critic includes literary works from Javier Mariño to Fragmentos de Apocalipsis and Las

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 sombras recobradas, as well as a mention of criticism and contributions to periodicals.

Giménez benefits from insights provided to her through interviews with the author

himself, but claims that Torrente Ballester should be considered more of an intellectual

“tip of the iceberg” than an exhaustive study. She urges those interested in Torrente’s

work to take up their pens and contribute to scholarship as well:

Torrente necesita ser estudiado, analizado, controvertido incluso; su novelística, su labor de crítico y periodista debe ser tomada de una vez en cuenta por la crítica, no como fenómeno aislado, sino como componente de un panorama cultural que sin él no sólo estaría incompleto, sino que no llegaría a entenderse. (8)

Torrente Ballester concludes with a discussion of Torrente’s entrance into the Real

Academia Española, noting that “queda aún una parte de deber pendiente: por parte de

los estudiosos de la Literatura española, el redactar libros de análisis y de crítica sobre la

obra de Torrente, cuya escasez, como comentábamos al principio de este trabajo, es tan

incomprensible como indignante” (125).

Carmen Becerra makes her first of several books on Torrente with Gonzalo

Torrente Ballester, published in 1982.5 Not precisely a critical work of its own right, this book contains biographical information on the Galician, followed by excerpts from selected, representative works including the “fantastic trilogy.” Becerra then includes excerpts from criticism on each of the works featured in the anthology section, as well as a chronology and a bibliography.

In Torrente Ballester en su mundo literario6 Giménez (Bartlett) renews her

scholarly interest in Torrente and his literature. In this volume, she comments on

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Torrente’s seemingly overnight success in Spain following the publication of La saga/

fuga de J.B.:

Sirva como comienzo, como segundo comienzo, el recordar que en el año 1972 brotó un fuerte chorro de agua del suelo bastante estéril de nuestro campo literario. Muchos se admiraron de la variedad de las formas que tomaba el líquido, de lo caprichoso del ruido de caer, de los laberintos, de los colores, de las notas musicales que la fuente provocaba. Se trata, de una vez por todas, de recordar que esa fuente no era un surtidor ocasional o espontáneo, sino una fuente subterránea, un río que fluía y había fluido desde mucho tiempo atrás sin que nadie pareciera darse demasiada cuenta. Esa es y será una de las principales particularidades de T.B., su reconocimiento en los altos niveles intelectuales del país, con poca permeabilidad en un principio a niveles más bajos, y su recuperación, me atrevería a decir tumultuosa, a raíz de una de sus obras que le hará ser conocido y admirado, que lo devolverá del dorado anonimato de los críticos especializados o de las academias, al mundo vivo de los lectores, de la reseña periodística, de la entrevista, de los homenajes, de las conferencias multitudinarias, del contacto entre autor-sociedad. (15)

Giménez concentrates her literary analysis in the following sections: “Realismo: novelas

y relatos realistas desde 1944 hasta 1969” (Javier Mariño, Los gozos y las sombras, Off-

side), “Novela intelectual” (Ifigenia, El golpe de estado de Guadalupe Limón, Don Juan,

El hostal de los dioses amables), “La novela fantástica” (the “fantastic trilogy”), and

“Otros relatos fantásticos.” She also offers insight into Torrente’s literature as a whole,

exploring common themes. Giménez then discusses the Galician’s essays and criticism,

before closing her study with a bibliography of works on and by him. Though most of

the books she mentions do not focus specifically on Torrente, they nonetheless constitute

some of the most up-to-date criticism on the author at the time of publication of Torrente

Ballester en su mundo literario, making this study a valuable research tool for other

Torrente scholars.

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Janet Pérez’s Gonzalo Torrente Ballester,7 published shortly following the publication of La isla de los jacintos cortados, is one of the pioneering critical studies on

Torrente. Pérez discusses Torrente’s life up to the publication of the study, as well as

early works leading up to the “fantastic trilogy.” Pérez focuses on Torrente’s theatrical

works and early criticism first, noting the presence of certain elements in these works

which would continue to appear throughout Torrente’s literary career. She states that

“Today, Torrente is unquestionably the most highly lauded novelist in Spain, but nothing

essential in his stance has changed: it is the public which has changed” (158-9).

Explaining further, Pérez states:

Over the course of more than four decades as a novelist, Torrente’s technique has evolved and his emphasis has changed, but the essentials has not: intellectuality, humor, satire, a critical stance, a fascination for myth and history, the alternation of fantasy and parody with an underlying realism, self-conscious experimentalism, and the interest in novelistic theory. All are present to varying degrees in all his narratives, although in some the mythic predominates, while others are more sober. If a continuing trend can be distinguished in Torrente’s work, it is the sustained increase in humor, parody, and self-conscious theorizing, accompanied by an ever-growing intellectual capacity. (159-60)

Similarly, Pérez devotes a chapter to Torrente’s first novels, Javier Mariño and El

golpe de estado de Guadalupe Limón. Pérez then devotes a lengthy chapter of her study

on Torrente’s trilogy, Los gozos y las sombras. Pérez devotes the next chapter to the pair

of novels Ifigenia and Don Juan. She then discusses Off-side in one chapter, followed by

La saga/ fuga de J.B. in another chapter, and a chapter devoted to short fiction and essays,

before finishing her analysis with a chapter devoted to Torrente’s (at the time) most

recent publications, Fragmentos de Apocalipsis and La isla de los jacintos cortados.

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Pérez, undoubtedly aware of critical grouping of La saga/ fuga, Fragmentos, and La isla

into a “fantastic trilogy,” maintains that:

La Saga/ fuga de J.B., Fragmentos de apocalipsis, and La isla de los jacintos cortados belong to another cycle unified by a common preoccupation with literary theory, the self-conscious character, the relationship between literature and reality, and a pronounced parodic tendency. If indeed the three recent experimental novels constitute a trilogy, it is not in the usual sense, for their structural interrelatedness is extremely tenuous with no common characters, common time or setting, without continuity of action from one to the other. The trilogy “Los gozos y las sombras” is thus Torrente’s only complete, unified novelistic cycle. (53)

In her conclusion, Pérez affirms that “The frustrated dramatist who spent most of his life as an obscure high-school teacher is today one of Spain’s most honored and creative intellectuals, unchallenged as the novelist of the decade” (161).

Frieda Blackwell makes an important contribution to studies of Torrente’s

literature with The Game of Literature: Demythification and Parody in Novels of

Gonzalo Torrente Ballester.8 Blackwell begins by asserting:

Nothing in literature is ever lost, nor is any work a totally new creation. Literature is constantly revitalized as writers create while simultaneously drawing thematically and stylistically from a long literary tradition. In his novels, Gonzalo Torrente Ballester consciously lays bare this tradition and through the use of this exposing, ironic technique renews a very common theme of Spanish letters: the disparity between appearance and reality. (11)

Noting Torrente’s observations of Spain of the Spanish Civil War and the immediate postwar as major influences, Blackwell explains how the Galician utilizes literary techniques such as parody and humor to overturn the demythification of Spanish history as established by the Franco regime. This critic focuses on El golpe de estado de

Guadalupe Limón, Ifigenia, Don Juan, and Off-side, to illustrate the various forms of

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 demythification present in Torrente’s literature (i.e., demythification of historico-political myths, of a national cultural myth, of social and literary conventions) before suggesting a demythification and remythification of history and literature in La saga/ fuga de J.B. and

Fragmentos de Apocalipsis.

Shortly after Torrente received the Cervantes Prize, the journal Anthropos

published two special numbers dedicated to his life and works. The first issue, a número

extraordinario, was published in 1986 to celebrate the bestowing of the prestigious

literary prize on the Ferrol native. It includes comments by the author on his life and

literary works up until he received the prize, as well as his “Currículum en cierto modo”

and “Cómo se fue Miguela,” as well as Torrente’s discourse on receiving the Cervantes

Prize. Torrente remarks on being the first Spaniard to win the award which some

consider to be the Nobel Prize of the Spanish-speaking world address: “Soy el primer

novelista español que recibe este premio, destinado a honrar a los creadores de ambos

lados del Atlántico, no porque mis merecimientos superen los de mis colegas, sino

porque alguien tenía que ser el primero, y la suerte quiso que fuese yo” (45). Later in his speech, Torrente discusses the importance of Cervantes in his literary work. He states:

El escritor vive en la realidad inevitablemente, pero, además, como materia prima de su arte, sólo cuenta con ella, con lo que de ella pueda obtener o recibir; a la relación del hombre con lo real llamamos experiencia. […] Hay quien, pues, ante la realidad así conocida y experimentada, adopta una actitud radical que, al expresarse poéticamente, aproxima a la poesía, en tanto respuesta a la experiencia, en tanto nutrida de ella, a esa otra repuesta ya mencionada, la que declara el sentido de lo que existe o reconoce su carencia: por otros caminos, pero hacia las mismas metas. Yo pertenezco a una generación de escritores a la que preocupó ante todo hallar ese sentido. (46)

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Immediately following the transcript of Torrente’s discurso are works of fiction and reflection by Spanish writers Alfredo Conde, Francisco Cataño and Alicia Giménez, as well as Portuguese writer Miguel Viqueira. After these appear articles of literary analysis contributed by scholars from Spain, France, and the United States. Many of these articles focus on the most recent of Torrente’s literary works, many of them paying attention to elements in Torrente’s literature which most closely link him to Cervantes.

The second issue of Anthropos published to commemorate the presentation of the

Cervantes Prize to Torrente, published in 1987, contains further critical reflection on

Torrente’s literary work and the Cervantine characteristics found therein, as well as the

importance of Torrente’s publications in contemporary Spanish literature. A carefully

compiled bibliography of work by and about Torrente, prepared by Carmen Becerra,

completes this issue of Anthropos.

Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester,9 edited by Janet Pérez and

Stephen Miller, was published shortly after Torrente was awarded the Cervantes Prize.

As Pérez observes in the Introduction, “Given the near-total lack of critical notice of

Torrente’s early career, it comes as no surprise that few studies exist of works prior to La

saga/ fuga. Indeed, the total corpus of critical writings on Torrente continues to be relatively small in proportion to his obvious significance” (1). The collection brings together many prominent Torrente scholars, and constitutes a solid contribution to

Torrente studies. Pérez states that the intention of the collection was not only to honor

Torrente for the latest and most significant of a series of awards the Galician author had received during the past decade and a half, but also to “deal with the neglected early

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 works” (2). Pérez also notes that many of the essays in the collection still focus on the

“fantastic trilogy” as well as Quizá nos lleve el viento al infinito and Yo no soy yo,

evidentemente, for those were the novels published most recently before Critical Studies.

This, however, by no means diminishes the value which Critical Studies has for Torrente

scholarship, thanks in small part to essays exploring Torrente’s early works (“Parodia y

subversión en las primeras novelas de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester”10), as well as one

which analyzes aspects of Torrente’s theatrical works (“El viaje del joven Tobías and the

Quest for Purity”11).

Critical Studies is divided into four sections. Each article in the first section focuses on one of Torrente’s works, whereas articles in the second section treat multiple

works. The articles treat a diverse set of topics in Torrente’s literature, including speech acts,12 syllabic games,13 intertextuality and literary borrowings,14 apocalyptic themes,15

metafiction,16 myth and metaphor,17 questions of identity,18 literature within literature,19

history in fiction and fiction in history,20 historiography,21 and existentialism in the face

of Catholicism.22 The third section of Critical Studies deals with Torrente’s literary

theories. Two articles on literary theory (by notable Torrente scholars Ángel Loureiro

and Stephen Miller) address how Torrente’s dual role of writer and literary critic often

coincided in his literature. The fourth and final section of Critical Studies consists of an interview with Torrente, conducted by Stephen and Francisca Miller. The interview which concludes Critical Studies (as Pérez explains in the Introduction):

centers upon clarification of the controversial issue of the novelist’s politico-literary attitudes during the period 1930-1960. The intention of the interviewers is to clarify Torrente’s political sentiments during the Civil War and his prolonged period of literary apprenticeship, his

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

relationship to the Falange and the Franco regime, and the relevance of these for his literary career. (11)

Critical Studies contains solid criticism, as well as the insightful interview of the author

himself, providing a valuable resource for those studying Torrente, his life and his

literature.

Genaro Pérez contributes to the critical dialogue on Torrente’s work in his book

entitled La novela como burla/ juego: Siete experimentos novelescos de Gonzalo

Torrente Ballester.23 This critic refers to Torrente as “uno de los escritores españoles

más honrados y más innovadores,” stating that La novela como burla/ juego “es el

resultado en parte de la admiración por siete novelas experimentales de Torrente

Ballester, las más innovadoras y originales que el genial gallego ha escrito hasta la fecha”

(13). Pérez also identifies a veritable myriad of literary influences on the Galician writer, including Cervantes, Sterne, Joyce, as well as theories such as structuralism, deconstructionism, semiotics, reader response, and Russian formalism (14), stating that the amalgam of these influences has produced in Torrente’s experimental novels something which goes beyond the nueva novela española of the 1960s and 1970s. Pérez

maintains that, through use of prominent techniques of the nueva novela española,

Torrente:

logra mantener un contenido tradicional que el lector medio puede entender. Esto no equivale decir que el lector tiene que ser pasivo y no poner nada de su parte (como es característico de muchas “nuevas novelas”), sino que en la novelística experimental de Torrente pueden existir dos tipos de lectores: el lector medio, pasivo, para quien sólo existe un texto; y el lector activo quien tiene que poner mucho de su parte puesto que el propósito primordial de las novelas no es el contenido, sino el deleite del(os) texto(s) en sí y para sí. (14-15)

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Notwithstanding the possibility of multiple ways in which to read the nueva novela española, Pérez acknowledges the intellectual depth accomplished by Torrente, even in his more recent, experimental novels.

Pérez first analyzes Don Juan, noting the burlesque elements contained in

Torrente’s version of the myth originated by Tirso Molina. For this critic, “El tema principal de la novela es la burla. Pero no se limita a Don Juan como notorio burlador; alude también a la burla sufrida por el narrador español a manos de los actores, y además,

se burla de aquellos lectores ingenuos que esperaban una obra convencional y cerrada”

(19). Pérez then compares Off-side with the novela negra, although he notes certain

disparities between Torrente’s novel and the typical novel of this literary genre.24 He

states that, “En el caso de Torrente, el lector familiarizado con el género se da cuenta

inmediatamente que Off-side tiene una densidad de elementos filosóficos que no se encuentran en la típica novela negra” (33). Pérez also cites Ortega y Gasset and Flaubert as major influences in the philosophical and realist/ quasi-objectivist style that Torrente

employs in Off-side. Pérez highlights various characteristics of the typical detective novel found in Torrente’s novel, including sex and homosexuality, drugs, prostitution, and crime, as well as those found in social Realist works of mid-century Spain, like religion the role of the individual in society, and the emotional commitment of the individual to society and against totalitarianism (36). He then mentions elements found in Off-side featured in works published after this novel:

Entre los elementos precursores de las futuras novelas de Torrente (aunque ya existen rasgos en las novelas primerizas), se observan ciertas preocupaciones estilísticas y temáticas ya notadas en Don Juan y que luego se desarrollarán más ampliamente, verbigracia, la metaficción o el

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

narrador autoconsciente. Igualmente se notan las dicotomías de realidad/ irrealidad, realidad/ historia, realidad/ invención-apariencia.

Far from being limited to the works analyzed in La novela como burla/ juego, these

stylistic and thematic preoccupations are also prominent in the works to be analyzed in

the present study. In addition, the particular richness of themes and elements found in

Off-side prompts Pérez to conclude that the novel “no merece haber sido ignorada por la crítica y el público [. . .]. A Torrente le faltó enchufe, buenas conexiones entre la crítica

peninsular” (41).

Pérez devotes a chapter of La novela como burla/ juego to each of the novels

comprising Torrente’s “fantastic trilogy,” applying a different theoretical approach to

each one. He takes a structuralist stance in his analysis of La saga/ fuga de J.B., focusing

on intertextual devices employed in the novel that many critics have judged to be the

most important of Torrente’s literary work.25 Pérez cites structuralist techniques such as

charts used to explain theories related to the different J.B. personae and the poem

consisting of syllables whose varying combinations yield nonsense words (50-51). Pérez

also comments on the presence of Cervantes in Torrente’s novel, noting that:

Torrente experimenta con el desenlace variable o múltiple en La saga/ fuga, resucitando a personajes muertos ya, y cambiando el final de los acontecimientos de acuerdo con diferentes posibilidades [. . .]. Obviamente, Torrente está consciente tanto del aspecto lúdico como del aspecto teórico-experimental y el más profundamente filosófico, existencial, del juego de múltiples y variables desenlaces que pone al relieve el contraste entre la obra de arte y la realidad: aquélla puede hacerse y deshacerse según los caprichos del creador, mientras que ésta se limita a un solo final. El ser humano no puede volver, no puede revivir lo ya vivido ni cambiar los resultados de decisiones equivocadas ni de consecuencias desagradables. (52)

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

This observation provides insight into one of the ludic elements found in Torrente’s literature, which is the play between fiction/ fantasy (following Todorov’s definition of the fantastic) and reality.

Pérez follows his structuralist analysis of La saga/ fuga with a deconstructionist

perspective on Fragmentos de Apocalipsis. As ways of a continuation of the final pages of La saga/ fuga—in which Pérez suggests that the protagonist/ narrator/ author threatens

the authenticity of his own narration throughout the novel (51)—here this critic maintains

that “Torrente lleva hasta un extremo el concepto metaliterario de autoconciencia o de novela autorreferencial” (57). Pérez explains:

Esta novela es una prolongada meditación, entre lúcida y alucinada, sobre el proceso de creación literaria, sus problemas y placeres secretos, como también los trucos y las trampas del escritor, particularmente la de cuestionar repetidamente la autoridad/ autoría del texto y la existencia de un narrador, tan en boga últimamente. (57)

Pérez credits Torrente’s vast knowledge of critical and literary theory to the games the

Galician writer plays in Fragmentos. As with other works by Torrente which appeared

before and after it, Fragmentos contains many intertextual, autoreferential elements, as

well as a continued play with certain binaries such as reality/ fiction, reality/ fantasy, real

life/ literature, etc. (66). As Pérez concludes:

El ensayo de metaficción iniciado en Don Juan llega al límite de la experimentación autoconsciente y teórica en Fragmentos de Apocalipsis, experimento enajenante y sin embargo lúcido, destrucción creadora, novela/ texto/ narrador/ autor despedazados y recreados continuamente: desconstrucción paródica. (66)

Pérez comments upon the history/ fantasy, or history/ fiction, dichotomy prevalent in many of Torrente’s literary works in his analysis of La isla de los jacintos cortados.

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

This critic contrasts the fictional aspects of La isla—the proof offered that Napoleon

Bonaparte never really existed, having been created by a cabal to propagate a national

myth—to the Galdosian Realist manner in which Torrente depicted Galicia in his

historical trilogy, Los gozos y las sombras. Comparing La isla to El golpe de estado de

Guadalupe Limón, Pérez astutely observes that the creation of a national myth lies at the

very heart of La isla. Furthermore, he continues, “En estas obras, se detiene antes de

sostener que ciertos hechos históricos tenidos por verdaderos pueden ser totalmente

falsos, invenciones puras, o que un prohombre de la historia europea moderna no existió

nunca” (70). This critic also discusses the notion of singularización, as applied to the

passage of time in La isla: there is no concept of past or future, only the present,

reminiscent of Unamuno’s concept of intrahistoria. Pérez states that “Escribir la historia con protagonistas y unidades es hacer teatro; el modo legítimo de escribirla exigiría la enumeración de todo cuanto acontece, un método interminable. Las divisiones que suelen hacer los historiadores son igualmente artificiales, pues la realidad no se divide en

épocas, años o minutos” (73-74). Pérez declares La isla to be a more conventional novel

than the other novels studied in La novela como burla/ juego, yet he praises the novel as

“originalísima en su ‘demostración’ de la mentira de la historia, que establece la superioridad de la ficción sobre los métodos historiográficos” (78).

Pérez discusses two novels published after the “fantastic trilogy,” Quizá nos lleve

el viento al infinito and Yo no soy yo, evidentemente. The critic illustrates how Torrente

utilized elements of science fiction and the spy novel as a form of protest in Quizá nos

lleve el viento al infinito. By combining the two aforementioned genres, Torrente has

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 opened the door to new possibilities otherwise unavailable to authors of one genre or the other. In addition, Pérez says, this allows Torrente a new way to continue his trend of demythologization established much earlier during the Galician’s literary career (81-85).

Finally, Pérez explores questions of identity and literary research in Yo no soy yo,

evidentemente. The novel revolves around what Janet Pérez has referred to as “academic

detecting.”26 As other critics have noted, Pérez discusses Torrente’s interest in leading

Portuguese author Fernando Pessoa, and the heteronyms he created, complete with their

own biographies and “authors” of their own styles of literature. Relating back to Yo no

soy yo, Pérez explains that the principal theme is the subject of authorship and the

process of “cuestionar la realidad del texto y del autor del mismo” (87). As a conclusion,

Pérez states:

En conjunto, las siete novelas estudiadas aquí representan una aportación muy significativa al caudal literario español. Tal conclusión no es ni personal ni nada arriesgada, puesto que el Premio Cervantes se concede solamente a escritores que han contribuido con la totalidad de su obra a incrementar notablemente el patrimonio literario del mundo hispánico entero. Por lo tanto, resulta inconcebible que de aquí en adelante cualquier estudio serio de la nueva novela española no incluya varias de las novelas de Torrente aquí examinadas. (97)

Thus, Pérez echoes other critics by insisting that a continuation in studies of Torrente’s

literature is sorely needed.

Janet Pérez comments on various elements in Filomeno, a mi pesar, in an article27

appearing shortly after this novel was published and won the Premio Planeta. Pérez

comments on the noticeable lack of elements popular in Torrente’s works which appeared

before Filomeno, particularly humor and literary experimentation. This critic also states

that even the notoriety of the Premio Planeta could not explain the fact that the novel had

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 gone through eight editions in the five months following its initial publication (341).

What Pérez finds interesting about Filomeno is precisely the fact that the novel takes

place during roughly the same time as its author’s life, beginning in the early Twentieth

Century and ending sometime in the decade following the Spanish Civil War. This is

significant because many of Torrente’s earlier works referred to the same time period

only allegorically or otherwise obliquely, often thinly veiled as taking place in “another

place, another time,” in a conscious effort Torrente made to get around the Francoist

censors. Since Filomeno was published over a decade after Franco’s death (and close to

a decade after the ratification of Spain’s constitution), Torrente could represent events

during this time frame more openly and directly. To that matter, Pérez discusses the

potential importance of the protagonist’s name, referring to the ancient mythical figure of

Philomena. This critic then suggests that the violence committed against Philomena—

she was raped and her tongue cut out—could be somehow symbolic of the various forms

of punishment Torrente experienced by Franco censors, who either grossly edited, or

outright banned, his earlier literary works, and for a short time would not even allow the

writer to publish under his own name (345).

Sagrario Ruiz Baños contributes a lengthy study on the literary output of

Torrente. Her dissertation, “La novela intelectual de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester,”28 draws upon studies conducted on Torrente’s narrative, theatre, essay, and journalism in order to yield “la consideración de Torrente como ‘novelista intelectual’ y su incardinación en una tradición narrativa de la historia de la literatura española, que parte, como es natural, de Cervantes y su magistral obra de arte” (2). She proceeds to analyze

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Torrente’s literature, from Javier Mariño to Yo no soy yo, evidentemente. She then

compares Torrente’s intellectualism to that of Wilhelm Dilthey, Eugenio D’Ors, Romano

Guardini, and José Ortega y Gasset, among others. One interesting section involves the

role of reality and fantasy in literature. Ruiz Baños will continue to study these and other

topics in Torrente, including the prominence of history in fiction and fiction as quasi- historical account, in later studies.

Ángel Loureiro provides an insightful study of the “fantastic trilogy” with his

Mentira y seducción: La trilogía fantástica de Torrente Ballester.29 While Loureiro

acknowledges the increased amount of attention the “fantastic trilogy” won for Torrente,

both from critics and the public, he asserts that the Galician’s literary oeuvre still merits

much more attention. He states the following:

Este libro persigue el objetivo de mostrar la complejidad y riqueza técnica de las tres novelas de Torrente que, en su conjunto, reúnen todas las características más destacadas de su larga carrera narrativa, utilizándose para ello una variedad de acercamientos provenientes en general de diversos sectores teóricos de la narratología. (10)

Loureiro devotes one chapter each to the three works of the “fantastic trilogy,” with as

many pages on La saga/ fuga de J.B. as Fragmentos de Apocalipsis and La isla de los

jacintos cortados combined. Rather than closing with a “Conclusions” chapter, Loureiro

prefers “Punto y Seguido…,” thus implying that studies on the “fantastic trilogy” (as well

as all of Torrente’s literature) should continue well beyond the end of this one.

Perhaps one of the single most important contributions to studies of Torrente is

Carmen Becerra’s Guardo la voz, cedo la palabra: Conversaciones con Gonzalo Torrente

Ballester.30 As the title implies, the book consists of a series of interviews this critic

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 conducted with Torrente over the decade following the publication of the final installment of the “fantastic trilogy,” La isla de los jacintos cortados. Becerra divides the

book into specific themes, stating that:

A través de sus páginas he pretendido poner al lector en contacto directo con la voz de Gonzalo Torrente, con su peculiar manera de ver el mundo y con su vastísima cultura. En esta larga conversación estructurada en bloques, que desarrollan cada uno un único tema, pueden hallarse la mayoría de las claves de las creaciones torrentinas, algunas ya expresadas por él en otros lugares y momentos, dispersas e incontrolables, aquí reunidas y ordenadas. (14)

The conversations contained in Guardo la voz, cedo la palabra provide invaluable

insight—from the author himself—on some of the most important themes found in

Torrente’s literature.

José Ponte Far contributes a study of the presence of Galicia in Torrente’s

literature with his Galicia en la obra narrativa de Torrente Ballester.31 He begins by

providing an extensive amount of biographical information on Torrente. Ponte Far then

lists literary works published by Torrente, as well as criticism on and interviews of him,

before finishing his study with his own literary analysis. This critic considers Galician

landscape, myths and legends, various elements of the weather (rain, wind, etc.), as well

as habitats, homes, and the “pazo” as influential on Torrente’s writing.

Another significant contribution to Torrente studies is La creación literaria de

Gonzalo Torrente Ballester.32 Like La Tabla Redonda, this major scholarly resource

began as a conference series and was spearheaded by Carmen Becerra and two other

Galician professors specialized in Torrente studies, Ángel Abuín and Ángel Candelas. In

it are featured some of the most prominent Torrente scholars of the past decade: Ángel

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Loureiro, Janet Pérez, Ángel Basanta, Carmen Becerra, and José Antonio Ponte Far.

Also included in La creación literaria is a talk given by famed Portuguese novelist and

Nobel laureate José Saramago, which compares Torrente to Cervantes in terms of the

quality of their literature, and more specifically, makes a comparison between the

former’s La saga/fuga de J.B. and the latter’s Don Quijote. Saramago states:

Un día escribí que el lugar a la derecha de Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, autor del Quijote, vacante durante siglos, había sido ocupado por Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, autor de La saga/fuga de J.B. Vuelvo a decirlo ahora, habré de repetirlo mañana, sabedor de que muchos y muchos años tendrán que pasar antes de que se vuelva a escribir un libro como éste. (21)

Several years of friendship and avid reading of each other’s works made of the Torrente-

Saramago duo a mutual admiration society.

Eduardo Alonso, in his essay, “La fabulación ‘como si,’”33 discusses his

experiences reading Torrente from an early age. Alonso cites the influence of Cervantes

on Torrente’s literature, saying that “Siempre me han fascinado los escritores capaces de

poblar espacios de apariencia fabulosos” (24). He notes Torrente’s affirmation that “toda

narración puede ser infinita, igual que amorfa, como la vida” (24), and his comment that

“El novelista se mueve en esos movedizos territorios: tratar lo importante con aparente

ligereza, aliviar lo árido con el juego, escribir novelas como Chopin componía música:

dar baile al dolor” (30). Upon consideration of the conditions in which Torrente

produced much of his literature, one understands the importance of criticizing the powers

that be behind the veiled setting of novels involving another place and another time. As

for the characters, Alonso astutely points out that “los personajes de Torrente no son

violentos, no son seres abocados a la destrucción por una idea o un ideal arrasador, por

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 una pasión desbaratada, por un desgarro trágico. Pero son pequeños transgresores.

Quebrantan creencias, aunque son tributarios de la convención. Son libres por dentro, pero por fuera sólo un poquito estrafalarios” (29). This observation evinces a penetrating, intuitive discernment of Torrente’s characters.

Alonso notes that what readers look for in Torrente’s literature are ambiguity (31) and uncertainty (“Esto es lo que queríamos oír como pulso propio, bajo la envoltura amena de la ficción: la incertidumbre” 32). Alonso perceives in Torrente the reader of

Unamuno, who thrives on paradox, as seen in the following discourse on what might be called Torrente’s method:

Torrente no es posmoderno. No plantea tanto el estar, como ha hecho mucho la novela de estos años, cuanto el ser, aunque sin la gravedad dramática o angustiada con que lo trató la modernidad. Porque en él la complejidad se expone con el cervantino recurso del como si: se acepta el orden del mundo, aunque se cree que es un caos. El mundo visto a la manera ferrolana, en la medida en que El Ferrol “es una ciudad lógica en un entorno mágico.” Ésa es la clave de sus novelas: una lógica vertebradora en un marco ficticio. Ni términos a contrario ni síntesis: complementariedad sin soluciones y sin moralinas. (32)

For Alonso, as for many critics, Torrente’s literature is firmly rooted in the fantasy and mysticism which are part of Galician literature. But, as Alonso observes, there is a canvas of logic upon Torrente paints even his most fantastic works, astutely noting: “La fantasía se impregna de una tonalidad escéptica y humorística sobre la realidad” (34).

Alonso concludes by saying, “La fantasía es el excipiente, el formol de los sueños y de las creencias. Sus novelas [las de Torrente] proponen una forma ilusa de felicidad pero, al mismo tiempo, tienen algo de fonendoscopio con el que se oyen los latidos acezantes de la vida. El como si… es la condición del jugador. Y del escritor” (34).

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Sagrario Ruiz Baños examines Torrente’s methods of writing fictional works in her contribution to La creación literaria, “La construcción ficcional en Gonzalo Torrente

Ballester.”34 Ruiz Baños discusses Torrente’s work as both literary critic and novelist,

and notes that the author “ha ejercido paralelamente ambas facetas casi con simultaneidad: la crítica como profesional, la creación como vocación íntima, y el cultivo

del espíritu, lo que él mismo denomina ‘alma rica,’ como deber inexcusable y alimento

humanístico” (35). Ruiz Baños cites Cervantes, Ortega y Gasset, Pirandello, and

Fernando Pessoa as influences on Torrente.

Ruiz Baños parts from the premise that Torrente is a born intellectual, both

cultured and in possession of a quasi-instinctive “‘saber’ mágico” (39) as well. Thus:

intelecto y fantasía, en suma, son los pilares básicos de su imaginación creativa, conforman un todo orgánico y “real” con su propia coherencia interna, de la que se desprende una peculiar “verdad” poética. Porque la realidad para Torrente es tanto la vital como la creativa, entendida la creación como epifanía de la vida, valga la paradoja. Y que sea válida de veras, pues el escritor gallego asume, en su condición de hombre complejo y auténtico, la radical ambigüedad de lo real, entendido como sistema de apariencias, y cree firmemente, con la fe del artista, que la realidad se abre y el hombre puede introducir en ella nuevos y posibles mundos mediante la palabra. La realidad de lo creado se completa siempre con la realidad creativa del arte. (39)

Ruiz Baños examines narrative verisimilitude and reality at length. She determines that

Torrente has always been a good storyteller (40), likely owing in part to his Galician heritage: “Tras el tono cervantino y, más que cervantino, quijotesco del ‘empeño’ de

‘camino propio,’ lo que se percibe es una auténtica filiación narrativa de Torrente: el mundo gallego de su infancia, en el que ‘contar’ era inventar realidad” (41). This, Ruiz

Baños explains, is how Torrente can write novels which seem to defy reality as the reader

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 knows it. Ruiz Baños adds: “Y es que las novelas de Torrente se plantean como una alternativa posible y fantástica, desmitificadora de la verdad histórica o épica, como ocurre, por ejemplo, con La isla de los jacintos cortados, obra que plantea la posible

inexistencia de Napoleón sobre una trama ficcional compleja pero verosímil en su ‘lógica

interna’” (42).

Ruiz Baños maintains that the line between reality and verisimilitude in literature would not mean much without a narrator to relate these things to the reader:

Para Torrente Ballester, el narrador, su figura, es un elemento fundamental de sus discursos novelescos, precisamente por la lejanía de sus presupuestos estéticos de aquellos “objetivistas” que dieron lugar al “nouveau roman,” y que le hacen autodefinirse como “escritor anticuado.” Para Torrente, la presencia del narrador es un juego de manipulación fabulística que entronca con la narrativa tradicional, pero que tiene también que ver con su modernidad, profundizando en lo más clásico del género. Al estudiar El Quijote como juego señala el escritor gallego que “el autor” “ha jugado” y el libro es, no uno, sino todo un “sistema de juegos que en su ilimitada libertad llegan al borde del acertijo (…) el narrador es la pieza primordial.” (45; internal citation from Torrente, El Quijote como juego 27)

Thus, as Ruiz Baños indicates, Torrente considers the narrator one of the principal pieces in the puzzle which is his literature. Ruiz Baños certainly is not the only critic to emphasize Cervantes’s influence on Torrente, his thinking, and his writing. Her citation of Torrente’s El Quijote como juego mirrors other critics’ observations of the Cervantine

literary games which take place in Torrente’s literature. Ruiz Baños summarizes as

follows: “la unidad de construcción en íntima conexión con el juego del narrador que ofrece como resultado un hermetismo novelesco de atmósfera ambigua. En el juego de la

parodia, la ironía es, constructivamente, muy seria y la función del narrador,

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 fundamental” (47). These comments by Ruiz Baños harmonize with, and complement, some of Alonso’s most penetrating insights.

Ruiz Baños returns to differences between fantasy and reality, as well as those between verisimilitude and reality, in Torrente’s literature. She affirms that “la fantasía es en Torrente el punto de partida creativo; la fantasía entendida como ensanchamiento posible de lo real (. . .). Es decir, que lo posible inventa imágenes que son las que, en palabras de Torrente, producen la impresión de realidad en lo literario” (48). This critic concludes her study by indicating her disagreement with critics’ consideration of La saga/

fuga de J.B., Fragmentos de Apocalipsis, and La isla de los jacintos cortados as a

“fantastic trilogy” (59), citing Gonzalo Sobejano,35 who had seen these novels as a new

direction in Torrente’s literature (something Torrente confirmed in his comments on

these three novels):

(…) la narrativa torrentina ha evolucionado desde unos inicios “contaminados” por la práctica teatral, hasta la consciencia del género novelesco (mediante la doble vía de la novela cervantina, así como de técnicas de crítica literaria fundamentalmente rusa, francesa y estadounidense, en las sucesivas ramificaciones del formalismo) y su inversión, su proceso, su poematización, su espejo y su dimensión lúdica (a partir de Quizá nos lleve el viento al infinito, como señaló levemente Sobejano al definir a esta novela como “lúdica” (“que cultiva el entretenimiento parodiando”). (59, internal citation from Sobejano 1 [see previous note])

Ángel Loureiro discusses “Torrente Ballester, novelista postmoderno”36 in his

contribution to La creación literaria de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester. In his essay, Loureiro

focuses on metafiction and history,37 which he considers to be “dos características que

juegan un papel fundamental en la obra de Torrente” (61). With these characteristics of

postmodern fiction in mind, Loureiro, noting that there exists “por encima del nivel

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 meramente narrativo, un segundo nivel que en casi todas las obras que Torrente escribe desde el Don Juan va a tomar un cariz abiertamente metaficcional” (62), centers his

discussion on the “fantastic trilogy.” While worded quite differently, Loureiro’s

observation of an essential, underlying dichotomy in Torrente coincides with the

perceptions of Alonso and Ruiz Baños. Loureiro’s reasoning for limiting the scope of his

article to the “fantastic trilogy” is this:

Las novelas que integran la “trilogía fantástica” de Torrente constituyen ejemplos perfectos del tipo de obra que Linda Hutcheon denomina ‘metaficción historiográfica’ y que, a su modo de ver, constituye el tipo fundamental de novela postmoderna [… porque] el postmodernismo no sólo cultiva la metaficción sino que añade otro ingrediente fundamental, la historia como tema, la historia como construcción humana. De ahí el nombre que Linda Hutcheon da a la novela postmoderna—metaficción historiográfica—, la cual incorpora literatura, teoría e historia. (62)

Loureiro identifies a significant difference between Torrente’s fiction and other, more

“mainstream” postmodernism, as he observes:

La historia y la ficción, para Torrente, coinciden entonces en su naturaleza narrativa, pero la historia no es por eso simplemente, como quiere Hutcheon, un texto semiótico, una construcción humana, un conjunto de signos interpretables y revisables. La historia es una forma de representación que no puede prescindir de la figuración, como insiste Hayden White. (70)

Yet Loureiro perceives that Torrente’s literature transcends Hutcheon’s definitions of

“metaficción historiográfica,” and chooses to cite Paul Ricoeur:

En vena postmoderna, Torrente parodia en su obra los grandes relatos legitimadores, pero eso no significa que la narración sea algo meramente negativo, como quiere Lyotard, sino todo lo contrario. En este sentido, Torrente estaría cerca de Paul Ricoeur, para quien la historia y la ficción están relacionadas, debido a que ambas ofrecen respuestas diferentes pero complementarias a la discordancia entre esas dos dimensiones del tiempo a las que Ricoeur llama tiempo vivido y tiempo cósmico.38 Mientras que la historia reinscribe el tiempo vivido en el tiempo cósmico por medio del

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

calendario, las generaciones y los documentos como trazas, la ficción, indica Ricoeur, ofrecería variaciones imaginativas sobre esas formas de reinscripción, sobre la fisura que divide ambos tiempos (A Ricoeur Reader 338-54). La ficción y la historia se entrecruzan debido al papel de la imaginación productiva en la reconstrucción del pasado no observable, mientras que la ficción tiene de la historia su sentido de casi-pasado, de “como si.” Esta reivindicación de la imaginación y del valor de la narrativa que se da en Ricoeur la sustenta Torrente con su práctica narrativa. (71)

Loureiro has touched upon one of the quintessential elements of Torrente’s writing: the

blend of history and fiction is unmistakably present in several of the Galician author’s

works, from the beginning of his literary career until the end. For decades, such a

convention was a necessary mechanism of subterfuge for Torrente to obtain approval for

publication by the censors of the Franco regime; after Franco’s death and Spain’s transition to democracy, this blending of fact and fiction had already become second nature for Torrente.

Similar to Loureiro’s article, Janet Pérez’s contribution to La creación literaria de

Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, “Sátiras del poder en la narrativa de Torrente,”39 offers a critical perspective on a recurring theme in Torrente’s literature. As the title implies,

Pérez’s focus is on representations of people and groups in power—whether dictators, or monarchs, or otherwise—in various works. Also evident by the title of her article, Pérez is quick to point out that those who believe they are in power, or who are taken to be in

power, often are the least powerful characters in Torrente’s literature. Pérez first

discusses themes constant in Torrente’s work, stating that: “De suma importancia son los temas nucleares del poder y la impotencia, el hombre y el mito, historia y ficción, censura y desinformación, guerra y revolución, temas de fuerte reverberaciones políticas,

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 generalmente tratados mediante la sátira, alegoría y desmitificación” (77). Pérez centers the rest of her article on satire, first providing definitions to help orient the reader interested in this aspect of Torrente’s writing. She then explains that many readers have misread Torrente’s literature: “Parte de tales equivocaciones puede deberse a no haber captado la ironía, no haber reconocido la sátira o no haber comprendido pasajes ambiguos y voces ambivalentes empleados de forma calculada para facilitar el paso por la censura”

(78). Pérez also illustrates one misreading of Javier Mariño which resulted in the critic labeling Torrente as a fascist:

Desafortunadamente, los exámenes políticos no suelen hacerse en un clima de objetividad, lo cual explicará la reticencia de muchos críticos al emplear tal enfoque. Típico de las tergiversaciones es el ensayo de Eduardo Iáñez Pareja sobre Javier Mariño, una denuncia de Torrente como fascista. Aunque Iáñez nunca explica lo que entiende por ideología fascista, afirma el fascismo de Torrente como punto de partida, argumento central y conclusión. Tampoco explica en qué consiste el fascismo, aparte de la pasajera asociación con la Falange en plena guerra civil. No es arbitrario exigir aclaraciones, puesto que no existe acuerdo general respecto a la definición del fascismo con sus muchas variantes nacionales, culturales y regionales. (79)

This is not the first time Torrente has been labeled a fascist because of his early ties to

Falange, though Pérez has commented numerous times on the fact that critics should not

mistakenly believe Torrente to have been a fascist without first considering the reasons

Torrente was affiliated with Falange. Pérez gives ample evidence as to the erroneous

nature of Iáñez’s criticism of Javier Mariño, reminding the reader that “Tales

equivocaciones o tergiversaciones ejemplifican las dificultades en la hermenéutica de

obras de Torrente. El error se debe, a veces, a la persuasiva ironía, no tan fácilmente

perceptible en su primera novela, debida a la falta de humor o comicidad” (84).

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Pérez then cites other literary works of Torrente’s which more readily illustrate the Galician author’s ample use of satire and other forms of humor, including

“Gerineldo,” El golpe de estado de Guadalupe Limón, La princesa durmiente va a la

escuela, La isla de los jacintos cortados, La rosa de los vientos, Filomeno, a mi pesar,

Crónica del rey pasmado, Las islas extraordinarias, among others. Pérez discusses works

dating from the 1940s through the early 1990s, up until the publication of Pérez’s article

in La creación literaria, illustrating how prevalent the use of satire is in Torrente’s literary

works.

More closely tied with the theme of her article, satires on power, Pérez notes that

“Son pocas las obras de Torrente donde no haya rebelión, revolución o guerra (históricas, míticas, o ficticias), donde no se encuentre el gobernante, el guerrero o el ideólogo,

factores difícilmente separables del poder y la política” (87). Pérez explains that this

could stem from Torrente’s early involvement with the Partido Anarquista, which Pérez

signals as “un factor intelectualmente significativo que apenas se ha tomado en cuenta,

pero que influye en su visión del poder y quienes lo ostentan” (87). Pérez also explains

how Torrente’s “rechazo visceral de la mitificación franquista y falangista por la

historiografía oficial de postguerra produce dos de los grandes núcleos de su obra

literaria, el tema del hombre y su mito, y el de la historia como ficción y viceversa” (88).

Dubbing Torrente an “anarquista literario” (88), Pérez indicates that:

Torrente subvierte la historiografía oficial de dos maneras: pinta el empleo de materiales inventados y sugiere la falsedad y mala fe hasta de la Historia canónica, como sucede en La isla de los jacintos cortados, donde un historiador del último cuarto del siglo XX encuentra “pruebas” de que Napoleón no ha sido nunca más que mito o invención. (88)

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Pérez adds that Napoleon is a fitting example of the historical subversions found in

Torrente’s literature, given Napoleon’s status as “mito del poder” (88). Pérez concludes her article by suggesting that “un estudio completo del tema del poder en Torrente tendría que ser mucho más extenso” (96), having laid the foundation for such a study with her article. She ends by stating:

Al igual que los temas centrales del poder y la impotencia, el hombre y su mito, historia y ficción, censura y desinformación, inextricablemente entretejidos, la sátira del poder político ofrece una perspectiva unificadora desde donde contemplar una extensa, profunda y complicada obra novelística. (96)

Isabel Torrente Fernández maintains that, through her readings of Torrente’s literature from Los gozos y las sombras to La muerte del Decano:

De todo ello concluí que Gonzalo Torrente Ballester nunca había abandonado su primera inclinación a la historia, pues en sus novelas utiliza materiales históricos, emite juicios interpretativos sobre los fenómenos de tal índole e, incluso, ofrece reflexiones sobre el estatuto epistemológico de este saber. (100)

Torrente Fernández focuses on La saga/ fuga de J.B. and La muerte del Decano in her

contribution to La creación literaria, “La historia en la narrativa de Torrente Ballester.”40

Given that La muerte was Torrente’s most recent publication at the time of Torrente

Fernández’s article, that it is a brief novel and it has History professors as two of its

protagonists, La muerte is a good choice for inclusion in Torrente Fernández’s article.

Her choice of La saga/ fuga should be obvious, as this is the most studied of all

Torrente’s literary works. As part of her reading of La muerte, Torrente Fernández states

that “El conocimiento histórico no está desvinculado de otros que tienen por objeto las

diferentes facetas de la realidad” (101). Or, “en la novela conocida como histórica, sus

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 autores, manteniendo mayor o menor fidelidad a ciertos hechos, se permiten atribuir a los personajes históricos conductas y sentimientos nula o escasamente constatables, aparte de poner en sus labios palabras que expresan ideas de los autores” (101-102).

Torrente Fernández also notes that the importance of the re-creation of the death of the title character is important, as are the details which go into any works of fiction that might involve historical details. Referring to the qualities of detective fiction found in La muerte, Torrente Fernández says that:

A este efecto recuerdo al historiador inglés Collingswood, quien en su obra Idea de la historia afirma como ‘la analogía entre métodos legales e históricos tiene cierto valor para comprender la historia.’ En el caso del Decano, la reconstrucción de su muerte conlleva la aplicación de un método coincidente, en muchos aspectos, con el del historiador (103).

Torrente Fernández notes that Torrente had wished to add a mythical aspect to La

saga/ fuga, drawing parallels between the different versions of J.B. in the novel and

England’s King Arthur and Portugal’s Dom Sebastião (104). Furthermore, Torrente

Fernández states, “el mito en cuanto elaborado por la sociedad no está fuera del interés de

la historia cuyo objeto es evidentemente social” (106). This critic ties certain mythical

aspects of La saga/ fuga back to the context of history in literature, saying that “también

es notoria la fidelidad a lo histórico, ya que los elementos culturales utilizados, aunque

combinados libremente por la imaginación, son históricos en cuanto corresponden al área

cultural galaica” (106). Thus, even in the novel which critics would later deem the first

of the “fantastic trilogy,” Torrente Fernández observes a strong presence of historical

elements. In conclusion, she comments that:

Gonzalo Torrente Ballester nos ofrece en La muerte del Decano reflexiones sobre el conocimiento histórico, método y resultados, aparte de

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

la posibilidad de inserción de la historia en la novela mediante imágenes, siendo La saga/ fuga de J.B. una excelente muestra de lo último, ya que en ella se incluyen múltiples aspectos de la historia de los ámbitos galaico y occidental en general. (110)

Ángel Basanta discusses Torrente’s novels written after the “fantastic trilogy” and

up to Las islas extraordinarias in his article entitled “Gonzalo Torrente Ballester en los

80: últimas novelas del autor.”41 Basanta briefly mentions important works by Torrente,

and corresponding awards bestowed upon him, including the publication of the “fantastic

trilogy,” the adaptation of Los gozos y las sombras for television, and the Cervantes

Prize. He then offers a succinct explanation of how the works published after the

“fantastic trilogy” fit into the entire body of Torrente’s literary work, which Basanta

divides into three phases. For Basanta, the first phase consists of the works leading up to

the “fantastic trilogy,” the second phase comprises solely the “fantastic trilogy,” and the

third phase includes works which appeared after the “fantastic trilogy” (112-115).

Basanta signals the second phase of Torrente’s writing as the “culminación del arte de

Torrente Ballester, [en que] confluyen unidos los tres pilares básicos de su literatura: la

historia, el mito y la creación literaria misma” (114).

Deeming Dafne y ensueños as the best-written of Torrente’s post-“fantastic

trilogy” works (116), Basanta states:

Por mi cuenta añadiré que este indisoluble dualismo de realidad y fantasía, que caracteriza la obra de Torrente Ballester, vuelve a aglutinar aquí los pilares básicos de su literatura. La tergiversación de la historia aflora en la nueva estrategia para vencer en Trafalgar. La manipulación del mito reaparece en la aventura infernal de Orfeo para rescatar a Eurídice, modelo compositivo sobre el que se completa la proeza del protagonista encaminada al rescate de Dafne. Y las consideraciones metaliterarias se proyectan aquí sobre lecturas, invenciones y otras obras del autor que han recreado personajes y episodios de aquella época. (116)

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Once more, major critics coincide in their perceptions of the central dualisms in

Torrente’s literature.

Basanta presents his conclusions early in his article, indicating in the second of seventeen pages that:

Hay que reconocer que estas obras poco añaden a la trayectoria novelística de quien tan elevadas cumbres había escalado antes. Pero también es igualmente cierto que estas novelas, tal vez concebidas sin la ambición de sus hermanas mayores, en su mayoría están desarrolladas con la bien probada maestría narrativa de quien ya se siente absolutamente seguro y dueño de su oficio. (112)

Thus, although Basanta might not regard Torrente’s works of the 1980s to be his most significant, he nevertheless agrees that they merit critical attention. By beginning his article with a list of awards won by Torrente since the publication of the “fantastic trilogy,” Basanta demonstrates that Torrente, already considered a leading literary figure in Twentieth Century Spain, was finally free to write what he wanted to write during and after the 1980s, free from censorial pressure or having to prove himself to anyone. Thus, in his conclusion Basanta states:

Porque este hábil manipulador de los mitos y de la historia, ducho en el empleo de procedimientos del relato oral, maestro en la creación de humor, dueño de una extraordinaria ductilidad narrativa y con capacidad para ironizar sobre cualquier asunto, es hoy el novelista que mejor ha comprendido la herencia de Cervantes. (127)

Carmen Becerra discusses Torrente’s contribution to the Don Juan myth in her essay, “Contribución al estudio del significado de Don Juan en la versión de Torrente

Ballester.”42 Becerra reviews the intertextuality which has increased with the publication of each major version of Don Juan, including those by Zorrilla, Unamuno, Grau, and

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 others, leading up to Torrente’s version. Becerra states: “Es cierto que todas y cada una de las versiones de Don Juan poseen entre sí un significado común: el significado mítico; o lo que es lo mismo, la existencia en su interior de un esquema semántico vertebrador”

(130). However, Becerra also argues that the different versions become like branches of the same mythical tree, each one of them receiving a slightly different treatment according to the societal and/ or literary norms during which it was published, or because they are missing one of three principal elements: “el amor, las mujeres, y la muerte”

(130). By identifying these elements common to the original Don Juan myth Becerra can compare and contrast the different versions before she discusses Torrente’s. This critic also cites Northrop Frye,43 who remarked “a medida que se desarrolla una cultura, su

mitología tiende a hacerse enciclopédica, a ampliarse en un mito total. Un mito

completamente desarrollado o encilopédico, encierra todo el conocimiento que es de

mayor incumbencia para su sociedad” (131). Becerra relates Frye’s comment to the

various versions of Don Juan which have appeared over the centuries, commenting that

Twentieth Century interpretations of the myth are vastly different from earlier versions

dating from the Seventeenth Century.

Becerra next proceeds to analyze Torrente’s contribution to the Don Juan myth,

affirming that “La versión torrentina posee todos los elementos necesarios e

imprescindibles para elevar de nuevo al personaje a su condición mítica, porque en ella

hallamos los tres rasgos que caracterizan al mito de Don Juan: a) la presencia de la pareja

amor/ muerte, b) las mujeres; y c) el héroe y su capacidad de seducción” (133). This

critic also cites Jean Rousset’s observation44 that “Don Juan no sería Don Juan si sus

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 relaciones amorosas (y para ello requiere, indispensablemente, a las mujeres) no le condujesen a su trágico final” (133). Thus, Becerra cites theme and variations in

Torrente’s version of the Don Juan myth, to show how the Galician author has succeeded in updating the myth while remaining faithful to central elements of the myth itself.

Likewise discussed is Don Juan’s role as hero/ protagonist, as well as his powers of seduction in Torrente’s version of the myth. Becerra states that “La capacidad de seducción ha sido utilizada por muchos autores para trivializar al mito, cuando se ha visto en él sólo su aspecto físico, sus dotes de conquista; una especie de ideal masculino que, bien por su fortuna, su habilidad técnica o su belleza física, embauca a las mujeres”

(140). She then contrasts this tradition with Torrente’s treatment of the title character:

“En el Don Juan de Torrente, el héroe está dotado de una capacidad de seducción de la que él mismo no es consciente […]. Serán sus primeros contactos con las mujeres, tras su llegada a Sevilla para los funerales de su padre, los que le quiten la venda de los ojos, los que le desvelarán su increíble fuerza fascinadora” (141).

Becerra also focuses on psychological aspects of the Don Juan myth, emphasizing that:

Según nuestro criterio, lo que debe quedar claro es que el psicoanálisis es un interesante método de trabajo que puede tener aplicaciones, más o menos felices, a la literatura en general, y en concreto a las obras literarias, siempre que se le considere como posibilidad de análisis y explicación de determinados aspectos, pero no de otros. (144)

Becerra offers attention to Freud’s question of whether Don Juan suffers from an Oedipus complex, citing J. Rof Carballo: “El psiconoanalista que cree esclarecer un poema hablando por ejemplo de ‘complejo de Edipo,’ ignora que en ese mismo momento, sobre

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 todo si la obra es de egregia categoría estética, el interpretador ha quedado ciego, obtuso, para el resto de las iluminaciones que se encierran en aquellos versos o en aquel drama”

(144). Therefore, Becerra illustrates that inappropriate application of the Oedipus complex to a reading of the Don Juan myth would detract from any further study of the title character, or the variation of the myth analyzed, explaining further:

Torrente no sólo se limita a negar la existencia de tal complejo [de Edipo], sino que, además, elabora el personaje con los rasgos necesarios para que no pueda darse ningún tipo de ambigüedad al respecto […]. También el Don Juan de Torrente carece de madre pero, aquí, se habla explícitamente de su muerte: “Mi madre, doña Mencía Ossorio, murió al parirme” (P. 145).45 La consecuencia parece obvia: si Don Juan no ha conocido a su madre, resulta imposible que en algún momento de su infancia centrase, inconscientemente, su atención sexual sobre ella, y, por ende, nunca pudo padecer complejo de Edipo. (145-146)

This critic concludes that Don Juan’s situation, as orphan, in Torrente’s version of the myth as well as earlier versions, further clarifies how Freud’s Oedipus complex should not be applied to the character, adding that “Nosotros intentamos demostrar que en la

versión de Torrente carece de justificación tal atribución: estamos en presencia de un

mito y, como tal, no pueden adjudicársele patologías o problemas que sólo a los hombres

afectan” (161).

Becerra concludes her article by examining Torrente’s concept of love as applied

to the Don Juan myth, analyzing the insertion of lyrical text in Torrente’s novel

pertaining to the original couple of the Bible, Adam and Eve: “El contenido del poema de

Adam y Eva posee claras implicaciones teológicas que dotan al personaje y a la novela de

un significado teológico; el cual, para algunos críticos, es el fundamento sobre el que

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 descansa el sentido de la obra de Torrente” (158). This inclusion of Adam and Eve leads

Becerra to state:

En nuestra opinión, esta novela, a la vez que desarrolla una ficción, contiene complejas referencias a la cultura de la época a la que la trama subordinada se remite; por tanto, si desconocemos ésta, el mensaje, en ese nivel, se hace ininteligible, se pierde y no llega al lector […]. Torrente Ballester reanima en su versión esa médula originaria de Don Juan y lo transporta al siglo XX, recreando al personaje y ofreciéndonos originales respuestas a las preguntas que ha arrastrado durante siglos. El contenido del poema del pecado de Adam y Eva es buena parte de ello […]. Don Juan, al no vincularse con los demás, ha perdido al prójimo y a sí mismo; por ello su soledad es absoluta. Asistimos, así, a la soledad del pecador a quien sólo le queda su propia realidad y su propio infierno. (159)

Becerra thus explains how the Galician novelist ties in the biblical tale of original sin to the sins of love committed by Don Juan, particularly in the context of Torrente’s novel.

For Becerra, “la concepción del amor” (161)46 is essential to the understanding of the

Don Juan myth; furthermore, “El tratamiento de este tema no sólo proporciona a esta

versión una clara apoyatura teológica, sino que además liga a este Don Juan con las

versiones míticas medulares y la fundacional del polémico y fascinante siglo XVII

español” (161).

French Hispanist Eliane Lavaud takes an innovative approach to a collection of

essays on literary creation by Torrente: she discusses “la crítica genética,” described as

criticism tied to the genesis of a literary work, explaining that “la crítica genética” entails

“examinar y analizar todo lo anterior a la primera publicación en prensa o en librería,

quiero hablar de los apuntes, cuadernos y manuscritos” (164).47 Explained further, “La crítica genética renueva, pues, la concepción misma del texto literario. Ya no sólo interesa la forma acabada de la obra maestra sino también la dimensión dinámica de su

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 propia elaboración, como producto de un trabajo de escritura y reescritura cuya meta es poner en forma un proyecto textual” (165). Lavaud’s application of this type of scholarly investigation traces the evolution which took Torrente’s Don Juan from manuscript to published novel.

Lavaud notes numerous examples of different manuscripts submitted to various publishers, then Francoist censors, for approval, and notes the often vast changes indicated (primarily by the latter) required as necessary for Torrente’s highly-studied novel to be published. By citing text contained in the original manuscript, but which was not included in the first printing of Torrente’s novel, Lavaud reveals how the meaning of the novel changed before it arrived at bookstores, citing specific passages, including

entire chapters, which censors doomed to exclusion. The French critic explains that

“podemos ver que la censura tachó en total unos 17 folios de los 206 que contiene el

manuscrito. Pero, más allá de la cantidad matemática de las tachaduras, que llegan a un

12% del libro, hay que darse cuenta de que la obra no sólo estaba mutilada, sino que

estaba literalmente fusilada, sin sentido ya e imposible de publicar” (172).

Lavaud states that “El mito se puede interpretar como un recorrido del

conocimiento. Ahora bien, para que se mantenga vivo el mito, lo que, a través de él, se

cree no tiene que transformarse en algo que se sabe. El saber definitivo mata el mito”

(172). She concludes by noting that three highly significant lines of text are missing from

the ending of Torrente’s novel: “Sonja no era una actriz, sino una chica que me había

desdeñado. Y, don Juan y Leporello, ¿Quiénes eran? Volví a preguntármelo mientras el

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 tren se metía en las sombras; y las sombras no me dieron respuesta” (173). Lavaud explains, in conclusion:

Estas frases, que ya aportaban un saber sobre Sonja y que dejaban bien claro que a propósito de los dos hombres se sabía que no se sabía, estaban de más. Por su sola presencia amenazaban de muerte al mito. Y su desaparición es, para mí, una confirmación más de la sutileza y la calidad de esta versión del mito donjuanesco en pleno siglo XX. (173)

Lavaud demonstrates that the exclusion of text from manuscript to published novel was not wholly attributed to the censorship. Thus, she admits that “la crítica genética” also allows for an appreciation of the author’s addition or omission of text, and how authorial emendations contribute to a broader appreciation of the published work. In this final example, Lavaud deems Torrente’s omission of text to have been beneficial to maintaining the air of mystique required by the Don Juan myth. Thus, according to

Lavaud, the final version of the novel benefits from the cut made by Torrente.

José A. Ponte Far, also part of the Vigo group of Torrente scholars, discusses the influence of Galicia on Torrente’s work in “Galicia en los cuadernos de trabajo de

Torrente Ballester.”48 Ponte Far, by means of introducing the importance of Galicia in

Torrente’s work, briefly mentions the parts of his life which Torrente spent in Galicia.

Ponte Far also discusses the time Torrente spent in New York, and how this time yielded two of Torrente’s most influential works, La saga/ fuga de J.B. and Fragmentos de

Apocalipsis. Citing Torrente’s “morriña” for his native Galicia, Ponte Far asserts that:

esto es lo que explica que sea en tierras americanas donde aborda la redacción de una novela profundamente gallega, a la que bautiza como Campana y piedra, tan ambiciosa y abundante que será el germen de nada menos que de dos: La saga/ fuga de J.B. y Fragmentos de Apocalipsis. Estamos viendo, pues, cómo Torrente, aun estando fuera de Galicia y fuera de España, sentimental y literariamente no sólo no pierde, sino que

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

intensifica, su relación con todo lo que es y significa para él esta tierra. (178)

This argument that Torrente could “write Galicia” while somewhere else, whether in other areas of Spain or (in the previous example) on another continent, becomes important for the rest of Ponte Far’s argument. Ponte Far maintains that Galicia had such a profound effect on Torrente, dating from the early years of his life, that it was always a part of him, no matter where he lived during his life. Using quotations from Torrente’s cuadernos de trabajo (Cuadernos de la Romana, Nuevos cuadernos de la Romana, and

Los cuadernos de un vate vago), Ponte Far illustrates that “la relación de Torrente con

Galicia fue muy prolongada en el tiempo, muy intensa en sus ausencias de esta tierra, y

muy sentida y querida siempre” (179).

La creación literaria de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester includes El pavoroso caso del

Señor Cualquiera,49 a farce written by Torrente before the beginning of the Spanish Civil

War and reprinted for the first time in La creación literaria. Ángel Abuín, one of the

contributors and editors of the collection, indicates influences apparent in the work,

including those of Heidegger, Ortega, Cervantes, Calderón, Valle-Inclán, and Pirandello.

Abuín also mentions an article by the Galician scholar Luis Iglesias Feijoo, published in

1986, which analyzes Torrente’s theatre and calls for the publication of El pavoroso caso

(193).

Carmen Becerra concludes La creación literaria with a substantial bibliography by

and about Torrente, not only works published by Torrente (including narrative, theatre,

essay, entries in periodicals, prologues to his and other authors’ works), but also scholarly

books, articles, book reviews, theses, and dissertations by other authors as well. Becerra

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 identifies other bibliographies from which she incorporated references in order to complete the present one (243). Totaling 29 pages, Becerra’s listing provides invaluable bibliographic information to the student or scholar who wishes to discover more completely Torrente’s works, and works focusing on him, to continue investigating at a more detailed and thorough level.

Janet Pérez’s “As novelas ‘menores’ de Torrente á luz do Neohistoricismo”50 is

one of the most informative sources for the present study, as it not only discusses most of

the works to be analyzed shortly, but also does so by making use of theories of the New

Historicism, also to be utilized. At the time of the article’s publication—near the end of

Torrente’s life—Pérez reaffirms the fact that “as obras de Torrente a partir da chamada

triloxía [fantástica] atraeron a relativamente poucos estudiosos” (43). Pérez asserts that

while Torrente’s later works have not yet received sufficient critical analysis,

nevertheless “verase que todas estas obras se sitúan nun continuo historia-ficción, que

reflicten certas teorías en canto a un ou ámbolos ditos xéneros, e que o percorrido do

escritor non é unha liña recta, senón a figura trazada polo que anda e des-anda

repetidamente o mesmo camiño” (44).

Just as Pérez insisted in “Sátiras del poder en la narrativa de Torrente” (in

Creación literaria) that “Un estudio completo del tema del poder en Torrente tendría que ser mucho más extenso” (96), here she provides a solid argument that Torrente’s latter novels need much more attention than they had received at the time of the publication of

“As novelas ‘menores.’” Power and history go hand in hand, for those who win the war

write the history books in accordance with their ideology and idiosyncratic perspective of

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 the historical events in question (i.e., the winners [of wars] write the history books).

Based on the earlier argument, “As novelas ‘menores’” serves as an insightful introduction and/or overview to the application of the theories of New Historicism to

Torrente’s later works. It also advocates a more extensive, in-depth analysis of the post-

“fantastic trilogy” works in light of this theoretical trend—precisely the kind of analysis the present study proposes to do in greater depth and detail.

José Paulino and Carmen Becerra offer a volume of the collection Compás de

Letras, dedicated to Torrente shortly after his death.51 The collection includes essays by

notable critics including Víctor García de la Concha, Ángel Basanta, Antonio J. Gil

González, as well as Eliane Lavaud and Claude Bleton, two of the principal French

translators of Torrente’s literature. The essays treat various themes present in Torrente’s

literature.

Janet Pérez visits themes of writers and writing in her article on Los años

indecisos.52 Pérez discusses other literary works published by Torrente featuring writer

protagonists before focusing on the final novel the Galician published before his death.

This critic also notes Torrente’s fascination with literary theory and narrative perspective,

pointing out that the introduction to Los años indecisos leaves open the possibility that

the first-person narrator is not, in fact, the one who has written the account. The narrator

of the novel proper then makes statements which lead the reader to doubt his reliability as

a narrator, another recurring characteristic in Torrente’s novels. Pérez mentions other

Torrente novels, particularly Quizá nos lleve el viento al infinito and Yo no soy yo,

evidentemente, in which these things can also be found, and indicates that these and other

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 questions of identity can be found in much of Torrente’s literary work, although their treatment reaches its maturity following the publication of Torrente’s seminal essay, El

Quijote como juego (1975).

Antonio Jesús Gil González contributes to Torrente studies with his book, Relatos

de poética: Para una poética del relato de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester,53 which expands

upon his doctoral thesis written at the University of Salamanca. A prologue written by

Carmen Becerra precedes Relatos de poética, in which the distinguished Torrente critic states that:

El trabajo del profesor Antonio J. Gil González no es, como pronto se comprueba, el resultado de un primer acercamiento al tema, sino que, por el contrario, constituye el fruto de un largo proceso de reflexión, análisis y sistematización de las teorías que, en el discurso de la Posmodernidad (es decir, la concepción y la ostentación del arte como una actividad autoconsciente), se denominaron con el término general de metaficción, tan intensa particularmente en la obra de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester. (14- 15)

Relatos de poética centers its critical attention on Torrente’s “fantastic trilogy,” and

analyzes characteristics of metafiction present in them. Gil González concludes his work

by mentioning other works of Torrente’s with similar elements, from Javier Mariño to Yo

no soy yo, evidentemente.

In El realismo mágico en la perspectiva europea. El caso de Gonzalo Torrente

Ballester,54 Wojciech Charchalis alleges the presence of magical realism in various

works of Torrente. Charchalis divides the book into three main sections: “Etapa

prefantástica” (Ifigenia and Don Juan), “Etapa fantástica” (La saga/fuga de J.B. and La

isla de los jacintos cortados), and “Etapa postfantástica” (Quizá nos lleve el viento al

infinito and Crónica del rey pasmado). Thus, the only work analyzed in El realismo

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 mágico en la perspectiva europea which is also of interest in the present study is Crónica

del rey pasmado. It is with the two novels analyzed as “época postfantástica” that

Charchalis maintains Torrente “consiguió crear una rígida interrelación entre lo real y lo

fantástico, creando un nuevo valor, una nueva poética, comparable con el realismo

mágico de los maestros latinoamericanos” (104), suggesting the “época postfantástica” likewise be referred to as “época mágicorrealista” (104). Charchalis notes that the

“escacez [sic] de lo sobrenatural y su importancia primordial forman el rasgo característico para la etapa postfantástica en la creación literaria de GTB” (104), as well as “la estructura lineal y la escasez de tramas secundarias” (108). Likewise, Charchalis discerns “un cierto rechazo de temas ‘difíciles,’ perdiendo el autor ferrolano su intelectualismo” (109) in Torrente’s final works beginning with Dafne y ensueños.

In the case of Crónica del rey pasmado, Charchalis determines there to be an

absolute minimum of fantastic elements, only those sufficient to move the plot of the

novel forward (110). The two elements highlighted in Charchalis’s study are the opening

scene of the novel, as well as two of its characters. The opening contains a description of

what might be an earthquake, during which a subterranean pocket of sulfurous gases is

released; though gossip and an inclination toward superstition depicts it as the appearance

of a giant snake, accompanied by fire and brimstone. The two characters Charchalis

mentions are the Conde de la Peña Andrada and Padre Almeida. Charchalis cites

instances in the text during which one or both of these characters are involved in

mysterious occurrences, such as papers which appear in a drawer seemingly by magic, or

how the Conde does not sweat at times that others suffer from elevated heat, or appears to

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 exit from a room miraculously by walking through a wall (110-111). Whereas other characters of Crónica question whether one or both the Conde de la Peña Andrada and

Padre Almeida are demons, Charchalis cites Crónica to suggest they are angels (111).55

Carmen Becerra’s La historia en la ficción: La narrativa de Gonzalo Torrente

Ballester56 provides a brief, yet valuable overview of the connection between history and

fiction in Torrente’s literary works. Becerra includes bio-bibliographic information for

Torrente, as well as important historical/ political events and artistic/ cultural events

which occurred during Torrente’s lifetime. In the introduction to the analysis section of

La historia en la ficción, Becerra states that:

Me interesa en este momento centrar el estudio en la presencia y las distintas funciones que la Historia posee en las novelas de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester. […] Me sitúo en la posición de aquellos que consideran que toda ficción es historia, un tipo particular de historia, pero historia al fin y al cabo; pero además, en el caso del autor que ahora nos ocupa, es evidente la relevancia que posee este tema en la totalidad de sus obras. (32)

Becerra further asserts that “la utilización y la manipulación de ese tema [la historia] es

una constante desde las primeras hasta las últimas de sus obras” (35), and that “Torrente

manipula la historia en sus novelas, sean estas etiquetadas como realistas o como

fantásticas” (37). Becerra provides excerpts from the novels as she discusses how history

is interlaced in various ways into Torrente’s works (principally divided into two

subgroups: “la historia en la ficción” and “la ficción de la historia”).

Becerra proposes four classifications of history in the novels of Torrente: “1. La

Historia como escenografía. 2. La Historia como reinvención. 3. La Historia como eje temático. 4. La Historia como crónica” (40). Becerra cites Los gozos y las sombras as an

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 example of the first classification, briefly offering the reader an overview of the principal characters of the trilogy and their (in)actions as a way of illustrating the realist manner in which Torrente wrote these novels. Yet Becerra determines this method of representing history as the least successful of Torrente’s literary tactics: “la contemplación global de su obra revela que este tratamiento de la historia es el menos frecuente y podría añadir también, aunque con matices, que el menos interesante” (43).

Acknowledging “la totalidad de la crítica,” Becerra affirms that “Torrente es un escritor de estirpe clara y confesadamente cervantina, y lo es por el frecuente empleo de las técnicas utilizadas por el autor del Quijote” (43). This brings Becerra to the second

classification, “La Historia como reinvención.” Becerra states that the works of the

“fantastic trilogy” serve as the best examples (though certainly not the only ones) of this

classification:

Torrente reinventa la historia empleando fundamentalmente dos procedimientos: la fusión, confusión y mezcla de lo histórico y lo legendario, la utilización como material histórico de lo mítico, y la transformación del material histórico por medio de la imaginación, la ironía y el humor. (44)

One notable example of the transformation of historical information by means of large

doses of imagination detailed by Becerra is the scene in La isla de los jacintos cortados

during which it is explained that Napoleon Bonaparte was invented by Metternich,

Nelson, and Chateaubriand. As Becerra explains in the accompanying excerpt from La

isla, this scene also serves as a parody on the creation of myths of power.

Becerra’s third classification, “La Historia como eje temático,” occurs in theatre

works such as Lope de Aguirre and Atardecer en Longwood, as well as in one of the

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 novels to be analyzed in the present study, Crónica del rey pasmado (52). Becerra

disagrees with critics such as Colin Smith, who choose not to view Crónica as a historical

novel.57 Becerra states that Smith’s affirmation illustrates a narrow definition of the

“historical novel.” Though what occurs in Crónica is not historically accurate, Becerra explains that it nevertheless illustrates attitudes and superstitions commonly held by

people in Spain during the time period depicted in the novel (53).

Becerra applies her fourth classification of history in fiction in Torrente’s

literature, “La Historia como crónica,” to other novels to be discussed in the current

study. According to Becerra:

En los últimos años las novelas de Torrente se internan de nuevo por los caminos del realismo. Con pequeñas concesiones a la imaginación y al humor, sus personajes se mueven en espacios conocidos y en ambientes realistas. La historia en estas novelas vuelve a conformar un telón de fondo, un escenario sobre el que se proyectan las vidas de hombres y mujeres sin esperanza; pero, a diferencia del tratamiento dado en la trilogía realista, ahora el personaje-narrador se erige en una especia [sic] de cronista de una determinada época. Su actividad vital sirve para realizar uno a modo de inventario de sucesos, que se narran desde fuera, como si de un observador se tratase. (55)

Becerra then focuses on Filomeno, a mi pesar, to illustrate this final classification. The

narrator, “un periodista, cronista de guerra, a quien el autor ha cedido una parte de sus

vivencias personales, contempla y describe los acontecimientos históricos que presencia,

con la frialdad de un observador, con la mente de un cronista” (55).

Becerra concludes La historia en la ficción by stating that Torrente’s literature can

be divided into two phases: “la primera, que podría calificarse como esperanza escéptica,

culmina con la escritura de La princesa durmiente va a la escuela, en 1951 [...]. En la

segunda fase—de descreimiento total—el autor centra su escritura sobre todo en la

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 creación de personajes que protagonizan su propia historia, y a los que la Historia, con mayúsculas, no les tiene reservado ningún espacio” (56). Regardless of the treatment,

Becerra maintains that history is an important theme throughout Torrente’s literature, from earliest to latest: “La utilización de materiales históricos no se detiene en las novelas de la llamada trilogía fantástica. Una y otra vez Torrente sigue echando mano de este tema, con nuevas fórmulas, atendiendo a diferentes aspectos” (51).

Similarly, Carmen Becerra offers a short study devoted to one of the “géneros populares” found in Torrente’s literature: specifically, detective fiction.58 Becerra

discusses the role of postmodernism on Torrente’s literary works, then cites examples of

detective fiction by Torrente: more concretely, Quizá nos lleve el viento al infinito and

La muerte del Decano. She then gives a concise overview of the genre of detective fiction, citing not only Spanish authors and critics, but also British and American authors such as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Edgar Allan Poe, respectively. She then analyzes the two aforementioned works by Torrente, focusing more attention on Quizá nos lleve el

viento al infinito because of its “indiscutible mayor complejidad, diría incluso calidad e interés, aunque también por razones que atañen al espacio del que dispongo” (19).

Finally, Carmen Becerra and Emilie Guyard have provided a collection of essays

which explore various themes of identity in Torrente’s publications.59 According to the

editors: “Entre los elementos característicos de la obra de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester

aparece un juego constante respecto a la identidad (11). During the six decades in which

Torrente was publishing, the editors state that:

el hombre busca unos puntos de referencia y apoyo que se le escapan, en el que las referencias definitorias e integrantes de la identidad no son sino

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

un intercambio perpetuo, una mutación casi biológica: los signos no remiten más que a otros signos en un flujo de nunca acabar. Se intenta saber si en esa circunstancia específica la obra de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester puede seguir afirmando el sentido de una identidad histórica, sociológica, filosófica, ética…, o si, al contrario, su obra constituye la representación de una constante alteridad/ alteración que traduce una profunda inquietud filosófica respecto al Ser [. . .]. ¿Las estrategias de escritura de Torrente Ballester abren paso a una nueva representación del mundo, a una visión individual, generacional o a un mero juego literario? (12)

The essays explore questions of identity in Torrente’s works of theatre and narrative as well as his criticism.

La Tabla Redonda

For the past eight years, Torrente studies have received a major stimulus and expansion in the form of La Tabla Redonda, the only journal dedicated exclusively to the

study of Torrente, his life and his literary works. In the words of founding Editor Carmen

Becerra, La Tabla Redonda:

nace con la intención de crear un lugar de encuentro para aquellos investigadores que, interesados por Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, su obra y su tiempo, no disponían hasta el momento de un “lugar” idóneo en el que exponer el resultado de sus reflexiones, de sus análisis o de sus propuestas sobre este autor; el cual, siendo uno de los autores fundamentales de la literatura española del siglo XX, no ha sido, sin embargo, atendido como debiera, e incluso a veces obviado, por la crítica académica. (1)

Therefore, La Tabla Redonda constitutes a joint effort by Torrente scholars in three of the

main universities in Galicia—Universidad de Santiago de Compostela (Antonio J. Gil

González), UNED, A Coruña (José Antonio Ponte Far), and Universidad de Vigo

(Carmen Becerra). Various doctoral students of Carmen Becerra have continued studies

of Torrente after becoming professors at other universities in Galicia and elsewhere in

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Spain, helping to form a network of Torrente scholars. The first number of La Tabla

Redonda (2003) comprises the proceedings of a conference which sought to commemorate the thirtieth anniversary of the publication of La saga/fuga de J.B. It is also the first significant conference to take place after Torrente’s death. In the first issue of La Tabla Redonda are contained not only presentations given—some of them

expanded and/or edited for publication, and others merely transcriptions of said

presentations—as well as a round-table discussion of Torrente’s impact on the larger

context of contemporary Spanish literature. The participants in this round-table included

Torrente’s fellow novelists, José Saramago, Alfredo Conde, Víctor Freixanes, Manuel

Rivas, and José María Merino.

José Saramago speaks fondly of his memories of Torrente, admitting that “Yo no

he conocido íntimamente a Gonzalo, aunque me gustaría que la realidad fuera otra” (6).

Saramago then focuses on La saga/ fuga, recalling how he was asked to write a prologue

to the French translation of what some consider to be Torrente’s magnum opus.

Saramago recounts that, in the aforementioned introduction, he stated that “había hasta

ahora una silla vacía a la derecha de Miguel de Cervantes, y que acababa de ser ocupada

por Gonzalo Torrente Ballester que había escrito La saga/ fuga de J.B.” (9). Saramago

explains this assertion: “La saga/ fuga de J.B. es un libro que, al contrario de lo que

ocurrió con el Quijote, que tuvo un reconocimiento en toda Europa, se puede decir,

inmediatamente, aún está esperando que en España y en los países de lengua castellana se

descubra” (9). In other words, Saramago continues, “el reconocimiento de la importancia

de ese libro todavía no es lo que debería ser” (9).

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Saramago suggests that La saga/ fuga has not found a sufficient amount of recognition because it is a work without precedents, much like Cervantes’s Don Quijote and Portuguese writer Luís Vaz de Camões’s Os Lusíadas were when they were published. Saramago likens La saga/ fuga to a mountain, upon which many gaze but few dare to climb (10). Alternatively, La saga/ fuga is a novel whose existence is noted by many more than those who have actually read it. According to Saramago:

La saga/ fuga es un libro—que no está escrito en gallego, pero quizás sea la más gallega de todas las novelas que se han escrito sobre Galicia—que no es sólo expresión de la vida en una ciudad que tendría que responder a lo que fuese reconocible como gallego; es mucho más que eso, porque de lo que Torrente se alimenta es de las raíces más profundas de lo que yo llamaría (sin ninguna pretensión de independentismo, o algo que se pueda asemejar a eso) galleguidad. Es decir, es lo esencial, lo que hay más genuino y más profundo…, y eso ha creado esa especie de fatalidad de quedarse no sólo como algo intraspasable, no sólo como algo inimitable, sino como algo que, a lo mejor, estará condenado a la soledad de la grandeza absoluta, si podemos saber lo que eso significa. Pero igual que todas las cosas solas se pueden acompañar, todas las cosas absolutas se pueden volver relativas… Pues bien, ahora, aquí, el acompañar, el relativizar reside en el nuevo descubrimiento que La saga/ fuga necesita, o que nosotros necesitamos hacer de La saga/ fuga. (11)

Saramago further indicates that La saga/ fuga is “evidentemente uno de los grandes momentos de la vida literaria y personal de Torrente” (11). However, he notes that the enormous popularity of the miniseries adaptation of Los gozos y las sombras is “una popularidad que La saga/ fuga no ha podido tener” (12).

La Tabla Redonda 2 (2004), subtitled “A propósito de Villasanta de la Estrella,” focuses on the prominence of Santiago de Compostela in Torrente’s literature. In her introduction to the second number, Editor Carmen Becerra states:

A nadie que conozca la trayectoria biográfica de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester extrañará que algunas de sus narraciones remitan a un espacio

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

extratextual llamado Santiago de Compostela. Si algunas ciudades marcaron de forma indeleble el espíritu de Torrente, una de ellas, y no la de menor importancia, fue Santiago. (Tabla Redonda 2, i)

Becerra further stipulates that Santiago plays a prominent role in the following works:

Fragmentos de Apocalipsis, La muerte del Decano, Compostela y su ángel, and Santiago

de Rosalía de Castro. Apuntes sobre la vida en Compostela en tiempos de Rosalía de

Castro. Becerra further explains that, as La Tabla Redonda 1 focused principally on La

saga/ fuga de J.B., the articles found in La Tabla Redonda 2 focus on Fragmentos de

Apocalipsis (ii). She further notes that the third volume of the journal will focus on the last component of the so-called “fantastic trilogy,” La isla de los jacintos cortados (iv).

As occurred in La Tabla Redonda 1, La Tabla Redonda 2 contains discourses by

other writers who knew Torrente, including fellow Galician writers Alfredo Conde and

Germán Sierra (Generación Nocilla/ Afterpop). Both writers studied in Santiago de

Compostela, thus each offers a unique set of experiences of the city as he considers its treatment in Torrente’s literary works.

José Colmeiro offers his detective fiction expertise in his analysis of La muerte

del Decano. In “Historia y metaficción en La muerte del Decano de Torrente Ballester:

Crónica postmoderna de una muerte anunciada,”60 Colmeiro explains that not only is La

muerte a postmodern interpretation of the detective novel, but that it also is a “novela de

campus” (139), meaning that the majority of the action in the novel takes place at a

university. Colmeiro adds that, “De hecho La muerte del Decano es una de las primeras

novelas de campus españolas propiamente, y seguramente es la primera novela policíaca

de campus española” (139). Colmeiro’s finds parallels between the background

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 described in La muerte and the fog described in Unamuno’s Niebla: “el paisaje gallego

utilizado por Torrente en la novela, junto con el escenario claroscuro de los claustros y la

continua penumbra nocturna, tienen la misma función transcendente que la niebla

existencial en la novela del mismo nombre de Unamuno” (141). Colmeiro notes other

parallels between Torrente’s novel and that of Unamuno: particularly (as has not gone unnoticed by a number of other critics), the ambiguous manner in which the Dean dies in

La muerte, leaving other characters unable to determine the true cause of his death.

Colmeiro does make an interesting observation when considering the possible guilt of the

assistant professor don Enrique, the prime suspect in the Dean’s death:

Igualmente, por medio de la figura del Decano la novela deconstruye irónicamente el concepto de la autoridad del autor así como el sistema de oposiciones académicas, parte fundamental del sistema universitario español, sujeto a guerras de poder, rivalidades, influencias y una crónica endogamia. La relación Decano-discípulo se presenta como una ecuación de poder y saber del orden foucaltiano [sic]. Su emasculado discípulo Enrique tiene saber pero no tiene poder, porque “le falta obra” (29), o lo que es lo mismo, no tiene falo. Pero el contrario, el Decano, tiene el poder, la obra y el falo, pero parece que sus ideas se han agotado y ya no tiene nada nuevo que aportar al campo del saber. (143-144)

Colmeiro’s linking of the Dean’s possessing both power at the university and power over don Enrique seems to be without precedent among critical interpretations of La muerte,

but it is noteworthy for other reasons as well. Colmeiro explains that “la compleja

relación entre el maestro y el discípulo, de naturaleza básicamente paternalista e

insidiosa, se revela como una ambigua y contradictoria realidad insoluble, que se

proyecta en la novela sobre la relación creador-creación y autor-personaje-lector” (144).

Thus, Colmeiro illustrates another parallelism between La muerte and Niebla: the

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 struggle between creator and creation (the Dean and don Enrique, as opposed to

Unamuno and Augusto Pérez).

In La muerte, Colmeiro determines the Dean to be an:

autor tramposo a apócrifo [… que] se convierte en el cronista de su propia muerte anunciada […] y además actúa como el autor de una narrativa policíaca que escribe colocando pistas falsas, implicando a sospechosos y adelantándose a las investigaciones policiales, pero negándose a resolver el misterio finalmente. De esta manera su actuación es un desafío a los otros personajes que se verán implicados, y en última instancia un desafío al propio lector, proponiéndole un problema sin posible solución. Para el lector, la autoría del libro de historia, como la autoría del crimen, quedará siempre en la duda, en media penumbra. (145)

Colmeiro concludes that La muerte is “una profunda desconfianza en los mecanismos de

los historiadores” (146), and that the events of the novel should represent “el fin de la

Historia como certeza absoluta e incontestable” (149).

La Tabla Redonda 3 (2005), subtitled “Sobre ínsulas y caballeros,” focuses

largely on La isla de los jacintos cortados and El Quijote como juego. La Tabla Redonda

4 (2006), on the other hand, explores some of the autobiographical aspects of Torrente’s literature. As guest editor Ángel Loureiro comments in the foreword, it is:

difícil pensar en otro escritor en cuya obra y peripecia vital los espacios en los que vivió hayan tenido un papel tan crucial como lo hacen en la vida y la obra de Torrente Ballester [. . .]. No sorprende, por eso, que esos lugares aparezcan continuamente como referencia indispensable no sólo en sus obras autobiográficas (como sería esperable), sino también en sus novelas. En Torrente Ballester, los lugares en los que el escritor vivió y las experiencias asociadas con ellos sirven de disparadero continuo para la creación. (i)

Carmen Becerra’s contribution explores the reality/ fiction in the final novel published during Torrente’s life, Los años indecisos.61 Becerra examines parallels between the

protagonists of Los años and Javier Mariño, referring to the hybrid term of “autoficción”

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 coined by Alicia Molero62 as she discusses Los años. Becerra cites Molero’s definition

of “autoficción” as follows:

“lo que llamamos autoficción responde a un nuevo modelo de la escritura autobiográfica—como pretenden ciertos autores y críticos y, sin embargo, desmienten numerosas autobiografías que se publican bajo la responsabilidad de quien habla—o por el contrario no es más que un nuevo tipo de discurso novelesco, cuyo contenido autobiográfico se justifica, entre otras causas, por esa tendencia al subjetivismo que invade el arte de nuestros días.” (76 citing Molero; italics belong to Molero)

Becerra notes several parallels which exist between the unnamed protagonist of Los años

and Torrente, asking, “¿Estamos entonces ante una autobiografía parcial de Torrente? La

respuesta a esta pregunta no puede ser rotunda a poco que conozcamos el sentido lúdico del autor, de reconocida estirpe cervantina, y las características de su poética” (81).

Perhaps most importantly, Becerra refers to an account Torrente published in Cotufas en

el golfo63 which closely parallels the narration found in the prologue of Los años. After careful consideration, Becerra concludes that:

no podemos atribuir a Los años la etiqueta de autobiografía, y no sólo por transgredir los rasgos discursivos característicos del género, sino también por la ambigua y calculada intencionalidad del autor para que sus novelas puedan ser interpretadas por el lector de ese modo. Y es que, frente a lo que sucede con la escritura autobiográfica, en la autoficcional el objetivo del novelista parece ser diferente: hablar de sí mismo sin responsabilizarse de lo narrado. (87)

Becerra states that Los años does, however, comply with Molero’s definition of

“autoficción.”

La Tabla Redonda 5 (2007) also proves itself invaluable to the present study, as it

focuses exclusively on what editor Stephen Miller calls the “narraciones esquemáticas”— the novels which Torrente published during the final decade of his life, beginning with

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Crónica del rey pasmado. Miller explains the reason for grouping together the novels

published during the final decade of Torrente’s life:

Como grupo las siete narraciones esquemáticas se acercan más a la novela corta o cuento largo que a la novela propiamente dicha. Hacen recordar otras creaciones anteriores del autor tales como las narraciones más largas incluídas en Las sombras recobradas (1979) e “Ifigenia” y otros cuentos (1987). Pero, a partir de Crónica del rey pasmado, Torrente sólo escribe corto y sin gran esfuerzo al ambientar sus creaciones. El narrar breve, que antes de 1989 era una especie de relevo de la torrentina novela larga habitual, se convierte con Crónica en estilo único. (ii)

All of the novels to be studied presently, except Filomeno, a mi pesar and Los años

indecisos, receive critical attention in this issue of La Tabla Redonda, though often from

a different thematic perspective.

Gonzalo Navajas focuses on anti-epic aspects of Crónica, contrasting it with the

series of novels by Arturo Pérez-Reverte which feature protagonist Capitán Alatriste.

Citing Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code, Carlos Ruiz Zafón’s La sombra del viento, and Julia

Navarro’s La hermandad de la sábana blanca, Navajas states that “la reemergencia de la

historia se ha planteado con la eclosión de la novela que se centra en la reconstrucción

ficcional de un tiempo pasado” (3).64 He adds that Crónica “se incluye entre los textos

pioneros determinantes de esta reorientación hacia la temporalidad pasada” (3). In stark

contrast to the Capitán Alatriste series—“una narración expansiva que, aunque centrada

en la ciudad y la Corte de Madrid, se abre a los territorios del Imperio español en Europa

y el Mediterráneo” (3)—Crónica “carece de esa dimensión épica” (3). Likewise, whereas

the Capitán Alatriste series “es enorme en su extensión y dimensión físicas[,] Crónica, por el contrario, es una narración de interiores” (3).

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Navajas points to a larger purpose in the resurgence of literature dealing with historical periods in Spain during the final decades of the Twentieth Century:

Después de un largo periodo de silenciamiento y manipulación ideológica del pasado a partir de los presupuestos del franquismo, la sociedad y la cultura españolas han entrado en una fase de un replanteamiento más genuino y veraz de su historia. Esa revisión se aplica, en primer lugar, a los hechos de la Guerra Civil que tienen una mayor carga intelectual y emotiva a causa de su mayor proximidad en el tiempo y su conexión todavía directa con el presente. No obstante, esa reconsideración se extiende también a la historia más lejana en cuanto que puede servir para explicar los hechos del presente de modo más adecuado y preciso. (7)

Favoring microhistory over macrohistory (or the Grand Histoire), Navajas sees Marfisa as the driving force behind the events which take place in this novel: “En Crónica,

Marfisa prevalece sobre la negación de los sentidos a través de la aserción de una fuerza

erótica que supera los dictámenes de la represión. De nuevo, la microhistoria prevalece

sobre los designios grandilocuentes, pero destructivos de la Historia monolíticamente

uniforme para todos” (10-11).

Richard Curry also analyzes Crónica del rey pasmado, but centers his

investigation on the film adaptation, El rey pasmado (1991).65 This critic refers to

cinematic adaptation as a form of translation, noting the great similarity between it and

literary translation: “Los dos procesos son complejos y complicados transformacionales

que pueden resultar en la ‘traición’ del texto original” (14). Basing his evaluation of the

cinematic adaptation of El rey pasmado on categories established by Kiril Taranovsky

(who, in turn, based the categories on those established by Jurij Tynianov, Mikhail

Bakhtin, and Jan Mukařovsky), Curry deems that:

En la mejor tradición de las adaptaciones fílmicas, El rey pasmado no sólo apoya esta misma temática (mensaje) sino que lo intenta hacer con el

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

humorismo e ingenio característicos del subtexto de Torrente, alcanzando una equivalencia de las más aproximadas a las que puede aspirar la operación adaptadora. (25)

María Luis Gamallo relates the reception in France of three of Torrente’s novels—Crónica del rey pasmado, La novela de Pepe Ansúrez, and La boda de Chon

Recalde.66 She details the number of copies of each novel printed in French (4847 of

Crónica, 2018 of Pepe Ansúrez, and a paltry 1523 of Chon Recalde), citing these as the

reason that Crónica received the critical attention it did, whereas each of the others “pasó

prácticamente desapercibida” (28) in that country. Perhaps not surprising, then, were the

commentaries these novels received in the press:

Calificada la Crónica del rey pasmado de “littérature presque volatile” (Le Monde, 17/04/1992), la crítica definió La novela de Pepe Ansúrez como “un livre drôle et facile à lire” después de haber destacado la trayectoria literaria de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, “un vieux monsieur qui n’a plus rien à prouver,” y quien, “à présent, il écrit juste pour s’amuser” (La Tribune, 14/03/1996). (29)

Gamallo does mention one journalist who “paradójicamente subraya la fantasía y el

imaginario gallego del autor, ausentes de las tres novelas,” though she concludes that

“ninguna de las obras de Torrente Ballester traducidas al francés tuvo el éxito esperado

de ventas en librería” (32).

Frieda Blackwell analyzes metafictional characteristics and narrative perspective

in La novela de Pepe Ansúrez67 in order to illustrate how this seemingly simple novel

actually becomes much more complex as its author contemplates on themes of literary

creation which he has treated in earlier works. Referring to Pepe Ansúrez as a “mature

work from the last decade of his life” (67), this critic maintains that “Torrente gives

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 readers a fragmented piece with a unique shifting narrative consciousness that moves among characters who offer contradictory ideas on the novel of Pepe Ansúrez” (67).

A “Número extraordinario” of La Tabla Redonda (2010) anticipates the

centennial celebrations of Torrente’s birth going on during the year of its publication.

Edited by Gonzalo Navajas, the special issue contains essays treating the central topic

(and subtitle) of “Configuraciones de la historia en Gonzalo Torrente Ballester.” In his

introduction to the special number of La Tabla Redonda, Navajas states:

La conmemoración del centenario del nacimiento de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, a la que este volumen se une, contribuye a dinamizar de nuevo el intercambio intelectual con un autor y sus textos que abarcan algunas de las cuestiones capitales que se dirimieron apasionadamente en un tiempo que sigue siendo el nuestro. (i)

Navajas speaks of Torrente’s advantage of having lived through most of the Twentieth

Century as one of the contributors to the author’s ability to reflect upon the events of the past century. Notwithstanding, continues Navajas, is the fact that Torrente spent much of his working life as a historian and teacher of History. Navajas concludes that Torrente’s life and literary works make the Galician “un testigo y narrador muy privilegiado de su tiempo, que investiga, analiza y juzga no desde la mirada del historiador profesional sino desde las construcciones subjetivas e imaginarias del arte” (i). Thus, continues Navajas,

Torrente’s literature evinces “una textualidad que se concentra en la complejidad, con

frecuencia contradictoria y sorprendente, de los registros de un tiempo” (i). For the

purposes of the present study, the fifth issue and the “Número extraordinario” of La

Tabla Redonda will serve the greatest importance, due to their great similarity both in

novels treated (La Tabla Redonda) and themes analyzed (“Número extraordinario”).

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

However, the novels and themes treated in the present study will receive a more detailed attention than the essays in these issues of La Tabla Redonda have afforded them.

Mechthild Albert considers the role of the Church and the Inquisition in Crónica

del rey pasmado, by Torrente, as well as Limpieza de sangre, by Arturo Pérez Reverte.68

She states that “en Crónica, el Santo Oficio no existe como entidad monolítica sino que

Torrente Ballester da de ella una imagen muy matizada [. . .]. De esta manera en

Crónica, la Iglesia abarca una gran variedad de tendencias que van del oscurantismo más

fanático al raciocinio preilustrado” (2). This wide variety in outlooks in the members of

the clergy present in Crónica helps to explain how “cada uno llega a poner en duda la fe del otro en algún momento, síntoma de la arbitrariedad y de la quiebra del sistema de valores puesto al cuidado de la Inquisición” (9). Given the great deal of discord between

them, this critic signals that: “Al final, en una lograda vuelta dialéctica, la encarnación

suprema de la racionalidad resulta ser el Diablo. No, por cierto, el demonio que

obsesiona al pueblo inculto, sino el Trasgu, ‘confidente’ (C, 37) privilegiado de fray

Eugenio de Rivadesella de la orden de San Francisco” (12). In a manner of conclusion,

this critic states:

Torrente Ballester nos da una visión “intelectualizada,” personalizada y matizada de la Inquisición, visión “desde dentro,” tal vez tributaria de la larga experiencia del autor bajo un régimen dictatorial. Pues esta reunión de “fantasmas,” ¿no podría leerse tal vez como parábola del tardo franquismo, cuando, a excepción de unos exaltados, la mayoría de los dirigentes ya no creían apenas en el sistema que representaban? (21-22).

Palmar Álvarez-Blanco focuses on Filomeno, a mi pesar in her contribution to the

centennial number of La Tabla Redonda.69 As she explains in the opening of her essay,

“la comprensión de esta novela como un testimonio de la experiencia de lo real resulta de

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 gran utilidad para entender, no sólo la labor de Torrente, como intelectual de la novela, sino el devenir de un tipo de narrativa que damos en llamar pensante y que reaparece en el siglo XXI en España” (25; italics belong to Álvarez-Blanco).

Janet Pérez discusses Torrente as a precursor to the New Historical Novel in her contribution to the centennial number of La Tabla Redonda.70 She notes Torrente’s

positions as literary historian and professor of history as crucial elements in

understanding the Galician’s literature. Also important is Torrente’s fascination with

Cervantes and Don Quijote. Perhaps most importantly, however, was the need to incorporate his criticism without having his works censored by the Franco regime. Pérez provides a list of characteristics found in the New Historical Novel, noting the presence of many of these in several of Torrente’s literary works. They include the presence of actual historical figures in literature, interactions between historical and fictional characters, a challenging of so-called “official history” and the process by which it is created, frequent use of irony, parody, intertextuality, metafiction, presence of Bakhtinian elements such as heteroglossia and the carnivalesque, re-writing of history, non-linear flow of time, and use of pastiche, among others (184). Pérez concludes that, “En definitiva, la importancia de Torrente Ballester radica en su obra total y no en el conjunto de técnicas subversivas que reunió para circunnavegar la censura y criticar la

historiografía franquista, aunque con ellas haya anticipado la casi totalidad de los rasgos

que caracterizan a la ‘nueva novela española’” (185).

Adolfo Sotelo Vázquez closes the “número extraordinario” of La Tabla Redonda with a discussion of literary relations between Gonzalo Torrente Ballester and fellow

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Galician Camilo José Cela during the postwar period.71 Sotelo cites correspondence

between the two authors, indicating their mutual respect and the parallel manner in which

they evolved as writers.

A forthcoming issue of La Tabla Redonda (2011) collects presentations given at

an international conference in October 2010 to celebrate Torrente’s centennial. It

includes contributions by many of the most eminent Torrente scholars, and as did the

various issues before it, will serve as an invaluable research tool for anyone interested in

studying Torrente more in depth.

1 See Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, Lo mejor de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (Barcelona: Seix Barral, 1989).

2 La Tabla Redonda: Anuario de estudios torrentinos, ed. Carmen Becerra (Universidade de Vigo: Servizo de Publicacións, 2003–present).

3 A simple search for “Gonzalo Torrente Ballester” in the MLA International Bibliography yields a disproportionately high amount of scholarly work on the Galician starting in the 1980s, compared to previous decades. The search revealed two articles published during the 1960s, 15 from the 1970s, 65 from the 1980s, 44 from the 1990s, and 82 from 2001 to the present. However, the results of this search did not include much of the scholarship conducted on Torrente and his literature in Europe, particularly in Spain but including England, Germany, France, Italy, and the Netherlands.

4 Alicia Giménez (Bartlett), Torrente Ballester: El autor y su obra (Barcelona: Barcanova, 1981).

5 Carmen Becerra, Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (Madrid: Ministerio de Cultura, 1982).

6 Alicia Giménez Bartlett, Torrente Ballester en su mundo literario (Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, Biblioteca de la Caja de Ahorros y Monte de Piedad de Salamanca, 1984).

7 Janet Pérez, Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (Boston: Twayne, 1984).

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

8 Frieda Blackwell, The Game of Literature: Demythification and Parody in Novels of Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (Valencia: Albatros, 1985).

9 Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, eds. Janet Pérez and Stephen Miller (Boulder, CO: Society of Spanish and Spanish American Studies, 1988).

10 Margarita Benítez, “Parodia y subversión en las primeras novelas de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester,” Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, eds. Janet Pérez and Stephen Miller (Boulder, CO: Society of Spanish and Spanish American Studies, 1988) 107-112.

11 Robert Nugent, “El viaje del joven Tobías and the Quest for Purity,” Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, eds. Janet Pérez and Stephen Miller (Boulder, CO: Society of Spanish and Spanish American Studies, 1988) 13-18.

12 Leo Hickey, “Floutings of the Consistency Maxim in La princesa durmiente va a la escuela,” Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, eds. Janet Pérez and Stephen Miller (Boulder, CO: Society of Spanish and Spanish American Studies, 1988) 19-31.

13 Santiago López Torres and Jaime Carbajo Romero, “El juego silábico en La saga/ fuga de J.B.,” Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, eds. Janet Pérez and Stephen Miller (Boulder, CO: Society of Spanish and Spanish American Studies, 1988) 45-51.

14 Genaro Pérez, “Préstamos literarios/ intertextualidad en La saga/ fuga,” Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, eds. Janet Pérez and Stephen Miller (Boulder, CO: Society of Spanish and Spanish American Studies, 1988) 53-60.

15 Amparo Pérez Gutiérrez, “Motivos apocalípticos en La isla de los jacintos cortados y sus nexos con las primeras partes de la trilogía,” Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, eds. Janet Pérez and Stephen Miller (Boulder, CO: Society of Spanish and Spanish American Studies, 1988) 61-70.

16 David K. Herzberger, “Fragmentos de apocalipsis and the Meaning of the Metafictional Character,” Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, eds. Janet Pérez and Stephen Miller (Boulder, CO: Society of Spanish and Spanish American Studies, 1988) 33-43.

17 Kathleen Glenn, “Myth and Metaphor in Quizá nos lleve el viento al infinito,” Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, eds. Janet Pérez and Stephen Miller (Boulder, CO: Society of Spanish and Spanish American Studies, 1988) 71-78.

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

18 Carmen Becerra, “Juego y parodia de la identidad en Yo no soy yo, evidentemente,” Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, eds. Janet Pérez and Stephen Miller (Boulder, CO: Society of Spanish and Spanish American Studies, 1988) 99-106.

19 Frieda Blackwell, “Literature within Literature in Novels of Gonzalo Torrente Ballester,” Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, eds. Janet Pérez and Stephen Miller (Boulder, CO: Society of Spanish and Spanish American Studies, 1988) 113-126.

20 Lynne E. Overesch-Maister, “History in Fiction and Fiction in History in the Novels of Gonzalo Torrente Ballester,” Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, eds. Janet Pérez and Stephen Miller (Boulder, CO: Society of Spanish and Spanish American Studies, 1988) 127-139.

21 Janet Pérez, “La rosa de los vientos: Compendium of Torrente’s Novelistic Art and Historiographic Speculation,” Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, eds. Janet Pérez and Stephen Miller (Boulder, CO: Society of Spanish and Spanish American Studies, 1988) 79-97.

22 “El viaje del joven Tobías and the Quest for Purity.”

23 Genaro Pérez, La novela como burla/ juego: Siete experimentos novelescos de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (Valencia: Albatros, 1989).

24 Pérez later analyzes other works by Torrente that approximate the detective fiction genre. See “La muerte del Decano: ¿Suicidio, asesinato, accidente?” Hispanófila 135 (2002): 61-71.

25 Furthermore, Pérez cites Pere Gimferrer as having considered La saga/ fuga de J.B. “una de las mejores novelas de la década pasada [1961-70], y la más significativa desde la publicación de Tiempo de Silencio de [Luis] Martín Santos” (43; citing Pere Gimferrer, “Otras inquisiciones: La saga/ fuga de J.B.,” Destino, Barcelona, 29 July 1972).

26 See Janet Pérez, “Leonardo Padura Fuentes: La novela de mi vida. Academic Detecting and the novela negra,” Hispanófila 143 (Jan. 2005): 111-20.

27 Janet Pérez, “Text, Context, and Subtext in Torrente Ballester’s Filomeno, a mi pesar,” Letras Peninsulares 2.3 (Winter 1989): 341-362.

28 Diss. U of Murcia (Spain), 1989. Print.

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

29 Ángel Loureiro, Mentira y seducción: La trilogía fantástica de Torrente Ballester (Madrid: Castalia, 1990).

30 Carmen Becerra, Guardo la voz, cedo la palabra: Conversaciones con Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (Barcelona: Anthropos, 1990).

31 José Ponte Far, Galica en la obra narrativa de Torrente Ballester (A Coruña: Tambre, 1994).

32 La creación literaria de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, eds. Ángel Abuín, Carmen Becerra, and Ángel Candelas (Vigo, Pontevedra: Tambre, 1997).

33 Eduardo Alonso, “La fabulación ‘como si,’” La creación literaria de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, ed. Ángel Abuín, Carmen Becerra, et al. (Vigo, Pontevedra: Tambre, 1997) 23-34.

34 Sagrario Ruiz Baños, “La construcción ficcional en Gonzalo Torrente Ballester,” La creación literaria de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, ed. Ángel Abuín, Carmen Becerra, et al. (Vigo, Pontevedra: Tambre, 1997) 35-60.

35 Gonzalo Sobejano, “La novela poemática y sus alrededores,” Ínsula 464-465 (July-August 1985): 26.

36 Ángel Loureiro, “Torrente Ballester, novelista postmoderno,” La creación literaria de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, ed. Ángel Abuín, Carmen Becerra, et al. (Vigo, Pontevedra: Tambre, 1997) 61-76.

37 Loureiro explains history in Torrente’s fiction as, “en primer lugar, Historia (con mayúsculas) como conocimiento del pasado, pero también, en segundo lugar, contra-historia o historia como invención (de un personaje-narrador); y, por último, historia como narración, como arte de narrar, como potencia creativa” (61).

38 The italics are Loureiro’s.

39 Janet Pérez, “Sátiras del poder en la narrativa de Torrente,” La creación literaria de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, ed. Ángel Abuín, Carmen Becerra, et al. (Vigo, Pontevedra: Tambre, 1997) 77-98.

40 Isabel Torrente Fernández, “La historia en la narrativa de Torrente Ballester,” La creación literaria de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, ed. Ángel Abuín, Carmen Becerra, et al. (Vigo, Pontevedra: Tambre, 1997) 99-110.

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

41 Ángel Basanta, “Gonzalo Torrente Ballester en los 80: Últimas novelas del autor,” La creación literaria de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, ed. Abuín González, Carmen Becerra, et al. (Vigo, Pontevedra: Tambre, 1997) 111-27.

42 Carmen Becerra, “Contribución al estudio del significado de Don Juan en la versión de Torrente Ballester,” La creación literaria de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, ed. Ángel Abuín, Carmen Becerra, et al. (Vigo, Pontevedra: Tambre, 1997) 129-161.

43 Northrop Frye, El camino crítico (Madrid: Taurus, Col. Persiles, 1986) 32-33. Cited in Carmen Becerra, “Contribución al estudio del significado de Don Juan en la versión de Torrente Ballester,” in Creación literaria de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (Vigo, Pontevedra: Tambre, 1997) 131.

44 “N’existe pleinement comme Don Juan que dans son rapport aux deux autres composantes…” Le mythe de Don Juan (Paris: Armand Colin, 1978) 8.

45 The inner citation proceeds from Torrente’s Don Juan.

46 The italics are Becerra’s.

47 Eliane Lavaud-Fage, “Torrente Ballester y la crítica genética,” La creación literaria de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, ed. Ángel Abuín, Carmen Becerra, et al. (Vigo, Pontevedra: Tambre, 1997) 163-173.

48 José Ponte Far, “Galicia en los cuadernos de trabajo de Torrente Ballester (Cuadernos de la Romana, Nuevos cuadernos de la Romana, Los cuadernos de un vate vago), La creación literaria de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, ed. Ángel Abuín, Carmen Becerra, et al. (Vigo, Pontevedra: Tambre, 1997) 175-192.

49 Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, El pavoroso caso del Señor Cualquiera: Farsa en tres partes. In Siete ensayos y una farsa (Madrid: Escorial, 1942).

50 Janet Pérez, “As novelas ‘menores’ de Torrente á luz do neohistoricismo,” Revista Galega do Ensino 18 (Feb. 1998): 43-71.

51 José Paulino and Carmen Becerra, eds., Compás de Letras. Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (Madrid: Complutense, 2001).

52 Janet Pérez, “Writing, Writers, and the Writer in the Novels of Torrente Ballester as Exemplified in Los años indecisos,” Confluencia 16.2 (Spring 2001): 61-70.

53 Santiago de Compostela: U of Santiago de Compostela, 2003.

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

54 Wojciech Charchalis, El realismo mágico en la perspectiva europea. El caso de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (New York: Peter Lang, 2005).

55 According to Charchalis: De aquí aparece la pregunta de si el Conde y el padre Almeida son diablos como quieren varias personas en el libro o más bien ángeles que bajaron a la tierra con el propósito de hacer creer la verdad a la gente en el mandamiento del amor. Esta duda se hará más justificada cuando reparemos en la conversación del padre Rivadesella con el Gran Inquisidor, para quien la descripción del diablo que el día anterior apareció en el cielo tuvo aspecto más bien angelical que diabólico (Crónica, p. 24). (111; interior citation made by Charchalis)

56 Carmen Becerra, La historia en la ficción: La narrativa de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (Madrid: Ediciones del Orto, 2005).

57 Becerra cites Smith as having said Crónica del rey pasmado is “todo menos una novela histórica” (“Crónica del rey pasmado. Una tapicería de ilusiones.” Abril 12 [1996]: 46).

58 Carmen Becerra, Los géneros populares en la narrativa de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester: la novela policíaca (Vigo: Academia del Hispanismo, 2007).

59 Carmen Becerra and Emilie Guyard, eds., Los juegos de la identidad movediza en la obra de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (Vigo: Academia del Hispanismo, 2008).

60 José Colmeiro, “Historia y metaficción en La muerte del Decano de Torrente Ballester: Crónica postmoderna de una muerte anunciada,” La Tabla Redonda 2 (2004): 135-150.

61 Carmen Becerra, “Juegos de la autoficción en Los años indecisos,” La Tabla Redonda 4 (2006): 73-89.

62 See Alicia Molero de la Iglesia, “Figuras y significados de la autonovelación,” Espéculo: Revista de estudios literarios 33 (July-Oct. 2006): n. pag. Web. 18 Sept. 2011. .

63 See Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, “Encuentro el ‘el viejo almacén,’” Cotufas del golfo (Barcelona: Destino, 1986) 375-378.

64 Gonzalo Navajas, “La historia anti-épica en Crónica del rey pasmado de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester,” La Tabla Redonda 5 (2007): 1-11.

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

65 Richard Curry, “Un caso de fidelidad intertextual: El rey pasmado en novela y en cine,” La Tabla Redonda 5 (2007): 13-26.

66 María Luis Gamallo, “Sobre la recepción en Francia de Crónica del rey pasmado, La novela de Pepe Ansúrez y La boda de Chon Recalde,” La Tabla Redonda 5 (2007): 27-32.

67 Frieda Blackwell, “Narrative Perspective in La novela de Pepe Ansúrez by Gonzalo Torrente Ballester,” La Tabla Redondada 5 (2007): 67-80.

68 Mechthild Albert, “Iglesia e Inquisición en Crónica del rey pasmado de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester y Limpieza de sangre de Arturo Pérez-Reverte,” (La Tabla Redonda, Número extraordinario (2010): 1-23.

69 Palmar Álvarez-Blanco, “Filomeno, a [su] pesar. El testimonio de un intelectual de la novela hacia 1988,” La Tabla Redonda Número extraordinario (2010): 25-40.

70 Janet Pérez, “Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, precursor de la ‘nueva novela española,’” La Tabla Redonda Número extraordinario (2010): 175-187.

71 Adolfo Sotelo Vázquez, “Acerca de Camilo José Cela y Gonzalo Torrente Ballester,” La Tabla Redonda Número extraordinario (2010): 189-205.

Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

CHAPTER IV

THEORETICAL FRAME

Gonzalo Torrente Ballester’s literary works span several decades, and the variety of themes he treats in them lends itself to several methods of literary analysis. The current study will focus on novels published during the final decade of Torrente’s life, incorporating theories of New Historicism. New Historicism arose partly in rejection of the narrowness, conservatism, and rigidity of the “New Critics” who insisted on strict

“close reading” and held that one could not go beyond the text by considering history, authorial biography/ autobiography, psychology, etc. A type of Anglo-American formalist criticism dominating the mid-decades of the Twentieth Century, New Criticism rejected everything but “the work itself,” rejecting the “old historicism,” along with biographical data, reader-responses, emphasizing Formalism, pretending to be a “science of literature.” Consideration of authorial intent was neither possible nor desirable. Direct declarations by the author (e.g. in diaries or interviews) were believed to result in

“intentional fallacy” and were not to be given credence. Meaning of the text was intrinsic, to be found in patterns of sound, imagery, narrative structure, perspective, repetition of symbols, etc.

New Historicism has been defined as:

an approach to literary criticism and literary theory based on the premise that a literary work should be considered a product of the time, place, and circumstances of its composition rather than as an isolated creation. It had its roots in a reaction to the “New Criticism” of formal analysis of works of literature, which was seen by a new generation of professional readers as taking place in a vacuum.1

96 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

New Historicism, to some extent, steps backward in considering history relevant, at the same time it proclaims that “history is fiction” and “fiction is history,” and rejects the pretended “objectivity” or truth of documents formerly considered historical (e.g. diaries, letters, newspapers, autobiographies, memoirs, etc.—as well as reports by investigators, history books, etc.). Clearly a rejection of the kind of documents produced by Francoist historiography (which Torrente observed first-hand, beginning as early as 1938 when he was part of the group of young writers with the Franco command in Burgos), Torrente’s literature from early on demythologizes, parodies, and even mocks the manipulation of history—its falsification—and the erasure of dissenting viewpoints, heterodox texts, and objective viewpoints. An early case in point is Torrente’s short story, “Gerineldo”

(1944), a comedic but nonetheless biting satire based in medieval France which strips away any possible claim to glory for the Falangist/ Francoist revolt.

Catherine Gallagher and Stephen Greenblatt have stated that New Historicism does not contain a specific set of criteria with which to judge texts, literary or otherwise, reminding the reader that New Historicism was born out of “an impatience with

American New Criticism, an unsettling of established norms and procedures, a mingling of dissent and restless curiosity” (2).2 They maintain that it is this very lack of a rigid set

of rules, and the absence of a “New Historicist School,” which might otherwise unite

New Historicist theory across disciplines. The resultant moderate flexibility of the New

Historical approach allows it to become a “history of possibilities: while deeply interested in the collective, it remains committed to the value of the single voice, the isolated scandal, the idiosyncratic vision, the transient sketch” (16). Yet different applications of

97 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

New Historicism still contain common elements. H. Aram Veeser has suggested the following common theoretical assumptions:

1. that every expressive act is embedded in a network of material practices; 2. that every act of unmasking, critique, and opposition uses the tools it condemns and risks falling prey to the practice it exposes; 3. that literary and non-literary “texts” circulate inseparably; 4. that no discourse, imaginative or archival, gives access to unchanging truths nor expresses inalterable human nature; 5. finally… that a critical method and a language adequate to describe culture under capitalism participate in the economy they describe. (ix)3

These critical assumptions fall within the purview of dialectical materialism and

Marxism. Though particularly helpful in the greater sub-field of New Historical

criticism, the Marxist aspects will not form an integral part of the present study. In light

of this, a more straight-forward, all-inclusive view of New Historicism will be necessary.

Hayden White has become one of the leading critics involved with New

Historicism and the relationship between literary and historical texts. White has said the

following regarding historical discourse:

What historical discourse produces are interpretations of whatever information about knowledge of the past the historian commands. These interpretations can take a number of forms, ranging from simple chronicles or lists of facts all the way over to highly abstract philosophies of history, but what they all have in common is their treatment of a narrative mode of representation as fundamental to the grasping of their referents as distinctively historical phenomena. Adapting a famous phrase of Croce’s to our purposes, we may say that, where there is no narrative, there is no distinctively historical discourse. (3; italics belong to White)4

That history is written using narrative certainly is not new—history texts and lectures are much more than a simple list of facts. Yet the notion that historical texts are more interpretations than cold, scientific fact is fairly new; moreover, it acknowledges the

98 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 possibility that various interpretations be made from the same historical event. It is often said that “History is written by the victors,” and New Historicism endeavors to account for marginal or marginalized voices as it reflects upon history. Upon considering the historical veracity of fictional texts produced by members of the Latin American Boom,

White ponders: “Would [one] wish to say that their works do not teach us about real history because they are fictions? Or that, being fictions about history, they are devoid of tropisms and discursivity? Are their novels less true for being fictional?” (13). Just because the narrative takes shape as a work of fiction, it does not mean that the work can not ponder historical events, and particularly those during which the author has lived.

This holds true of representations of historical events present in Torrente’s fiction as well.

Two articles appearing in Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester5 explore the historical dimensions of Torrente’s literature. Janet Pérez focuses on La rosa de los

vientos (1985), La princesa durmiente (completed in 1952, but not published until 1983),

and Dafne y ensueños (1983) to illustrate Torrente’s “long-standing interest in history as

fiction and fiction as history, the relationship between man and myth, or reality and what

history makes of that reality” (6).6 Similarly, Lynne Overesch-Maister utilizes Torrente’s

“fantastic trilogy” to demonstrate the symbiosis of history and fiction: “History and

fiction coincide in that both represent man’s attempts to formulate in intelligible form

what is perceived as an ever-changing, incomprehensible reality” (9). Overesch-Maister

explains that Torrente’s dual occupation as historian and novelist put him at a privileged

position from which to observe the combination of the two entities (fiction-history) and

how they function together.

99 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Janet Pérez draws upon New Historicism theories in an article published on what she terms Torrente’s “novelas menores,”7 referring to the novels Torrente published after

the “fantastic trilogy.” Accordingly, despite Torrente’s almost-meteoric rise in popularity

in response to the “fantastic trilogy,” and to the prestigious literary prizes and seat in the

Real Academia de la Lengua he received shortly following their publication, “as obras de

Torrente a partir da chamada triloxía atraeron a poucos estudiosos” (43). Employing the

theories of New Historicism established by Hayden White, Frederic Jameson, Stephen

Greenblatt, and David Lodge, the critic explains that “Varias obras de Torrente (en

especial, as escritas a partir de Filomeno, a mi pesar) ilumínanse ó lelas á luz de

postulados do novo historicismo” (46). To synthesize the aforementioned critics’

theories:

Hai numerosos puntos de coincidencia entre teóricos do neohistoricismo e conceptos expostos por Torrente en entrevistas, ensaios e novelas, dos cales o máis importante é o concepto da condición ficticia da Historia, con maiúscula, o mesmo cá idea de que a ficción é historia. [. . .]. No canto de ve-lo pasado como algo monolítico, e producir unha visión monolóxica, os seguidores do neohistoricismo concíbeno como algo aberto á interpretación de cada individuo, de cada lector ou investigador, de acordo coa súa personal circunstancia histórico-cultural e o contexto do suceso ou documento. Posto que o grupo inclúe historiadores, críticos literarios, ademais de metahistoriadores como Hayden White, enténdese a falta de normas ben definidas ou fronteiras ríxidas [. . .]. Segundo Hayden White, non existe ningún achegamento específicamente histórico ó estudio da historia, senón unha variedade de achegamentos, de acordo coas diferentes posturas ideolóxicas, principio que demostran moitas obras de Torrente. Para White, a relación entre o texto e o sistema cultural que o produce é intertextual posto que os sucesos se describen a partir dunha revisión lingüística; a “Historia” é simplemente un dos moitos posibles textos lingüísticos. (44-45)

Having explained the principal concepts of New Historicism, Pérez establishes a connection between them and the novels published by Torrente in the 1980s and 1990s.

100 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 cataloguing the many points of contact Torrente has had with history or its representation in his life. This includes his studies of history at several universities, as well as his numerous teaching positions in contemporary and ancient history. A case in point is

Torrente’s great interest in literary history, evidenced by his critical works Literatura

Española Contemporánea (1949) and Teatro español contemporáneo (1957), and notably,

his at-times Galdosian manner of depicting historical settings of the Nineteenth Century

in early works such as Farruquiño (1954), “Farruco el desventurado” (1979), Los gozos y

las sombras,8 and of more contemporary historical settings later on in works like Off-side

(1969).

History, while a constant theme in Torrente’s literature, does not receive the same treatment in each work:

A historia viste de xeitos diferentes na obra de Torrente, en certas obras situadas no pasado nas que o contido non allude a feitos históricos específicos ou establecidos (Guadalupe Limón, Ifigenia, Don Juan). A historia preséntase outras veces de xeito máis rigoroso, sobre todo cando se refire ós séculos XIX e XX, pero este rigor tampouco non é regra xeral, posto que pode ser historia lúdica ou fantástica (por exemplo, en La isla de los jacintos cortados, La rosa de los vientos e La princesa durmiente va a la escuela), cun propósito de subverte-la historiografía e desenmascara-la súa servidume política-económica. (46-47)

Perhaps most importantly, Pérez states that “un elemento constante en toda presentación

por Torrente do ‘histórico’ é a súa convicción de que a historia é interpretación” (56).

Readers must never forget that Torrente witnessed years of systematic erasure, twisting

and rewriting of Twentieth-Century Spanish history by Francoist historiographers during

the four decades of dictatorship.

101 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

The 2003 issue of the Monographic Review/ Revista Monográfica treats the nueva novela histórica in Hispanic Literature of the decade prior to its publication, when the New Historical Novel was still largely an emerging phenomenon in the Peninsula, notwithstanding its earlier emergence in Latin America. The articles contained within it treat applications of New Historicism to this genre of Hispanic literature, published both in Spain and Latin America during recent years. In the introduction to the issue, editor

Janet Pérez states that “A notable increase in historical novels treating official historiography with visible lack of reverence marks the post-Franco years in Spain” (9).9

These novels, “essentially postmodern, deconstructive and postcolonial in their basic orientations, [. . .] owe much to the so-called ‘New Historicism’ with its tenet that

‘History is Fiction; Fiction is History’” (9). Pérez relates the situation of literature published in Spain during the Franco regime:

The highly visible process of mythification of Franco from the closing months of the Spanish Civil War (1936-39) until near the end of the dictatorship (1975) created widespread distrust of official historiography in Spain, the more so because the regime systematically went through universities at war’s end, eliminating professors of history and law, ransacking archives, burning books and libraries—destroying the extant historical record, along with many familiar with it, before replacing it with History of its own creation, made in its own image. (10)

Thus, many of the writers who sought to contradict the “official” history fabricated by the

Franco regime found little possibility to do so within the country, without putting themselves and their families at risk of severe punishment. Hence, much of this literature was generated by Spaniards writing and publishing in exile, such as Francisco Ayala and

Ramón Sender, followed by a veritable “flood of long-censored writings by exiles” which appeared after Franco’s death (10).10 In addition to those publications by exiles, there

102 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 has been a steady stream of publication of literature within Spain which opposes the established myths of the Franco regime. Pérez does not limit herself to literature published during the dictatorship (and mainly by those authors who went into exile during the Spanish Civil War or shortly thereafter), but also includes literature published after the end of the dictatorship, both by the generations of writers who experienced the

Civil War and the dictatorship and by a new generation of writers who grew up during the post-Franco democracia yet were compelled to ponder those important events which shaped the modern Spain. Hence, “New availability under the monarchy of works of exile and opposition writers plus ‘unofficial’ histories by foreign historiographers, eagerly devoured, likewise helped to create an enthusiastic market for subversive, demythologizing, counter-histories” (10).

Current trends of demythologization of Spain’s recent history are not limited to literary production, however, particularly in the most recent years of the new millennium.

In an effort to parallel measures enacted worldwide to ensure the horrors of the World

Wars—and, in particular, the Holocaust—do not pass from civilization’s collective memory just because those who lived through them are no longer alive, Spain passed the

Ley de Memoria Histórica11 in October of 2007. With this new law in place, the country

has encouraged production of works in many fields dedicated to analysis of the Spanish

Civil War and the Franco dictatorship, including the atrocities both sides in the Civil War

committed and the effects of the Civil War and the dictatorship on Spanish civilization

and culture in the Twentieth Century.

103 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Torrente is classed with writers contradicting the Franco regime’s “official history” from within Spain, rather than in exile. “Within Spain,” Pérez notes, “Gonzalo

Torrente Ballester undertook the demythologization of official historiography early on, although some incredibly subversive texts such as La princesa durmiente va a la escuela

(written in the 1950s but unpublished until 1983) were prudently withheld until much later” (10). Torrente’s works embody the characteristics of the nueva novela histórica, yet avoided the heavy censorship of the Franco regime:

Other, more ludic works openly question and even ridicule the historiographic process—especially La isla de los jacintos cortados (1980), La rosa de los vientos (1985), and Yo no soy yo, evidentemente (1987), seemingly targeting academic historians in other times or other places, a transparent dodge for censors. (10)

Seymour Menton and Fernando Aínsa are especially important historians and theorists

who have published on topics dealing with New Historicism and which are particularly

pertinent to studies of Iberian and Latin American literatures. Comparing Menton’s Latin

America’s New Historical Novel and Aínsa’s “La nueva novela histórica latinoamericana”12 to the typology present in Tzvetan Todorov’s The Poetics of Prose

(1977),13 concepts explored by Mikhail Bakhtin, and theories of Lacan (11-12), Pérez

catalogues common themes found in the nueva novela histórica from each side of the

Atlantic. Themes explored in Aínsa’s article include:

revisionist readings of official history; deconstruction of national myths, and elimination of the ‘epic distance’ between the narrator or text and historical events; exaggerated, frequently burlesque incorporation of certain historic archives or sources (to which might well be added a repetitive technique of Torrente Ballester and others, the invention of apocryphal archives and documentation); rewriting of historical events, superimposing multiple time periods; questioning of historical veracity or

104 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

authority via multiple narrative perspectives; and the use of techniques such as pastiche, parody and metafiction to demythologize the past (11).

The issue of Monographic Review exploring nueva novela histórica in Hispanic

literature contains no essays devoted entirely to the study of Torrente’s works. However,

the introductions to the essays therein could help orient the reader towards a theoretical

approach to the Galician writer’s novels. Mercedes Mazquiarán de Rodríguez comments

insightfully on the prevalence of this new historical novel in Spain during the final

decades of the Twentieth Century in her study of José Manuel Fajardo’s Carta del fin del

mundo.14 This critic cites a question posited by critic Luis Sepúlveda, to begin her discussion:

When Luis Sepúlveda asks rhetorically, “¿...es posible que un escritor de treinta y tantos años recupere un manuscrito perdido en el laberinto de su imaginación hace casi cinco siglos?,” he is actually bringing to the fore the emphasis on historiography on the part of Spanish writers in the last decades of the twentieth-century. (49)15

Although the novel in question treats a different time period than the novels to be

analyzed in the present study, it is nevertheless this preoccupation with history, and more

specifically, with their reflections on actual events in Spain’s history, which remains the same in Torrente’s works. Novelists of the last half of the Twentieth Century and the first decade of the Twenty-first Century make use of postmodern techniques not widely practiced by their counterparts of Nineteenth Century Realism and Naturalism or Spain’s mid-century Social Realism as they reflect upon facets of Spanish history and culture contemporary to them. Mazquiarán de Rodríguez notes this significant difference, explaining that “Postmodern simulacra allows fiction to make claims upon the historical past by creating alternatives derived from the historical altenatives derived from the

105 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 official historical referent, or even constructing the ‘historical facts’ to attach to them a particular interpretation, fictionalizing history” (51).

Perhaps one way of envisioning the past as described in Torrente’s literature is as articulated by Antonio Gómez López-Quiñones in his article, “La historia como laberinto textual.”16 This critic first refers to another who suggests that history should not be

studied at all,17 before deciding that taking this radical stance is not advisable for studies

of literature dealing with the Spanish Civil War and Franco dictatorship. He also

acknowledges the difficulty for writers of historical novels (or as often is Torrente’s case,

novels that refer to the post-war period and the dictatorship) to deal with events of the

past objectively:

Por una parte, los textos [. . .] se niegan a manipular y erigir un pasado como se éste fuese un espejo o una sábana blanca que reflejase o en el pudieran proyectarse indiscriminadamente la sensibilidad, el orden y las preocupaciones del presente [. . .]. Por otra parte, estas novelas también se resisten a monumentalizar el pasado, a construirlo como un “otro” temporal de carácter absoluto, un tiempo-paraíso perdido y encapsulado sin mayores repercusiones para los debates culturales y políticos en los que se dirimen los diversos matices de las distintas identidades individuales y colectivas. (125)

Therefore, López-Quiñones proposes to look at literature dealing with the past in a way

in which it does not project current situations onto historical events of the past, nor in a

way that elevates the past to some quasi-utopian status never susceptible to repetition

afterward. At first this might seem paradoxical, considering the tendency of literature to

apply to multiple meanings, situations, or events. Likewise, authors face the peril of

including hindsight in their recreations of the past, especially a past in which they did not

form a part. In order to understand historical events, it is imperative to avoid

106 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 superimposing perspectives and/ or preoccupations from the present onto those historical events. Rather, the reader must conceptualize the historical event utilizing those perspectives and/ or preoccupations from the time in which the event occurred (rendering a literary context more in line with the one preferred by New Historicists). Thus, the task of the writer is to divorce him- or herself from an anachronistic perspective of said event in order to arrive at a more accurate portrayal. As a historian and professor of history,

Torrente was well acquainted with a slightly more neutral manner of conveying the past; yet, as has already been established, New Historicists consider history texts to be simply another form of literature. However, Torrente lived through the phase of history which appears in most of the novels he published during the last decade of his life—i.e., the

Spanish Civil War and the Franco dictatorship. The parody he produces in these final novels mirrors (but goes beyond) the kind of parody he created in literature published during earlier decades, during the years that he was living that phase of Spanish history.

López-Quiñones offers more details to his stipulation cited above, regarding the treatment of the past in literature of the present. This critic considers that “El pasado no es una realidad transparente, dada, evidente ni directamente aprehensible. Por el contrario, el pasado se trata, antes que de cualquier otra cosa, de un esfuerzo responsable por querer conocerlo, de un acto voluntario y consciente por buscar sus rastros” (125).

Thus, narrating the past is not a simple undertaking: time erases some memories, and changes in perspective (personal, political, ideological, etc.) tinge others. López-

Quiñones suggests that the past is in the past, and that it is extremely difficult to discuss it without introducing some kind of modification. It should be noted, however, that the

107 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 authors López-Quiñones treats in his article attempt to reflect upon the Spanish Civil War and the Franco dictatorship without having lived through more than the very end of the dictatorship. Thus, this critic is discussing a situation quite different from the one in which Torrente was as he published literature vaguely and indirectly referencing this difficult period in recent Spanish history.

Nevertheless, it is important to heed López-Quiñones’s analysis, considering it still has to do with the act of representing situations of the past in a present day far removed from them. He reasons that history does not have to be a discussion about the past but depending on paradigms of the present. Rather:

la Historia no tiene por qué ser una narración sobre el presente y sus intereses [. . . sino] que es, desde luego, una narración desde el presente. Esta realidad epistemológica, a la vez que dificulta nuestro conocimiento, supone un reto ético para el hermeneuta. De esta forma, la Historia (en concreto, un episodio de ésta que posee una cualidad fundacional para la identidad contemporánea española, la Guerra Civil), se torna un espacio discursivo en el que cuenta tanto lo propuesto, narrado y afirmado, como las preguntas y los cuestionamientos en torno a los procedimientos epistemológicos, los intereses ideológicos y las motivaciones morales inherentes a dichas proposiciones, narraciones y afirmaciones. (126; italics are those of López Quiñones)

Like the novels this critic studies, the novels Torrente published during the last decade of his life can be read in such a way that they lend insight into what life was like in Spain during the immediate post-war period and the Franco dictatorship.

Kathryn Quinn-Sánchez notes that, during the Nineteenth Century, literature was widely used to produce ideal citizens, who, in turn, would create ideal nations. However, during the Twentieth Century and beyond, Quinn-Sánchez identifies a shift not only in the purpose of literature, but also in the manner in which authors create it (153).18

108 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Whereas literature before the last century could be used to reinforce a concrete way of recalling the past, new forms of literature including the new historical novel have rendered a more ambiguous version of days gone by. In the words of this critic, “During the twentieth century, the role of literature has changed markedly, as it no longer necessarily legitimates the nation or ‘Official History’” (153). Quinn-Sánchez asserts that writers of literature appearing in the last century, and of the new historical novel in particular, “have been rewriting history with the power of the imagination,” (153) making much use of metafiction, exaggeration, and anachronism, as well as literary techniques such as intertextuality and heteroglossia. As a result, Quinn-Sánchez comments:

By removing History from its place of privilege, the new historical novel points to the role that textuality plays in our understanding of the past and as a result, of the present. What appears most interesting is that the discipline of History, once considered to be based on fact, when studied through the lens of literature, becomes a subjective “text” with layers of meaning and a point of view that consequently can be analyzed. In this postmodern era of questioning, it is only logical to question not only History’s place in our comprehension of the past but also that of Literature. Both of these fields have historically relied on the assumption that it is possible to mimetically represent reality. However the new historical novel challenges this very notion. (153-54)

Considering the rewriting of Spanish history during the almost forty years of the Franco dictatorship, which served as nothing but a continuing glorification of Franco and

Falange, it is easy to see the parallels between Quinn-Sánchez’s comments above and

Torrente’s recurring literary technique of demythologization.

In his article, “La parodia en la reescritura laberíntica de la historia: Rut, la que

huyó de la Biblia de Josefina Leyva,”19 Luis A. Jiménez offers the following explanation

of the nueva novela histórica, drawing upon the writings of Fernando Aínsa. Jiménez

109 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 cites Aínsa to the effect that “el revisionismo de la novela histórica contemporánea permite una reescritura desmitificadora del pasado que incluye la parodia en la reconstrucción de mitos, leyendas, crónicas, testimonios, etcétera (14, 19)” (265).20

Jiménez devotes his article to the study of this literary trend in Latin American literature, and more specifically, to the study of a novel written by a Cuban author. However, certain elements that Jiménez cites from Aínsa’s critical study are still applicable to many of Torrente’s works, including El golpe de estado de Guadalupe Limón (1946), Ifigenia

(1949), “Gerineldo,” La princesa durmiente va a la escuela, La rosa de los vientos, and

Crónica del rey pasmado.

Carmen Becerra offers an important perspective on the presence of history in

Torrente’s literary works in her book-length study, La historia en la ficción: La narrativa

de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (2005). Becerra clarifies her position concerning

“aquellos que consideran que toda ficción es historia, un tipo particular de historia, pero

historia al fin y al cabo; pero además, en el caso del autor que ahora nos ocupa, es

evidente la relevancia que posee este tema en la totalidad de sus obras” (32). Becerra

notes that “la crítica ha señalado que es fundamentalmente en la trilogía fantástica en

donde el autor manipula la historia [. . .]. Por el contrario, y como vengo sosteniendo

desde el principio, la utilización y manipulación de ese tema es una constante desde las

primeras hasta las últimas de sus obras” (35). Becerra defends this statement by citing

Celia Fernández Prieto’s definition of history:

[L]a historia es sobre todo historiografía, escritura, forma de representación de un modelo de realidad, el modelo de la realidad histórica [. . .] Por tanto, hay que hablar, en plural, de verdades parciales, sujetas a controversia, provisionales, verdades que se confirman o desconforman en

110 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

la interacción social, mediante acuerdos sociales, institucionales o interpersonales. (36)21

Becerra then considers José María Pozuelo’s theories on history and fiction: “[T]anto el

universo que modelizamos como realidad como el que modelizamos como ficción son,

ambos, códigos culturales que se construyen y que resultan ser un modelo de existencia

proyectado en el seno de cada cultura.” (36)22 In light of these definitions of history,

Becerra reinforces her earlier statement as follows:

Partiendo de tales planteamientos resulta sencillo aceptar la afirmación según la cual el uso de materiales históricos por Torrente Ballester abarca la totalidad de su obra y se adecua sin estridencias al material ficcional, ficcionalizándose al integrarse en su discurso de esa naturaleza, al margen de cuál sea la adscripción de sus obras a uno u otra tendencia o movimiento estéticos. O expresado de otra manera, Torrente manipula la historia en sus novelas, sean estas etiquetadas como realistas o como fantásticas. Dicho lo cual conviene advertir que tal manipulación se realiza con mecanismos e intenciones diferentes en unas y otras. De hecho, Torrente no sólo utiliza materiales históricos, sino que además interpreta los fenómenos de esa naturaleza, e incluso reflexiona sobre el estatuto epistemológico de la Historia. (36-37)

Becerra proposes four classifications of the manners in which history plays a part

in Torrente’s literary works:

1. La Historia como escenografía. 2. La Historia como reinvención. 3. La Historia como eje temático. 4. La Historia como crónica. (40)

Becerra then devotes the rest of La historia en la ficción to providing detailed examples

of works which fit in each classification. Works such as Los gozos y las sombras typify the first classification (40-44), whereas the “fantastic trilogy” fits well within the second classification (44-52). Becerra includes Torrente’s early epic drama, Lope de Aguirre

(1941), and his last theatrical piece, Atardecer en Longwood (1950), as well as Crónica

111 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 del rey pasmado (1989), in the third classification (52-55), leaving the fourth

classification (55-56) for Torrente’s final works, beginning with Filomeno, a mi pesar

(1988).

In the introduction to the “Número extraordinario” of La Tabla Redonda (2010), guest editor Gonzalo Navajas reflects upon the Twentieth Century as a time of both great advances in artistic and cultural output as well as great advances in violence and destruction, noting Torrente’s privileged perspective as one who lived during a great majority of the past century including many significant historical moments. Navajas cites this privileged perspective, as well as the writer’s life-long interest in history and literary history, among contributors to a literature which embraced the seemingly contradictory elements of history and fiction (i). Navajas explains:

La obra de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester trata la historia de su tiempo, pero no lo hace de un modo limitadamente mimético sino que la cuestiona a partir de configuraciones imaginativas que trascienden el modelo histórico representacional y hacen que la historia del siglo aparezca en una versión distinta que aúna lo dramático con lo irónico para producir una lectura inesperada y no convencional de esa temporalidad diabólicamente iluminadora. (ii)

Although not all of the articles in the “Número extraordinario” of La Tabla Redonda treat

the novels to be analyzed in this study, they nevertheless focus on themes which will be

discussed here. These themes include the presence of the Spanish Civil War (along with

specters of Falange and the Franco dictatorship) in Torrente’s literature, as well as the

historical Church and Inquisition in Crónica del rey pasmado. They also include perspectives on literary and philosophical influences on Torrente, including that of

Cervantes, Ortega y Gasset, or the Don Juan myth.

112 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Also pertinent to this study, although not as much as New Historicism, is the New

Historical Novel. Seymour Menton has commented on the New Historical Novel in Latin

American literature in what might be the first work to analyze this literary genre as it applies to literature written in Spanish. In Latin America’s New Historical Novel,23

Menton develops a definition for, and origins of, the New Historical Novel in Latin

American fiction. Menton observes that, “In the broadest sense, every novel is historical since, in varying degrees, it portrays or captures the social environment of its characters, even the most introspective ones” (15). Menton lists six characteristics which commonly occur in New Historical Novels produced in Latin America during the second half of the

Twentieth Century (Menton is careful to point out that novels do not have to contain all six characteristics to be considered examples of the New Historical Novel):

1. The subordination, in varying degrees, of the mimetic re-creation of a given historical period to the illustration of three philosophical ideas, popularized by Borges and applicable to all periods of the past, present, and future [. . .]. [T]hese ideas are (a) the impossibility of ascertaining the true nature of reality or history; (b) the cyclical nature of history; and (c) the unpredictability of history—that although history tends to repeat itself, occasionally the most unexpected and amazing events may and do occur. 2. The conscious distortion of history through omissions, exaggerations, and anachronisms. 3. The utilization of famous historical characters as protagonists. [. . .] 4. Metafiction, or the narrator’s referring to the creative process of his own text. [. . .] 5. Intertextuality. [. . .] 6. The Bakhtinian concepts of the dialogic, the carnivalesque, parody, and heteroglossia. (22-24; italics belong to Menton)

It is important to remember that Menton focuses only on novels treating “a past not directly experienced by the author” (16) in his groundbreaking study on the New

Historical Novel in Latin America. This distinction would exclude almost all of the

113 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 novels to be analyzed in the current study, with Crónica del rey pasmado (1989) as the

only exception. As such, Crónica will receive treatment as a New Historical Novel in the

analysis section of the current study. However, this study does not focus entirely on the

New Historical Novel, but rather includes it as one of several configurations of historical representation Torrente employs in his final novels.

More applicable to this study is the contribution by Janet Pérez to the “Número extraordinario” of La Tabla Redonda.24 In it she discusses Torrente’s position as the precursor of the New Historical Novel in Spain, reminding the reader that Torrente’s positions as historian and professor of history constitute principal reasons for the Galician to include historical elements in his literature. Citing groundbreaking critical studies by

Seymour Menton and Fernando Aínsa on the New Historical Novel in Latin America, this critic posits that this postmodern literary genre was perhaps identified in Latin

America first because the harsh censorship conducted during the decades of the Franco dictatorship would have prohibited the publication of any such works in Spain.

Nevertheless, Torrente managed to publish several works that meet criteria of the New

Historical Novel by setting his literature in another place during another time period,

owing greatly to the fact that the censors often could not draw the parallels back to

present-day Spain.

Pérez explains how the New Historical Novel owes its existence to New

Historicism, in which history is treated more like a literary genre than an immutable

science. The New Historical Novel makes much use of different techniques of

subversion, often parodying events and people in history and sometimes even re-writing

114 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 history or erasing people from it. One of the examples of Torrente’s literature that Pérez mentions is that of La isla de los jacintos cortados, in which the main characters seek to

prove that Napoleon did not exist, having been invented by a covert group. Another main

characteristic of the New Historical Novel is its inherent distrust of anything claiming to

be an “official history,” as well as the methods of historiography involved in creating

what is referred to as “official history.” Pérez cites La rosa de los vientos as an example

of Torrente’s literature in which this occurs. This critic also provides a list of

characteristics of the New Historical Novel, many of which appear frequently in

Torrente’s literary works. These characteristics include the presence of actual historical figures in literature, interactions between historical and fictional characters, a challenging of so-called “official history” and the process by which it is created, frequent use of irony, parody, intertextuality, metafiction, presence of Bakhtinian elements like heteroglossia and the carnivalesque, re-writing of history, non-linear flow of time, and use of pastiche (184).

While only one of Torrente’s final novels can be classified as a true example of the New Historical Novel in accordance with Seymour Menton’s definition (that the novel can not take place in a time experienced first-hand by the author), all of the final novels do possess enough of the characteristics listed above to merit closer inspection with these in mind. Notwithstanding, all of the final novels fit closely with the theories of Hayden White and other New Historicists, in that they are literature which incorporates historical elements of Twentieth-Century Spain in a manner unlike that of the official history texts produced during the Franco dictatorship. The following chapter

115 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 will analyze these final novels published by Torrente during his lifetime, in addition to his posthumous novel, Doménica, bearing this in mind.

1 Cited in “New Historicism,” Wikipedia, 2 July 2011. Web. 18 Sept. 2011. .

2 Catherine Gallagher and Stephen Greenblatt, eds., Practicing New Historicism (Chicago and London: U of Chicago P, 2000).

3 H. Aram Veeser, ed., The New Historicism (New York: Routledge, 1989). Cited in John Brannigan, “History, Power and Politics in the Literary Artifact: New Historicism,” Introducing Literary Theories. A Guide and Glossary, ed. Julian Wolfreys (Edinburgh, Scotland: Edinburgh UP) 173.

4 See Hayden White, Figural Realism: Studies in the Mimesis Effect (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins UP, 1999).

5 Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, eds. Janet Pérez and Stephen Miller (Boulder, CO: Society of Spanish and Spanish American Studies, 1988).

6 Janet Pérez, Introduction to Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester (Boulder, CO: Society of Spanish and Spanish American Studies, 1988).

7 Janet Pérez, “As novelas ‘menores’ de Torrente á luz do neohistoricismo,” Revista Galega do Ensino 18 (Feb. 1998): 43-71. Pérez also provides an excellent explanation of key concepts of New Historicism in her article, “Text and Context of Carme Riera’s En el último azul,” Letras Peninsulares 12.2-3 (Fall 1999/ Winter 2000): 239-254.

8 Three vols. Madrid: Arión, 1957-1962. Vol. I: El señor llega (1957); Vol. II: Donde da la vuelta el aire (1960); Vol. III: La Pascua triste (1962).

9 Janet Pérez, Introduction to Monographic Review/ Revista Monográfica 19 (2003): 9-27.

10 Max Aub could easily fit within this group, as could several other Spanish writers forced to go into exile at the end of the Spanish Civil War.

11 The official title of the law is “Ley por la que se reconocen derechos y se establecen medidas a favor de quienes padecieron persecución o violencia durante la Guerra Civil y la Dictadura.” According to the Wikipedia entry, the law:

116 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Incluye el reconocimiento de todas las víctimas de la Guerra Civil, la víctimas de la dictadura pero no la apertura de fosas comunes en las que aún yacen los restos de represaliados por los sublevados en la Guerra Civil, realizadas desde entidades privadas (como la Asociación para la Recuperación de la Memoria Histórica—ARMH—y el Foro por la Memoria) o comunidades autónomas. (Cited in “Ley de Memoria Histórica de España,” Wikipedia, 16 Mar 2011. Web. 24 Mar. 2011. )

12 See Fernando Aínsa, “La nueva novela histórica latinoamericana,” Plural 240 (Sept. 1991): 82-85.

13 Originally published in French as La poétique de la prose (Paris: Seuil, 1971).

14 Mercedes Mazquiarán de Rodríguez, “Haunting Voices from Fort Nativity in José Manuel Fajardo’s Carta del fin del mundo,” Monographic Review/ Revista Monográfica 19 (2003): 49-62.

15 The interior citation is from Luis Sepúlveda, “Prólogo,” in José Manuel Fajardo, Carta del fin del mundo (Barcelona: Ediciones B, 1998) 7-10.

16 Antonio Gómez López-Quiñones, “La historia como laberinto textual,” Monographic Review/ Revista Monográfica 19 (2003): 123-138.

17 López-Quiñones briefly cites two articles by Keith Jenkins: “Why Bother with the Past?” Rethinking History 1.1 (1997): 56-66; and “After History,” Rethinking History 3.1 (1999): 7-20. See López-Quiñones 123-24.

18 Kathryn Quinn-Sánchez, “Historical Fiction/ Fictitious History: Boullosa’s Llanto: Novelas imposibles,” Monographic Review/ Revista Monográfica 19 (2003): 153-163.

19 Luis A. Jiménez, “La parodia en la reescritura laberíntica de la historia: Rut, la que huyó de la Biblia de Josefina Leyva,” Monographic Review/ Revista Monográfica 19 (2003): 264-277.

20 Jiménez cites Fernando, Aínsa, “La reescritura de la historia en la nueva narrativa latinoamericana,” Cuadernos Americanos 28 (July-August 1991): 13-31. The internal page numbers refer to the sections of Aínsa’s article which Jiménez paraphrases.

21 The interior citation is from Celia Fernández Prieto, Historia y novela: Poética de la novela histórica (Pamplona: Ediciones Universidad de Navarra, 1998): 40.

117 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

22 The interior citation is from José María Pozuelo, “Realidad, ficción, y semiótica de la cultura,” La novela histórica a finales del siglo XX, eds. José Ramera et al. (Madrid: Visor, 1996) 99.

23 Austin: U of Texas P, 1993.

24 Janet Pérez, “Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, precursor de la ‘nueva novela española,’” La Tabla Redonda Número extraordinario (2010): 175-187.

118 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

CHAPTER V

ANALYSIS

Filomeno, a mi pesar (1988) and Los años indecisos (1997)

Filomeno, a mi pesar, subtitled “Memorias de un señorito descolocado,” roughly

follows events of certain years of Torrente’s life, starting in the early Twentieth Century

and progressing toward the postwar era. Filomeno is considered different from many of

Torrente’s works, in that he utilizes a much drier, more subtle humor than that typically

found in most of his other works. Filomeno won the highly endowed Premio Planeta in

1988, and following its publication Torrente published his remaining novels through

Planeta (not coincidentally, the Premio Planeta was then and continues to be the country’s most highly endowed literary prize). This is the last lengthy tome the Galician

produced during his life: Filomeno contains roughly 440 pages, whereas the novels

published after it all contain 250 pages or less (and some contain as few as 160).

The title character of Filomeno relates his life from early childhood, spending part

of his time in Galicia and the other part in Portugal. Filomeno never feels completely at

home in either place, and symptomatically uses his official Spanish name—Filomeno

Freijomil—while in Galicia but prefers to use a more Portuguese-sounding but unofficial

name—Ademar de Alemcastre (preferred by his class-conscious, aristocratic

grandmother)—when in Portugal. Filomeno reminisces about growing up, attending

university, and eventually getting a job working in a bank in London. He soon meets a

German woman through the bank, and develops a strong romantic interest for her; but

119 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 with the rise of Hitler and the Third Reich in Germany, and with family problems back home, the German love interest must soon leave London and Filomeno to be with her family. Filomeno then moves to Paris, working as a correspondent for a Portuguese newspaper until the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War. After some time, Filomeno leaves Paris to return to Portugal, where he spends the duration of the Spanish Civil War, and during World War II, he returns to London as a war correspondent, staying there during the air raids and finally through the Allied invasion, thereafter publishing a book based on his experiences. At the end Filomeno returns to Galicia, matured and somewhat affected by his experiences abroad.

Janet Pérez notes that Filomeno constitutes a sudden shift in Torrente’s writing, in

that it lacks much of the humor and experimentation which made many of the Galician’s

earlier works popular among readers and critics alike. This critic also points out that,

although this novel is subtitled “Memorias de un señorito descolocado,” that it is still a

work of “fiction—fiction which at times overlaps the autobiographical, and could

conceivably be termed the fictionalized biography of Torrente’s generation, but fiction

nevertheless” (342).1 Pérez also explains that Filomeno is clearly not a masked version

of Torrente: “the major points of contact between Filomeno’s formation and that of his

creator include similarity in dates of birth, the fact that some of Filomeno’s life is spent in

Torrente’s native Galicia, and that Torrente and his persona coincide in spending time in

Madrid in the late 1920’s and Paris in 1936” (344).

The most delightful sections of Filomeno occur late in the novel, after the

protagonist’s more “novelesque” experiences as a foreign correspondent, his life with his

120 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 aristocratic grandmother in Portugal, his international travels, his love interests and various other adventures, when he is eventually relegated to a small, muddy, boring, reactionary, and intolerant/ intolerable backwoods town, where he quickly and repeatedly clashes with the befogged local representatives of civil authority. The sixth and final part of Filomeno, which takes place as Filomeno returns to Spain following World War II, also finds some commonalities between protagonist and author: “His intellectual resistance to reactionary totalitarianism provides the substance for a series of minor

satires and parodies of the regime’s puritanical, Victorian morality, and the narrow- minded rigors of the censorship, which Torrente had experienced already” (348). One particular episode, almost certainly set during the mid forties, would thus chronologically

coincide fairly closely with La muerte del Decano (1992) wherein Torrente satirizes the

crime-solving skills of the local police, whose relevant knowledge is drawn entirely from

their readings of detective novels with dissimilar and even conflicting approaches.2

Unsurprisingly, therefore, the murder remains unresolved. In Filomeno, Torrente’s

broadside sprays all Francoist officialdom from City Hall on down to the parish churches,

as the protagonist goes to battle to force a Christian burial for a devout woman accused of

prostitution when the town’s reactionary forces wish to block her access to the

camposanto in scenes ranging from satire to slapstick, sometimes hilarious but not

exempt of pathos.

The time frame shifts to the first decades of Torrente’s life in Filomeno, rather

than the Nineteenth Century (or earlier, including ancient times) featured in several of his previous works. As Pérez points out, Torrente represents key events in the Twentieth

121 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Century, primarily the Spanish Civil War and World War II, through the experiences of the title character. Or, as Pérez explains, Filomeno is “fiction, masquerading as memoir, comprising an autobiographical substratum interwoven with the plot of the putative memoir, both of which are projected against the broader Spanish and European historical background” (343). And Filomeno’s ability to observe the world around him does not allow him to follow the more self-aggrandizing versions of important historical events, particularly those of the Francoist regime. As Pérez concludes her study on Filomeno, she notes: “Filomeno’s procedures, like those of his creator, are ludic and subtle in their demythologizing thrust. Torrente did not lend his pen to fascist propaganda before, and he does not place it at the service of ideology now” (356). Thus, while Filomeno might lack much of the humor and experimentation of previous Torrente works, it remains true to form in its faithful representation of a crucial period of Twentieth-Century Spain.

Los años indecisos seems to carry the most autobiographical imprint of all of

Torrente’s final novels. Ironically, in an interview conducted roughly a decade before the

publication of Los años, Torrente alluded to a time during his young adulthood to which

he referred as “los años indecisos” (180).3 Torrente recounts this time period:

Pues, económicamente difícil, ¿no? Es decir, yo trabajaba en un periódico de extrema izquierda, que se llamaba La Tierra. Y este periódico tenía la buena costumbre de no pagar. Entonces, mis padres pasaron por Madrid y me aconsejaron que me fuera con ellos. Y, efectivamente, me fui con ellos, y de esto ya hablaremos. El resultado positivo de estos años indecisos, que además yo los llamo cuando pienso en mi vida, en mi pasado, los llamo “años indecisos” y me gustaría escribir un libro titulado así. (180)

Carmen Becerra has also indicated a parallel between Torrente’s real life and that of the unnamed protagonist of Los años,4 discussing points of contact between this novel and an

122 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 account Torrente published in Cotufas del golfo (1986), “Encuentro en ‘el viejo

almacén.’”5 More specifically, the account in Cotufas en el golfo recalls a moment

during the 1980s in which Torrente met a bandoneon player in Buenos Aires and shared

stories with him. He mentions spending time with Ana María Matute in “el viejo

almacén,” implying he is telling a true story, and claims that “Esta historia es verdadera,

aunque inverosímil; increíble, también, como todo lo real” (375). The main point of

interest occurs with the bandoneon player, whom Torrente describes as follows:

Me descubrí en la persona de un bandoneísta, tan parecido que podía ser yo (¿y no lo es metafísicamente?), aunque, visto de cerca, con algunas diferencias: el cabello más blanco, el vientre menos visible, y, en las mejillas, las huellas de una experiencia más dura. [. . .] Aparentemente, es tan difícil que yo me reconozca en él como que él se reconozca en mí, pero no es más que eso, apariencia. Conforme nos vamos contando nuestras vidas, comprendo que cada uno de nosotros hace suyo lo que el otro le cuenta y que por aquel tiempo breve volvemos a ser uno y el mismo; yo, rico de su experiencia; él, de la mía. Yo escribí libros y enseñé a los jóvenes a aprender el pensamiento con la palabra y a descubrir la belleza; él, detrás del tango, como había anunciado, acabó en maestro de bandoneón, pero también en personaje de esos ambientes. Amó a todas las mujeres que yo no pude amar; participó en todas las revoluciones a cuyo margen yo permanecí, y si su puerto final fue la ironía, como pronto se advierte, no llegó a ella por el camino de lo intelectual, sino por el del desencanto. (377)

A situation very similar to the one described by Torrente in Cotufas en el golfo occurs in

the prologue to Los años:

Aquel tío que se parecía a mí tocaba el bandoneón bastante bien. Lo tocaba muy bien, y se parecía a mí en todo, menos en una cosa: que él era calvo, o al menos empezaba a serlo, y yo no. [. . .] Me dijo su nombre después de que yo le había dicho el mío. Coincidíamos en el nombre, pero no del todo. El nombre de él también empezaba a calvear, como su cabeza. Me contó muchas cosas. Yo le conté las mías. A veces, coincidíamos; a veces, nos separábamos. En la vida de él, por ejemplo, había habido muchas mujeres; en la mía, no. Él no se había movido de Buenos Aires: allí había aprendido todo lo que sabía y había sido todo lo

123 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

que era. Yo, en cambio, siempre anduve de la Ceca a la Meca y había sido lo que soy, pero también lo contrario, hasta no ser nada, aquí y allá. (Los años 7-8)

The two descriptions above—the first a real-life account told in Cotufas en el golfo, the second from the beginning of Los años indecisos—contain clear similarities, begging

further the question of whether there might be some autobiographical materials in the last

novel Torrente published before his death.

Similar to Filomeno, Los años indecisos follows the life of an unnamed young

man from Galicia as he takes journalism jobs and hopes to become a writer. The novel

takes place in the 1920s and early 1930s, and the title refers to the uneasiness felt in a

country then experiencing socio-political upheaval. The protagonist recounts taking a job

in the nearby provincial capital of Oviedo (where, coincidentally, Torrente had spent

some time during his early adulthood), and presents the people he met there. He relates

his aspirations of moving to Madrid as a writer, and his eventual success in doing so, but

also reveals that he can never be away from his native Galicia for too long. Perhaps as a

result of his naïveté, or perhaps because of his Galician “saudade,” the protagonist meets

with failure after failure in the various places where he attempts to establish himself. He

finally decides to leave Spain for Argentina, eager to establish a life for himself in the

New World. This is interesting primarily because the only place in which a Torrente

character considers or adopts this historically popular “solution” is here and in Javier

Mariño. Also interesting is the postmodern narrative strategy undertaken by the

protagonist-narrator, who repeatedly admits to uncertainty concerning whether the things

he says did or did not happen. The past he narrates which leads up to the Spanish Civil

124 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

War thus becomes a blur, and the protagonist leaves it up to the reader to decide whether the events occurred as he has narrated them. Likewise noteworthy is the very postmodern beginning/ end involving the trip to Argentina, where the alter ego of the protagonist has presumably spent his life, and the protagonist (who goes there at the end) is unsure whether “yo no soy yo” or it is a dream or some bad joke.

Los años indecisos could be a full-circle on the “portrait of the writer as a young

man,” reflecting, in a sense, Torrente’s first novel, Javier Mariño. The time period is

slightly different, yet in both novels a young optimistic protagonist must face various

setbacks, admitting defeat in the end. As he had done with Filomeno, Torrente

incorporates several autobiographical aspects in Los años indecisos. Janet Pérez has

discussed these at length, and has provided a list of characteristics which several of the protagonists in Torrente’s literature share with their author.6 They include: similar age,

similar stature, similar ethnicity/ origin (from Galicia, typically a coastal city or a port), a

father in the Navy, similar education (highly intelligent with connections to intellectual circles, yet not university-educated), similar Bohemian lifestyle with low-paying jobs and

periods of unemployment, similar professional interest in writing (including the arts,

theatre, avant-garde movements, journalism, etc.), and similar problems with authority

figures (such as censors and editors), and similar ideology (typically liberal, galleguista,

and/ or Socialist and anarchist leanings) (“Writing, Writers and the Writer” 69).

The list of shared characteristics above is applicable to characters in roughly one

dozen of Torrente’s works, establishing a pattern well before the publication of Los años

indecisos near the end of the Galician writer’s life. However, Los años indecisos

125 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 contrasts with Filomeno in that the events of Los años indecisos completely pre-date the

Spanish Civil War. The unnamed protagonist spends his late teens and early twenties

working at a newspaper and attempting (unsuccessfully) to finish a university career,

eventually emigrating to Argentina just before the establishment of the Second Republic.

The former elements of the protagonist’s timeline mirror those of Torrente’s, although

divergence occurs in the latter: Torrente studied while working at low-paying newspaper

jobs, but left Spain shortly before the beginning of the Spanish Civil War to study the

doctorate in Paris. Nevertheless, Pérez concludes that “These resemblances suffice to

authorize consideration of the anonymous protagonist of Los años as an autobiographical mask of the author” (65). Pérez also notes the fact that the narrator of Los años indecisos is younger than any other narrator—autobiographical, semi-autobiographical, or otherwise—in Torrente’s literary works, with the exception of the narrator of Dafne y

ensueños (1983). This critic comments that “It is perhaps fitting that a novelist whose works become progressively more ‘youthful’ should devote his last novel to the circumstances and environment of his youth, and that this youthful alter ego in that final narrative should be the only one to undertake a voyage of no return” (“Writing, Writers and the Writer” 70).

Carmen Becerra shares this opinion, noting that there are too many similarities between Torrente and the protagonist of Los años to dismiss as pure coincidence.

However, Becerra also opines that this is another of Torrente’s Cervantine literary games:

126 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

que sucede con la escritura autobiográfica, en la autoficcional el objetivo del novelista parece ser diferente: hablar de sí mismo sin responsabilizarse de lo narrado. (“Juegos de la autoficción” 87)

Becerra does classify Los años as compatible with the definition of “autoficción” coined

by Alicia Molero.7

From the prologue of Los años indecisos, Torrente experiments with

narratological questions of authorship and reliability of the narrator. In it the narrator

states that the two of them could be brothers, sharing many characteristics and even their

name although with some differences. The narrator then says, “Era difícil que nuestras

vidas coincidiesen. Por eso él me contó la suya, y yo le conté la mía. Yo escribí la suya,

porque mi oficio de siempre es escribir, pero ¡vaya usted a saber lo que él hizo con la

mía! A lo mejor la olvidó” (Los años 8). In this manner, it is revealed that the narrator of

the prologue has shared his story with someone else, and that he is sharing that person’s

story. Thus, from Chapter I on, the story of the unnamed protagonist “yo” is recounted

by another, similarly unnamed entity. As mentioned before, this echoes Torrente’s

encounter with the bandoneon player in Buenos Aires, accounted by the author in Cotufas

en el golfo and examined at length by Becerra in her study on Los años.8 Becerra also

likens it to another account by Torrente, this time appearing in the prologue to his Obra

completa (1977). In this account Torrente discusses a chance encounter he had with

Ashverus, “el Judío Errante,” in New York. The encounter is echoed later by the narrator

of La isla de los jacintos cortados (1980).9

The questions of authorship and authorial control of the text are also pondered by

Pérez, who reminds the reader that Torrente has visited the theme of the writer who lacks

127 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 control of his literary works several times before, most notably in Fragmentos de

Apocalipsis. According to Pérez, this element “reappears with a twist in Los años, suggesting that the autobiographer similarly lacks control over his narrative. Once told, his tale is (here quite literally) rewritten by others” (“Writing, Writers and the Writer”

67). The results of Torrente’s playing with conventional narrative style and literary

theory “goes beyond suggesting the death of the author, literally erasing the author (who has been reduced to stenographer) and neutralizing the narrator whose narrative is narrated by a voice which may not be/ logically cannot be his own” (67). The focalization also accounts for the uncertainties introduced in the narration, summed up by the closing lines: “Yo dije adiós a aquellas tierras. O no les dije adiós: no lo recuerdo bien” (Los años 235).

The nameless narrator of Los años indecisos seems remarkably like Torrente

during his early adulthood. The one great exception is that the literary character presumably leaves permanently, whereas Torrente stayed in Spain during the Franco dictatorship. A closer reading reveals that, although the character Filomeno initially seems like the antithesis of Torrente, his attitudes and some of his actions (particularly

near the end of the novel) become increasingly like those of his creator. This suggests

that his ideology has evolved over time, in response to people he has encountered and

events he has witnessed. In this sense Filomeno—particularly as he is portrayed at the

end of the novel—quite possibly could reflect Torrente during his younger years,

affiliated with Falange only out of necessity and never truly adherent to the Franco

regime’s ideology. Most importantly, Filomeno and Los años indecisos provide an

128 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 insightful portrayal of the most crucial period of the history of Spain during the first half of the Twentieth Century.

129 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Crónica del rey pasmado (1989) and Doménica (1999)

Crónica del rey pasmado takes place in Spain’s historical past, and as the title suggests, follows events in the life of a monarch. Spanish critics have suggested that the time period depicted in the novel is roughly the Seventeenth Century. More specifically,

Richard Curry posits that, though “El tiempo en que se desarrolla la acción de la novela nunca está claramente especificado [. . .] no es difícil adivinar que la novela sitúa el presente narrativo a comienzos del reinado de Felipe IV, quien reinó de 1621 hasta 1665”

(La Tabla Redonda 5, 21).10 The novel satirizes the monarchy as institution, the members of the aristocracy, and the Church, spoofing how most of the members of the aristocracy and the Church work diligently—notwithstanding their mutual struggle to control the Monarch—to keep the King from seeing his Queen naked. Two factions or more operate in the Palace, each with its own agenda: the hierarchy of the Church and the nobility. In each group are those whose main interest is manipulating the King for their own benefit, and those who are concerned with what is best for the country (they do not see eye to eye). Some, who favor the King, view it as being in the highest national interest to ensure there be a royal heir, while others would prefer to prevent that.

Peripherally, there is an ongoing struggle between the Church and the State, in which the

Church has previously held the upper hand, but “royalists” have been gaining ground, favoring a much stronger crown (this will continue through the Eighteenth Century). In

Spain after Carlos V (of the Holy Roman Empire; Carlos I of Spain) and Felipe II, the

King was typically fairly helpless against a much stronger Church. What Torrente shows is the huge amount of scheming, and the factionalism, on both sides, plus the King’s

130 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 helplessness. If not for Torrente’s illustration of this ongoing class struggle, Crónica

might be dismissed as a fairly insipid bedroom comedy, in danger of never getting to the

punch line. Gonzalo Navajas has characterized the novel as an anti-epic, pointing out

that “aparece en Crónica la banalidad de la vida de todos los días en una corte que sólo

conserva la estéril apariencia de grandeza de un pasado que ya ha dejado de significar en

el presente” (Tabla Redonda 5, 3).11 Meanwhile, Richard Curry deems that the novel:

pertenece a esa categoría de obras contemporáneas que no escamotean el referente histórico, sino que lo postulan abiertamente [. . .]. Crónica del rey pasmado presenta características típicas del estilo narrativo de Torrente: ironía, sátira, humor, burla: juegos con la realidad y la fantasía, con la historia y la literatura; personajes libres, algo extravagantes. Torrente entretiene y se entretiene. (La Tabla Redonda 5, 16-17)

The plot of Crónica includes a character who might be the Devil, who decrees that

the outcome of two important battles between the Spanish and other countries will depend upon whether the King follows protocol and does not gaze upon his wife naked, or whether he breaks the protocol. After Filomeno, Crónica might be considered a return

to form for Torrente: in direct contrast to Filomeno’s dry humor, Crónica is unabashedly

satirical, ridiculing the nobility of the Seventeenth Century and the machinations whereby

they seek to protect their way of life. Richard Curry has pondered the significance of

Crónica for the contemporary Spanish society into which the novel was published:

A un nivel simbólico-alegórico, es un reflejo de un período histórico de caos y confusión en las contradicciones inherentes de lo filosófico- religioso (al mismo tiempo que apunta a una época histórica contemporánea que se caracteriza por el cuestionamiento de las relaciones tradicionales entre hombres y mujeres, como en la década de los ochenta en España, en particular, y en el mundo occidental, en general). (Tabla Redonda 5, 22)

131 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Similarly, Mechthild Albert questions the possible parallels between the historical past, treated in Crónica, and the Franco dictatorship, when she states:

Crónica was quite successfully adapted as a movie, El rey pasmado, in 1991. Torrente’s

son, Gonzalo Torrente Malvido, collaborated on the screenplay and Imanol Uribe

directed.

The opening narration of Crónica presents a good example of a technique

Torrente has utilized numerous times in his literary work:

La madrugada de aquel domingo, tantos de octubre, fue de milagros, maravillas y sorpresas, si bien hubiera, como siempre, desacuerdo entre testigos y testimonios. Más exacto sería, seguramente, decir que todo el mundo habló de ellos, aunque nadie los viera; pero como la exactitud es imposible, más vale dejar las cosas como las cuentan y contaron. (Crónica 7)

Here the Galician has provided a vague time and place clearly in the historical past but whose specific details are not easily identifiable, thus leaving the novel open to a more allegorical reading. While some of the characters and their actions seem firmly rooted in the distant past, they nevertheless compel the reader to form possible parallels to the present. As the above narration implies, the novel begins with a tumultuous event. Most likely an earthquake, this event reputedly includes an unearthly dragon that has split open the street and is attempting to rise up and attack the city. Most accounts of the event given by townspeople border on the supernatural, befitting of a more superstitious, less

132 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 scientifically and/or technologically advanced, populace. According to one soldier’s account, “lo que pudo contemplar, atónito o desorbitado, fue una gigantesca boa que rodeaba al alcázar, por la parte que se apoya en la tierra o coincide con ella, y parecía apretar el edificio con ánimo de derribarlo, o al menos de estrujarlo” (8). The release of sulfurous gases leads them to believe demons have escaped from their infernal prison to wreak havoc on the town:

al parecer, salían de la grieta (de la sima, según los primeros testigos, desconocidos) gases sulfurosos, por lo que todo el mundo pensó, y con razón, que en el fondo de la grieta empezaba el infierno, sobre todo, si se tiene en cuenta que, con los gases, salían rugidos de dolor y blasfemias espantosas; pero cuando la gente empezó a juntarse y echar su cuarto a espadas, la sima ya no lo era, y no olía peor que la misma calle. Se conoce que los gases se habían agotado. (9)

The narrator implies that the aforementioned events are the direct result of recent actions of the King. He has spent the night with Marfisa, the best—and most expensive—courtesan in town, leaving the King “pasmado,” as the title of the novel implies, though he does not even possess the money required to reimburse Marfisa for her services (“No los tengo. Nunca he tenido diez ducados” [14], he remarks).13 Word of the King’s recent activity spreads quickly, which causes some worries among members of the clergy. The concern centers around the King’s “carnal distractions,” and how they might affect his ability to help the country avoid a possible defeat, either to the

Dutch in battle or by the English due to their intercepting the gold and silver coming to the country by ship. Gonzalo Navajas considers Marfisa as the pivotal character of

Crónica, explaining:

Es importante destacar que Marfisa es la contrafigura de la Inquisición. Ella afirma la libertad sexual y la independencia del sujeto para la

133 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

realización de sus deseos por encima de la normativa de la Iglesia. Posee, además, el poder del conocimiento y el saber que contrastan con la ignorancia de la Iglesia. Una prostituta en los márgenes de la sociedad se transforma en la pieza clave de la deconstrucción de la versión de la sexualidad de la Iglesia. (Tabla Redonda 5, 8-9)

Once back at the palace, the King orders one of his servants to bring him “las

llaves del cuarto prohibido” (Crónica 24), a secret chamber containing artwork collected

by the King’s grandfather but not approved by the Inquisition, mostly due to its sexual

nature. He must make his way through a veritable labyrinth of corridors and ascend into

one of the far towers so that he may spy upon what be comparable to a secret collection

of pornography, becoming particularly transfixed by a painting depicting Zeus’s coming to Danaë in the form of golden rain, in which Danaë “tenía unos muslos largos y un

cuerpo dorado, semejante al de Marfisa. El Rey quedó ante él, como pasmado, durante

mucho tiempo” (26-27). Though seemingly unimportant, the restrictions placed on the

King with regards to seeing his Queen naked or visiting certain areas of the palace hints at a much larger issue for the monarch: “This limitation is emblematic of other restrictions of personal freedom and power to make decisions (i.e., of hidden reasons why

the powerful may not be at liberty to resolve certain problems or make specific changes)”

(Pérez, “The Impotence of Power” 167).

Meanwhile, the Grand Inquisitor summons Padre Rivadesella, to hear what he has to say about the report of the dragon. The Grand Inquisitor tells Padre Rivadesella of the

King’s visit to a courtesan, and reminds him of seemingly interminable threats to the

kingdom by other nations: “el peligro nos viene de Inglaterra, de Francia, de los Países

Bajos, de Alemania, y de Turquía, además” (35). The Grand Inquisitor’s paranoia

134 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 revolves around potential enemies to the King and, by extension, the country. Padre

Villaescusa perhaps represents the most extreme of the multiple factions of the church portrayed in Crónica. Villaescusa does not hesitate to hurl accusations, suggesting “que

se saque de palacio al confesor del Rey, conocido judío, y que se meta en las prisiones

del Santo Tribunal a esa Marfisa [. . .] por sospechas de endemoniamiento” (37).

Furthermore, when Padre Villaescusa learns the King plans to visit his Queen and see her in the nude, he does not hesitate to act:

cuando el Rey se acercó a los aposentos de la Reina, con ánimo de entrar, él se hallaba delante. Y cuando el Rey alargó la mano hacia el picaporte, la cruz se le atravesó ante la puerta, en ángulo inclinado sobre el eje vertical, y en los ojos encendidos del padre Villaescusa pudo leer el Rey un veto indiscutible. (44)

The King can only offer a meek, “Quiero ver a la Reina desnuda” (44), but Villaescusa

refuses to allow him passage to see her.

Padre Villaescusa is by no means the only member of the clergy who will stop at

nothing to keep the royal couple apart. Various characters of Crónica seem to share the

opinion that:

No sólo los protocolos de la corte se oponen a semejante disparate, sino que también lo impiden las leyes de Dios y de la Iglesia. El varón puede acceder a la mujer con fines de procreación y, si sus humores se lo exigen, para calmarlos, pero jamás con intenciones livianas, como lo sería la de contemplar desnuda a la propia esposa. (53)

This follows the Church’s stance that sex for any reason other than procreation is strictly

verboten. Furthermore, since the Church exercises a considerable amount of control over

the people, what ecclesiastical representatives say goes. For example, the Grand

Inquisitor’s servant, Diego, comments that: “Le aseguro, Excelencia, que la gente habría

135 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 puesto fuego al Alcázar si el fraile se lo hubiera ordenado, pero se limitó a organizar procesiones a deshora, una en un barrio, otra en otro, y así, con cantos penitenciales y él mismo al frente de alguna de ellas arrastrando una cruz” (58). The Grand Inquisitor remarks that “Los viejos principios, Diego, están pidiendo vigencia, los tiempos cambian y la gente piensa distinto” (60).

In a meeting of clergy members, Padre Villaescusa opines that the King’s sins of spending the night with a courtesan and desiring to see the Queen naked will have deleterious effects for the country. The Grand Inquisitor interrupts: “Habíamos quedado en si el Rey tiene o no derecho a ver desnuda a la Reina, y en que si esto es o no pecado”

(82), urging each to chime in. Padre Almeida concludes that the King “tiene derecho y que no es pecado [. . .], afirmo no sólo esto, sino la conveniencia de que suceda para que en el matrimonio de los Reyes, no como tales sino como cristianos, se realice la Gracia del Señor” (81). He also proposes that no less than two separate comisiones be formed to decide whether such a thing should be permitted.14 Padre Villaescusa vehemently

disagrees with this stance, provoking Padre Almeida to reply:

Quemar judíos, brujas y moriscos; quemar herejes; atentar contra la libertad de los pueblos; hacer esclavos a los hombres; explotar su trabajo con impuestos que no pueden pagar; pensar que los hombres son distintos cuando Dios los hizo iguales. . . ¿Quieren vuestras paternidades que prosiga en la enumeración? (85)

The reader might take this to be a criticism of the way the Church and Monarchy

operated during the time period in question, although Torrente’s sense of humor often

includes poking fun at the machinations of both the establishment and those who

controlled it.

136 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

The point taken, the Grand Inquisitor then summons the Conde de la Peña

Andrada to weigh in on the matter. The Conde informs the clergy how he helped arrange the meeting between the King and Marfisa. When asked whether he believes the King’s desire to see the Queen in the nude corresponds to the night he spent with Marfisa, the

Conde replies: “Creo, reverencia, que es efecto de esta causa. Un efecto lógico. Y necesario, además. Los jóvenes que andan por el mundo no deben ser inocentes, sino experimentados. ¿Y qué menos que pedir un esposo que saber cómo es el cuerpo de su esposa?” (93). Furthermore, the Conde states that half the women of the world go naked, asking that Padre Almeida confirm this from his years as a missionary in the Americas.

The Conde further conjectures that, “No sabemos cómo está en el paraíso la gente que lo ha merecido, pero sospecho que no se habrán llevado sus ropas consigo” (96), leaving the room of clergymen aghast.

Outside the meetings, a more rational perspective dominates. The Queen seeks the counsel of her attendant, Mademoiselle Colette, inquiring what she would do. Colette replies, “Desnudarme en la cama, sin pensarlo” (105), adding that “Desde que tengo uso de razón, Majestad, no he dejado de desnudarme cuando hubo ocasión” (105-106). The

Queen inquires if this causes Colette to feel ashamed and the latter replies, “Por estos corredores no prospera la decencia” (105). The Queen then decides to meet the King in the nude.

As the Queen decides to give herself to her spouse, the King has sought his confessor, Padre Fernán de Valdivielso. The King details to Padre Fernán that he has spent the night with a courtesan and now wishes to see the Queen naked. The King tells

137 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 him that he does not share a bed with the Queen: “Sólo me dejan verla de vez en cuando, y dormir con ella cuando hay que preñarla porque así conviene al Estado. Pero eso no lo decido yo, sino esos que mandan” (117). The reader again perceives the King’s powerlessness in this matter, which again recalls Pérez’s article on the “impotence of power.” The King asks whether seeing the Queen naked is considered a mortal sin, to which Padre Fernán replies:

Eso lo dicen lo que no entienden ni de ese pecado ni de otros. Comer del árbol del bien y del mal nunca quiso decir fornicar. Eso, seguramente, lo venían haciendo Adán y Eva con toda regularidad desde que se encontraron juntos la primera vez. Estoy seguro de que fue lo primero que hicieron. Eso lo lógico, ¿no? Para eso los había hecho Dios. (118)

This passage shares intertextuality with Torrente’s version of the Don Juan myth, into which the author inserts a section dedicated to biblical story of Adam and Eve, adding what might be deemed a pep talk between Creator and Creature regarding sexuality.15

More importantly, however, Padre Fernán absolves the King, concluding, “Sólo le recomiendo que si fracasa esta noche, espere a otra, y en ningún caso se le ocurra volver de putas” (119).

The night of the meeting of the King and Queen arrives, and despite various setbacks and complications, the two succeed in their plan to spend the night together au naturel (with the help of the Conde de la Peña Andrada and Padre Almeida). Meanwhile, the Grand Inquisitor summons Padre Almeida, warning him that Padre Villaescusa and his allies seek retribution against Almeida for his intervention with the King and Queen.

The Grand Inquisitor adds that “también piden la celebración urgente de un gran auto de fe, en que se quemen sin dilación todos los judaizantes, moriscos, herejes y brujos que

138 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 puedan hallarse a mano” (203). Padre Almeida tells the Grand Inquisitor that, “a estas horas, el Rey y la Reina, Nuestros Señores, se encuentran juntos y sin vigilancia en un lugar de la corte. Espero que por fin se hayan visto desnudos” (205). Before the two part ways, Padre Almeida asks whether the Grand Inquisitor believes in God, to which he replies, “Hay muchos libros escritos sobre Dios, pero todos caben en una palabra: o sí, o no” (206). Richard Curry astutely observes that this conversation, between Padre

Almeida and the Grand Inquisitor, “gira en torno a la ironía socarrona tan típica [de

Torrente]. Con este tipo de diálogo, la novela polemiza la Historia al mismo tiempo que entretiene al lector con su combinación de ingenio y humorismo” (La Tabla Redonda 5,

18).

After the King and Queen’s spending the night together, word arrives from

Flanders and Cádiz, in the form of a letter from each: “decían que la flota había llegado entera a la bahía, si bien cuatro fragatas de escolta seguían peleando con los ingleses en muy mala situación. [. . .] En el Segundo despacho le decían que las tropas españolas habían obtenido una gran Victoria sobre los rebeldes protestantes” (210-211).

Furthermore, “[l]a victoria aconteció hace más de una semana, y la flota arribó a Cádiz anteayer, justo el día en que el Rey se fue de putas” (Crónica 211). This pleases all who hear the news except Padre Villaescusa, who notes that, “Ahora, Excelencia, convendría celebrar el triunfo con un buen auto de fe. Ochenta o noventa herejes quemados sería una buena muestra de gratitud al Señor” (211). The discussion is interrupted when “en la puerta del monasterio aparecieron los Reyes, muy cogidos del brazo y con rostro sonriente. Todo el mundo comprendió lo que había pasado” (212).

139 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Crónica comes to a markedly more satisfying end than do other novels by

Torrente (such as La princesa durmiente va a la escuela or Quizá nos lleve el viento al

infinito, for example). The entire series of events prompts one character to write a

décima. However, there is no elevated, sacrosanct depiction of the victory of the

monarchs’ love for each other in the poetry which helps to close the novel, claiming that

God had really intended they be able to witness each other in the nude. The décima,

replete with bawdy humor and saucy imagery, fits better among works by Cervantes (to

whom Torrente was a life-long disciple), Rabelais, or Chaucer (some of the racier of the

Canterbury Tales might come to mind).

Crónica can be analyzed as an example of the New Historical Novel, meeting several of the characteristics 16 It takes place during a time not experienced by the

author, and it offers a carnivalesque view of the Spanish court of centuries past. Also

fitting of the New Historical Novel and with New Historicism in general, Crónica treats a

moment in the historical past (purposefully not identified by the narrator, and debated by

critics) with little notion of elevated, “epic” style of recounting events. Just like many

other New Historical Novels, Torrente’s novel casts a humorous, even satirical eye on

society and events in Spain’s past. The present-day reader might too easily dismiss

Crónica for having a somewhat flimsy premise—the king, supposedly the most powerful

person in the country, wishes to see his wife in the nude, only to have his attempts

thwarted repeatedly. Yet, this is precisely the point Torrente is trying to make. Not only

does it fit with tenets of New Historicism and the New Historical Novel for Torrente to

portray the King as being essentially powerless to do even the most mundane things. It

140 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 also fits with the theme of the “impotence of power”17 found in several of Torrente’s

works, including Lope de Aguirre, El golpe de estado de Guadalupe Limón, Ifigenia, Off-

Side, La princesa durmiente va a la escuela, La rosa de los vientos, and Las islas

extraordinarias). The ones who truly possess the power in Crónica are the members of

the nobility and the Church who try to manipulate the royal couple for their own

purposes. Thus, they are the ones Torrente satirizes in Crónica, rather than the somewhat

young, fragile (and easily duped) King, who appears as more of an underdog.

The posthumous novel Doménica marks a significant departure from Torrente’s

previous novels, including the last novels Torrente published during the 1980s—

Filomeno, a mi pesar (1988) and Crónica del rey pasmado (1989). In the entire decade

preceding Doménica, Torrente’s novels have focused on aspects of Spanish history.

Whereas Crónica del rey pasmado is set in the Seventeenth Century, the rest of the novels from Filomeno to Los años indecisos take place during the Twentieth Century.

Doménica, however, is a fairy tale seemingly from another place and time, replete with

magical beings such as fairies, witches, and ogres. The child protagonist has the ability

to create people, things, and even whole villages just by thinking of them, and to change

street musicians into noblemen and beggars into kings. Considering that the first part

consists of nine chapters, the second part of five, and the third and final part of only one

chapter, it is easy to understand why some might claim (as early commentators theorized)

that the work was left unfinished at his death, and that Torrente never completed what

was to become his posthumous novel. However, since La boda de Chon Recalde also consists of three parts—containing nine, four, and three chapters, respectively (though

141 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 roughly 100 pages more than Doménica)—perhaps this is not as simple an indicator of the degree to which Torrente finished (or did not finish) writing the novel before his death. While Doménica ends in something resembling a conclusion, it nevertheless leaves the story open to continuation. Perhaps Doménica is a parody of the fairy tale, or

a parody of the novela caballeresca, but Doménica may also be an amalgam of bedtime stories Torrente might have told his children and/or grandchildren, sprinkled with characteristically Galician fantastic elements. More analysis is needed to decipher what

Torrente truly intended to convey with this enigmatic short and seemingly truncated novel.

Doménica begins in medias res, with the monologue of an unidentified first- person narrator who may be an adolescent (or child older than Doménica), and in any

case makes many childlike observations. With the sudden appearance of a girl who has

no idea who she is or where she comes from, the reader can sense a shift from recent

Torrente novels (which, since Filomeno, mostly take place during different periods of

Spanish history and, with the exception of Crónica del rey pasmado, are firmly rooted in the Twentieth Century). This is by no means the first time Torrente has produced a novel in which fantastical or even magical elements abound—the “fantastic trilogy” certainly contains such elements, as do novels such as Dafne y ensueños, Quizá nos lleve el viento

al infinito, or even Yo no soy yo, evidentemente. Yet, considering that the preceding

seven novels all have a historical slant, Doménica is strikingly different from its immediate predecessors. Torrente had remarked that he wished to publish what became his final novels (i.e., from Crónica del rey pasmado on) rather quickly, preferring to keep

142 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 them succinct. When asked in an interview why he had opted for this shift in his writing style, Torrente responded: “Tal vez se debe a que, cuando me pongo a escribir, tengo miedo de no poder terminar, tengo miedo de morirme antes” (82).18 With those novels

out of the way, perhaps Doménica marks yet another turning point in the Galician’s

publishing career, an opportunity to publish one last thing before he died which did not

have a historical slant. Unfortunately, Torrente died before being able to publish this

novel, and it remains unclear whether he finished it. There was also speculation that someone else had finished the final part.

The narrator conveys some aspects of Doménica which the reader will find can be explicated with Todorov’s definition of the Fantastic.19 Not only has Doménica appeared

practically out of thin air, but she “tenía unas costumbres bastante raras, aunque no nos

sorprendiese, por su manera también rara de llegar” (15). These include such things as

sleeping standing up with her clothing on and eating meals backwards, beginning with

dessert. Even more curious is the passage of time, relative to Doménica. The narrator

relates that time does not pass at the same rate for Doménica as it does for everybody

else: what could be a matter of minutes to the average person could seem like decades to

Doménica, or vice versa. Oddly, as Doménica’s concept of time changes, so does the

effect its passage has on her. Furthermore, not only does Doménica not follow standard

hours, but as the passage of time changes according to her watch, so does the size of her

body. According to the narrator, “cada vez que las horas marcadas por su reloj eran más

pequeñas que las nuestras, Doménica conservaba su tamaño natural, pero cuando las

horas eran grandes, ella también crecía hasta ser de alta como una persona mayor, más o

143 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 menos. O, al menos, así la veíamos” (16). Thus goes the description of the title character from the first chapter of Torrente’s posthumous novel, although the narrator—by a frequent process of “unwriting”—continually undermines most of what s/he has already related concerning the strange apparition, placing in doubt the accuracy or veracity of a considerable portion of his or her narrative. Most significantly, Doménica not only materializes seemingly out of the air, but she exists to some extent in another dimension where time does not correspond with that of the “normal world,” and still more strangely, her nature seems to fluctuate according to the hours. In less than five pages, Torrente has established that this novel will not be anything like the half dozen novels which preceded it.

Based on their short acquaintance of her, the narrator recounts that “Doménica era tan distinta de nosotros que llegamos a considerarla un bicho raro” (17). Just as quickly as she arrived, Doménica must leave to continue what appears to be a personal quest. In a scene which might closely resemble other fantastic and/or magical beings in literature and film (and which might readily bring to mind characters such as Mary Poppins and her flying broom), Doménica leaves by climbing out the window onto a what appears to be a magical ladder, pushing off, and disappearing into the night. This presupposes a change of narrator inasmuch as the first was a member of the family living in the house at which

Doménica originally materialized; the narrative consciousness presumably ceases to be a juvenile, and there is a less naïve tone to the subsequent consciousness, which occasionally exhibits a bit of skepticism or irony.

144 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Doménica uses the magical ladder to arrive at the house of Paco, who is in the process of being robbed by three people with whom he is playing cards. Paco warns

Doménica not to play cards with them, explaining that the others are cheating by playing with marked cards. Paco describes the other three men—Juan, Pedro, and Manuel—as

“truhanes que han venido aquí a llevarse mi dinero. Porque todo ese dinero que ve usted sobre la mesa es mío, y me lo han sacado con diversos pretextos” (23). When Doménica confirms this, she punishes the three men by turning them into balloons; she then offers the money to Paco. Noteworthy is the fact that the other three men—now revealed to employ dubious methods in the card game—are the only ones Doménica transforms into balloons. One might say Doménica had chosen to punish them from having tried to circumvent the rules of the card game.

Despite her ability to right wrongs committed by others, Doménica reveals herself to be quite immature, and at times, impatient. She offers to let Paco accompany her on her adventures, yet when they enter the forest, Doménica immediately forgets what the two were doing. Paco then criticizes her for dragging him out to the forest, where he should have never followed her in the first place. Upon his announcing that he will simply return home, Doménica loses her temper with him, rendering him literally incapable of finding his way back. He then decides to follow Doménica to wherever she might lead. Not only is Doménica childlike, but it can be inferred that Paco is not a mature adult; he acts more like a big child.

Doménica then finds a circle of beech trees, noting that the first letter of their name has escaped: “todas las haches de las hayas se habían escapado, quedando sólo las

145 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 hayas sin las haches. Afortunadamente, las únicas haches que se fugaron fueron las de las hayas reunidas en corro, porque no habría nada más aburrido y difícil de imaginar que un bosque de ayas” (31). The investigator seeking to elucidate the nature of this enigmatic novel should note the growing sophistication of the narrative discourse, especially when compared with the initial juvenile narrative perspective/ voice, and subsequently with the second narrative discourse, lasting through the episode of the gamblers, which utilizes an expanded vocabulary. Yet once the narrator makes the observation concerning the missing aitches (letters h), the hayas (beech trees) have magically transformed into ayas (governesses), leaving a group of aitches to escape into the forest. Doménica describes them as ugly witches—“porque a todas les iba saliendo una nariz ganchuda y una barbilla delgada y prominente que casi se juntaba con la nariz”

(32)—telling them that, once their aitches return, they will be trees again. At that point,

“recobraréis vuestra antigua prestancia, vuestro misterio y vuestra belleza, y dejaréis de ser brujas, que tanto os afea” (32). She seems to have known these now-women from when they were trees, as she says that “debo deciros que de todas las proposiciones que ibais a hacerme cuando erais hayas y no ayas, la única que acepto es la del castillo del ogro y ninguno de los otros castillos y de las casitas del bosque encantadas” (32). As if sensing doubt among her audience, Doménica informs them:

porque el ogro es un chico guapo y siempre es preferible su compañía a la de un príncipe tonto o a la de unos enanos pendientes de su trabajo y no de la chica que tienen en casa, a la que no hacen pizca de caso, esto os lo aseguro yo que soy una chica y los conozco bien, porque yo misma los he inventado, así como al ogro, que siempre son feos, menos éste inventado por mí, que va a protegerme en lugar de comerme, que es lo que hacen los ogros inventados por otros autores. (32-33)

146 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Apparently, Doménica not only has the power to change things and people, but to invent them as well. According to her remark concerning ogres created by other authors,

Doménica has had some exposure to children’s literature (at least, she does via Torrente, who without a doubt, has had a great deal of exposure, and who probably could not resist the temptation to insert a metaliterary comment in this novel). However, while she observes all witches and ogres are ugly, the ogre she has created is (by virtue of being her creation) beautiful. Likewise ironic is the restoration of the aitches (letters h) to the witches, who then return to their natural state as trees (the ayas become hayas once again): “Doménica siguió sentada y contempló con regocijo la transformación de aquellas siete brujas poco respetables en hayas respetabilísimas; como que cada una tenía un letrero que decía: ‘Respetadme’” (36). The level of narrative discourse has risen, more or less paralleling the ongoing maturation of Doménica.

Having seen the trees restored to their former selves, Doménica is free to continue on her journey. She contents herself by building a castle for the ogre she has created

(who now refers to himself as Julio, el Feo). Much to her chagrin, the ogre tries to eat

Doménica. She then thinks that:

aquel ogro, que ella había imaginado amable y guapo, era guapo, eso sí, pero no era amable, con lo cual al ogro le pasaba lo que a ciertos personajes literarios, que se independizan del autor y viven por su cuenta. Al menos eso dicen, como pudo comprobar Doménica cuando hizo las pruebas oportunas. (37-38)

Doménica then notices that the ogre’s body has a door and a window leading to his stomach, which the ogre seems to have invented of his own accord (38-39). She then climbs in the ogre’s stomach, which gives her a place to stay and a traveling

147 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 companion—even if the ogre proves less than capable of maintaining a decent conversation with her.

Doménica quickly becomes distracted by troops she sees, causing the ogre’s castle to disappear. The ogre, on the other hand, does not disappear just because

Doménica has stopped thinking about him: “como hemos dicho, se había independizado y vivía por su cuenta, de tal manera que se le amplió el bigote y empezó a crecerle pelo por toda la cara y a ser un ogro como los demás” (41). The fact that the ogre has taken on a life of his own, independent of his creator, brings to mind an earlier Torrente work,

Fragmentos de Apocalipsis, in which the literary creations of the writer-protagonist

likewise take on lives of their own. Thus, the window and door in the ogre’s stomach

also disappear, as does his castle.

Taking pity on him, Doménica decides to talk with the prince of the area to gain

permission to construct a castle for the ogre. Seeing that she has experience in dealing

with ogres, the prince asks Doménica to help him in combating all ogres. The prince and

his troops, with help from Doménica, easily win the battle. Doménica then leaves to

continue her journey. She soon encounters a tortoise, and she stops to talk with it. The

tortoise informs Doménica that:

en realidad no era tortuga sino una princesa encantada y que estaba esperando el beso de alguien que parecía un ogro, pero era un príncipe, revestido de ogro [. . .]. Añadió que el ogro que esperaba se llamaba Julio, el Feo, a lo cual respondió Doménica que ella lo había inventado y que no recordaba haberle metido dentro ningún príncipe. (51-52)

148 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

The tortoise tells the girl that she will only find true happiness once the two of them are together, having shed their respective guises by sharing a kiss and getting married as the prince and princess they truly are. Yet none of this matters to Doménica:

resulta que a Doménica la felicidad, el beso y el matrimonio le importaban un pito: serían, conjeturaba ella, una pérdida de tiempo, y así se lo dijo, con su adiós, a la tortuga y se apartó de ella a su paso. Siempre hacia delante, con lo cual al poco tiempo se halló bastante lejos de la tortuga y olvidada de cuanto le había contado, así del beso, como del matrimonio con el príncipe. (53)

Whether Doménica should have helped the tortoise is a problem left for the reader to decide; for the moment, she resumes her journey. Similarly, in an ambulatory narrative occasionally reminiscent of the picaresque, Doménica encounters a soldier, a musician, and a beggar on the road, yet since they are traveling in the opposite direction as she, she does not stop for them.

Doménica soon encounters an old woman named Ana, who confesses to

Doménica a desire to learn magic. The woman tells Doménica that she would like to conjure a village with an inn, where she can eat dinner and rest for the night. Doménica responds, “¿Y no le sería lo mismo confiarme lo del pueblo a mí? Porque yo no necesito de objeto alguno para transformarlo, me basta con pensarlo, y ya está” (56). After the town has appeared, the two make their way to an inn. After enjoying a veritable feast, they retire to their respective rooms, though a mistake involving which room belongs to each has disastrous—and somewhat comical—effects for the two. Although they change to their correct rooms before going to sleep, a process has already begun. Doménica judges that the two have slept hundreds of years, though the narrator corrects, reminding the reader of Doménica’s inability to judge the passage of time. Upon waking, Doménica

149 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 realizes too late what has transpired between Ana and her. The two have switched bodies: Doménica is now old and unattractive, whereas Ana has become young and beautiful. She tries knocking on Ana’s door, and upon entering her room finds that the

“old” woman “no tendría más que trece años, todo lo más catorce” (61).

Doménica leaves the inn, where a carriage awaits her. She enters the carriage and takes off, with Ana in pursuit. As soon as Doménica leaves the inn and surrounding village, both of these disappear. Since they had been figments of Doménica’s imagination, they too ceased to exist when she stopped thinking about them. Left behind is the restaurant’s waiter, whom Ana turns into a kick scooter so she can pursue the carriage. Soon the carriage comes upon the beggar, who enters so that he might take a nap. As the carriage departs and the beggar sleeps, Doménica notices his dirty, tattered rags. She immediately gives the beggar a new change of clothes, simply by thinking it.

Doménica also thinks that “debajo de aquella cara sucia de pordiosero tenía que haber otra, joven y limpia; seguramente, no había más que tirar de la cara fea para que apareciese debajo la cara guapa” (65). Seeing Ana gaining on the carriage, Doménica throws the man out the window at her. The same thing happens with the musician as happened with the beggar. He enters the carriage, wherein Doménica changes his physical appearance to something much more dignified. However, Doménica must suffer the musician’s company, as there is no easy way for her to throw him out the window as she had done with the beggar. The musician then plays an exotic melody, which helps to reverse the transformation which has switched Doménica and Ana’s likenesses.

Doménica, although grateful to the musician for helping her regain her stolen youth from

150 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Ana, nevertheless throws him out of the carriage as she had done with the previous two men.

Doménica then encounters the soldier, whom she invites to join her on her wanderings. For the third time, she transforms her fellow passenger. When Doménica asks the soldier whether he would like to be king, he replies that this is not possible.

Doménica assures him: “Y puedo llamarte Majestad. Lo que ahora tienes que hacer es ir, así vestido, para que todos tus soldados te vean y vayan tras de ti. Ellos se creerán que van detrás del rey, pero no importa pues el hábito hace al monje y tú vas vestido de rey, luego eres rey” (71). The new king then exits the carriage and commands his troops to victory, albeit thanks to an error in his directions to his troops (“‘vista a la derecha’ en lugar de ‘vista a la izquierda’” [72]). The king then asks Doménica’s hand in marriage, but she declines, explaining that he should reward his troops for their victory in battle while she will continue on her journey.

The episodes with the beggar, the musician, and the soldier—just like those involving Paco and the group of trees before—illustrate that Doménica enjoys helping people. At times her attempts at performing good deeds yield unexpected results, no doubt owing to the childlike, whimsical imagination with which she undertakes them.

However, considering how many people Doménica stops to help, one must wonder why she has not done the same for the tortoise—particularly because of how easy it would be for her to introduce the tortoise to the very ogre she had created before. This could be a sign of the lack of maturity of the title character, or merely a reminder that she is still, for all practical purposes, a child who has not yet formed any rigid ethos.

151 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Doménica’s carriage now begins a journey into the past. “Adelante, no hay tiempo que perder” (81), Doménica announces. She arrives back at the kingdom of the soldier she has made king. He informs Doménica that he is currently at war, and his principal enemy is none other than Julio, el Feo. Doménica explains to the king her conviction that the ogre should not be considered anyone’s enemy, as she was the one who created him: “No es igual,” she tells the king:

porque tú ya estabas ahí y lo que hice fue hacerte rey. En cambio a él lo saqué de la nada. Lo que pasa es que tanto tú como él, una vez que estáis hechos, por el procedimiento que sea, hacéis lo que os viene en gana: tú, por lo pronto, la guerra. Él, no sé. Ahora mismo voy a verlo y a preguntarle sobre el particular. (85)

Once she arrives at the castle of the ogre, she finds that he entertains himself with the latest electronics, leaving the questions of wars in the hands of his soldiers and their commanding officers (86). Doménica offers herself as a military chief to help the ogre win the battle against the king’s forces.

The troops from each side meet on the battlefield, where Doménica and the King shake hands as old friends before the battle commences. Doménica ultimately triumphs, and upon confronting the king asks him, “¿Juras que en lo sucesivo procurarás arreglar cada guerra con una conversación previa?” (89). The king agrees, and orders a large banquet to celebrate the peaceful ending of the battle. Both the ogre and the king (now referring to himself as Canuto IV, coincidentally reminiscent of the name Torrente chose for his “fairy-tale” monarch in La princesa durmiente va a la escuela) ask Doménica’s

hand in marriage. At that precise moment, the old king and Ana (now his queen) arrive

at the banquet. Ana suggests that Doménica marry the king, she can become a queen like

152 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Ana. However, as Doménica prefers neither Canuto nor the ogre, she mounts her white horse and returns to her carriage.

All journeys must come to an end, and Doménica’s is no exception. She has slept in her carriage as it continues onward; “Para el cómputo de Doménica, pasaron varios cientos de años, seis o siete, entre el dormir y el despertar. Pero para el nuestro, pasaron sólo unos minutos; todo lo más media hora” (95). In perhaps a belated apology to the reader for Doménica’s extraordinary, fantastic qualities, the narrator explains that:

En lo cual se ve la enorme diferencia existente entre Doménica y nosotros, y el enorme esfuerzo que teníamos que hacer para entenderla. Yo creo que no la hemos entendido nunca, pero, ¡allá penitas! Contar, lo que se dice contar, se va haciendo; lo de explicar, es más arduo y no se hace nunca. Nosotros contamos sin explicación. (95)

Upon waking, Doménica notices that a serpent has joined her in the carriage. She tells it that she assumes that, “detrás de esa cabeza o debajo de ella habrá otra, pues todo lo que entra aquí parece una cosa y es otra” (97). The snake tells Doménica that he is a King who has been enchanted by the witch Ana for refusing to marry her. The two proceed to

Ana’s castle, where they request that she undo the spell which she has placed on the man.

Ana (now a youthful queen, thanks in no small part to Doménica) agrees to return the serpent to his rightful form, telling him that she would prefer to marry him once she transforms him back, since the king to which she is currently married is a “viejo verde”

(101). With a small flourish, Ana then restores the serpent to his rightful human form.

The king, named Fernando, rejoices at having recovered his original form, and Doménica accepts his offer to marry him. The transformation carries consequences for Ana, for, “al decir la palabra ‘bruja,’ Ana recobró el aspecto de vieja que tanto la distinguía” (101).

153 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

In appreciation for Ana’s lifting the spell on her future husband, Doménica tells

Ana she will make her younger and more beautiful, yet a more appropriate age to correspond with her mature king. In an instant, Ana “abandonaba aquella repugnante figura de vieja bruja, puntiaguda de nariz y de barbilla, y se convertía en esta otra, algo más joven que el monarca, en cuyo cuerpo y en cuya cara se veía que Doménica había andado bastante generosa” (103). Meanwhile, Doménica and Fernando head off to “ese lugar donde los príncipes son felices con las mujeres elegidas de su corazón” (103), leaving the snakeskin and carriage behind. With this, the character (and the novel) has come to the end of her journey.

Despite the uneven division of chapters among the three parts of the novel (nine in Part I, five in Part II, and one in Part III), and the somewhat open ending not altogether foreign to the fairy tale genre (“Pero de esto ya hablaremos” [103]), the story told in

Doménica seems to wrap up in a satisfactory manner. Some readers might argue that

Torrente left too many loose ends, or that the storylines were not sufficiently developed,

though this could very well be the consequence of the author’s having died before he

completed this final novel. Nevertheless, as the publisher notes at the beginning of novel,

Torrente had intended Doménica to be a children’s book.20 Taken as such, one can

appreciate that the protagonist undertakes a fantastical journey, full of magic and

memorable characters and a happy ending, narrated on a level appropriate for children.

Both Crónica del rey pasmado and Doménica seem to contain elements of the

supernatural, although Torrente develops each novel in a very different manner with a vastly different humor and for a totally different readership. In the former, he plays upon

154 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 the widespread sense of superstition which prevailed during the time period portrayed, most likely the Seventeenth Century. In the latter, the Galician novelist spins a fable replete with magical characters and fit to be told to children as a bedtime story.

Notwithstanding the ludic treatments of both, Crónica—given its historical background

and the presence of extremely serious elements (such as the allusions to the Inquisition, the burning of “heretics,” and—it is implied—sundry others who became bothersome)— there is a substrata where humor fades before the memory of horrendous happenings in history. Doménica, by contrast, with its target audience of pre-schoolers, is pure fun,

lacking in serious content other than the implicit moral message conveyed by the

protagonist’s behavior, always to do good to others.

155 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Las islas extraordinarias (1991) and La muerte del Decano21

Torrente published Las islas extraordinarias in 1991, shortly after beginning the

eighth decade of his life. Whereas La muerte del Decano (discussed below) specifically

evokes postwar Spain, Las islas does not provide easy physical or cultural connections

with postwar Spain or any particular country. Instead, in Las islas Torrente focuses on

several forms of political power rather than limiting himself to dictatorships and

dictators. Nevertheless, the novelist does not rule out all possibility for making this

connection. Considering various works Torrente published under the Franco dictatorship,

perhaps it is not too great a leap for the reader to see glimpses of historical

representations of postwar Spain in Las islas, whose narrator/ protagonist is a detective

contracted to venture to a tiny country located on a chain of three islands. There, he must

serve as a bodyguard to the country’s head of state (a veritable dictator), while working to

uncover an alleged assassination plot against him. The Detective explains:

La realidad y el mundo entero cambiaron para mí a partir del momento en que un desconocido, que no quiso decir quién era, me propuso contratarme, no sólo para salvaguardar la vida de cierto magnate de la política cuyo nombre prácticamente desconocía, sino para descubrir y desbaratar, o por lo menos, ayudar a hacerlo, una conspiración difusa y casi misteriosa contra su vida y sistema. (7)

Though the reader well acquainted with geography of Spain might think first of the

Balearic Islands, various critics have speculated that Torrente is alluding to Cuba and

Fidel Castro. Carmen Luna Sellés perceptively clarifies that Las islas is “más que una

sátira particular, una crítica pretendidamente intrascendente a todos los totalitarismos”

(La Tabla Redonda 5, 50). From the Detective’s studies on the island nation, “Saqué la

impresión, […] de que existiera algo así como un compromiso tácito de ocultar la verdad

156 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 en virtud de causas o razones que de momento no se me alcanzaban, pero que bien pudieran ser de naturaleza económica: algo que nos importaba mucho y que nos obligaba a cerrar los ojos ante determinadas realidades” (Las islas 11). This conclusion by the

investigator acquires enormous satiric power when readers of Torrente’s earlier satires

(e.g., La princesa durmiente va a la escuela, La rosa de los vientos, and La isla de los

jacintos cortados) apply the Detective’s observation to the Franco dictatorship. The

Detective agrees to help the Dictator, yet clearly has second thoughts while he recalls the

events leading up to the beginning of this mission:

todos mis años de vida anterior se hundieron definitivamente en el olvido, o al menos eso llegué a creer, y me hallé con la memoria fresca, casi intacta: como al comienzo de un libro que empezase precisamente con la visita de un hombre desconocido, de voz simpática, que me había contratado para una tarea que pertenecía a mi oficio, y que me había anticipado, por mi trabajo, una importante cantidad de dinero. Pero este dinero, si sucediese lo peor, quedaría para siempre en una cuenta cuyo titular no podría cancelarse. (12)

This likening of the beginning of the Detective’s job to the beginning of a book, complete

with the character’s tabula rasa, could be compared to the beginning of a detective novel.

At the same time, the reader familiar with Torrente’s recent literary works will remember the protagonist/ narrator of Quizá nos lleve el viento al infinito (1984), Torrente’s spoof of a super agent (a robot) with the ability to take on the persona of other characters, yet who has ceased to remember his own identity. Inasmuch the narrative consciousness is in fact at the beginning of the book, the observation should alert readers acquainted with some of Torrente’s earlier spoofs that many apparently “innocent” comments are applicable verbatim to the narrative at hand.

157 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

The trip to the islands involves crossing a bridge from the Detective’s home country (revealed not to be a Spanish-speaking country) to the islands. The driver of the taxi which takes the Detective to the bridge specifies that he will not cross the bridge

(thus entering another country). Therefore, the Detective must cross the bridge on foot.

As soon as he has crossed halfway, the bridge begins to retract: “así que [yo, el

Detective] llegué a la frontera antes de lo que había calculado, y en vez de continuar a bordo del puente, descendí de él dando un pequeño salto y me encontré en la primera de las Islas” (Las islas 13-14). Torrente’s depiction of the narrator/ protagonist literally

taking a tumble onto the island could be an intertextual reference to Alice in Wonderland, and there are passages in Torrente’s posthumous Doménica (1999) that still more

strongly evoke the “looking-glass world.”

As is typical of the novela negra, Torrente sets the scene with enough doubt and

possible suspense to keep the reader interested in finding out what will happen next. The

Detective’s narration conveys the impression that there could be assassins lurking about,

waiting for their chance to kill the Dictator, and possibly the Detective as well. This is evidenced by warnings he receives en route to his hotel. The Detective meets a mysterious woman who rides a motorcycle (and whose helmet covers her face, concealing her identity from him). The motorcyclist “había dejado no uno, sino dos papeles. En el primero, el más grande, [. . .] figuraba la dirección del hotel Metropol; en el segundo, una sola palabra: ‘Cuidado’” (15). Yet Las islas is not merely a typical

detective novel. The Detective describes his hotel as “indiferente” (18), yet describes the

feeling he has as he arrives as “el recuerdo de alguna lectura” (18), explaining that “el

158 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 aspecto general del vestíbulo no me era desconocido, pero no como visto, sino leído, quiero decir descrito” (19). The Detective’s resulting feelings of “inquietud” and

“desasosiego” (19) are further heightened by the strange configuration of the hotel: “sus líneas no eran rectas ni sus ángulos sino mínimamente agudos o escalenos, como las líneas verticales u horizontales un poco cóncavas o algo convexas: todo en perfecta correlación” (19). However architecturally stimulating the description of his hotel, the

Detective adds that the quasi-literary feeling he has of the ambience is not an entirely pleasant one: “La página descriptiva que había recordado incluía la palabra siniestro, pero aquel vestíbulo no llegó a parecérmelo, sino sencillamente raro” (19-20). The Detective likewise notes the absence of straight lines in his room. “Había que entrar prevenido en mi habitación para darse cuenta de que, efectivamente, los planos de los suelos y la techumbre convergían en un lugar remoto, mientras que, hacia el otro lado, divergían lo suficiente como para poder imaginar que, a cierta distancia no muy próxima, pudieran contener el cosmos entero entre sus líneas” (20). After settling down for the night, the

Detective discovers the woman motorcyclist outside his room. She warns him to check his bed before sleeping in it. Upon a close inspection, the Detective discovers that:

Agarrado a las columnas inferiores, las hice girar lentamente en el mismo sentido, y un crujido de madera, allá arriba, vino en ayuda de mi sospecha: en efecto, el dosel se había inclinado unos centímetros, y logré equilibrarlo haciendo la misma operación con las columnas de la cabecera. No me cabía ya duda de que, girando simultáneamente las cuatro columnas, el dosel descendería lentamente y podría asfixiar, y quizá también aplastar, a cualquier durmiente desprevenido. (22)

This mechanism recalls such stories as Poe’s “The Pit and the Pendulum,” and causes the

Detective serious uncertainty. “Pero lo que no lograba explicarme,” observes the

159 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Detective, “eran las razones por las cuales yo, traído a aquella ciudad para un servicio, iba a ser eliminado antes de cumplirlo” (22-23).

The Detective must interview the chief administrators of all spheres of life on the islands, starting with the Dictator and his family and continuing with others who administer day-to-day operations on the three neighboring islands, in order to gauge what threat they might pose to the Dictator’s life and well-being. The Detective first meets the

Dictator, who controls the largest island and capital city of the country. His first impression of the island country’s head of state is that of “nerviosismo” (37), an understandable reaction for someone who fears his untimely demise. However, the

Dictator partially dispels this feeling, as he recounts his current situation to the Detective.

An event with the Dictator the following day creates further suspicion for the Detective.

The Dictator summons a servant to bring him something to drink. First, the Dictator has the servant taste the drink; the servant does so, and immediately drops to the floor, apparently poisoned. “De nada valen las precauciones” (39), remarks the Dictator in reference to his dead servant, leaving the Detective to kick the body to prove the servant actually died. The Dictator himself comments on how there is nothing he can do to avoid such things in his life as political leader:

El resumen se lo puedo decir de palabra: aproximadamente cada mes hay una conspiración contra mí, cuyos jefes son debidamente castigados. Estas conspiraciones las organizan los agentes del Gobierno. Conozco su desarrollo hora a hora. No me preocupan, como usted puede comprender: son un instrumento de poder que manejo con cierta habilidad. (41-42)

The Dictator is quick to point out, however, that “existe otra conspiración, que yo no he provocado, que yo no he organizado, y que es la que tiene usted que descubrir” (42).

160 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

There is no more than an indication or an assertion that the person has power, but even while he ostensibly controls the country, there are always forces conspiring to end his reign. He is a de facto prisoner in his palatial fortress residence, seldom venturing out except for pro forma, obligatory appearances concerning affairs of the state. Janet Pérez has referred to this as the “impotence of power”22:

The strictness of the dictator’s confinement exceeds that of a patient in quarantine, as his residence resembles a fortress or prison (or perhaps a mental institution for the criminally insane), despite certain trappings of power and luxury. His rare and carefully orchestrated, somewhat farcical public appearances create the illusion of moving freely through the crowds, but he is insulated by loyal supporters from real contact with the public. (169)

Through conversations the Detective has with his liaison, Gina, the Detective discovers that the Dictator often has a servant pretend to be poisoned, just to intimidate his guests.

“Es muy teatral, Su Excelencia, y ese truco lo usa con muchos visitantes” (45), she observes of the Dictator. But when the Detective explains to Gina that the servant really was dead, Gina questions whether the Dictator could be capable of having his servant killed.

Before taking the Detective to the other islands to interview the Dictator’s son and wife (rulers respectively of the two remaining islands) Gina takes some time to help orient him to life on the different islands. During their discussion, Gina reveals aspects

of her country which seem unsettling to the Detective. She tells him how she has been

chosen to bear the Dictator a child. When the Detective balks, she explains that “Tener

un hijo de Su Excelencia es un honor que no alcanzan todas las mujeres [. . .]. Algo me

han dicho referente a sus hijos. . . Serán, al parecer, la futura clase gobernante, pero hay

161 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 algunos idiotas. Ésos, en su día, serán dulcemente suprimidos (47-48). When the

Detective asks, “¿Y lo dice usted con esa tranquilidad?” Gina replies, “¿Cómo quiere que lo diga?” (48). This disturbs the Detective, who notes that “me sentía repelido por su manera de pensar, sobre todo, por aquella aceptación sin rebeldía de un sistema que yo juzgaba ya intolerable aunque me hallaba allí para defenderlo, comprometido por un contrato y unos dineros recibidos” (48). The Detective observes that everything on the first island seems too clean and orderly. Gina informs him that “En las Islas no había huelgas ni la policía tenía conflictos con los drogadictos. Los obreros trabajaban en su

Isla, donde vivían disciplinados y felices” (50). She proceeds to give the Detective what might be termed the party-line description of how utopian the islands are:

En nuestra ciudad el tráfico está ordenado, y, en el otoño, no vuelan las hojas por las avenidas. Pero los gastos del Estado son infinitamente superiores. Tenemos un ejército muy lúcido, que desfila correctamente el día de la Fiesta Patria, y una Armada de pocos barcos, aunque los más avanzados del mundo. A los niños de las escuelas se les enseña a enorgullecerse de nuestra Armada [. . .] En nuestros muelles, en nuestro aeropuerto, barcos y aviones, cargados de mercancías cuya naturaleza no nos interesa, compran, venden, intercambian sin otro requisito que pagar, gracias a lo cual nuestro puerto es el más navegado del mundo, y nuestro aeropuerto es el más visitado. Finalmente, puedo decirle a usted que la droga que se consume en la Isla del Vicio es monopolio del Estado, lo cual le permite controlarla. (52-53)

Furthermore, Gina explains that the second island is much more disciplined, due to its permanent state of martial law. The Detective feels horror at the description of the islands he has just heard: “Gina había descrito su país con voz monótona, pero agradable, como quien recita una lección aprendida en la que, además, cree” (53).

The Detective then travels to the second island to meet the Dictator’s battle- hungry son and military chief (el Jefe Militar), who has his island under martial law.

162 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

What is frowned upon on the first island is surely against the law on the second island, and there would no mercy for those who attempted to break the laws. The Jefe Militar reveals to the Detective that his engineers have produced a new brand of shields, which would render their ships impervious to air attacks. He then says that “Yo no necesito la guerra para mostrar mi poder. Ni es tan pequeño que quepa en este salón” (73). For the remainder of the discussion, the Jefe Militar concentrates on the advances of the military—and by extension, the country—thanks to him. “Mi querido amigo,” he says as his meeting with the Detective approaches its end, “si yo fuera vanidoso, tendría motivos para creerme el hombre más poderoso del mundo, pero me contento con serlo de este país” (77).

However lacking in humility, the Jefe Militar does not seem to fit the Dictator’s conspiracy theory. Before they visit the wife of the Dictator (ruler of “Pleasure Island”),

Gina and the Detective have a meeting with Dr. Martín23 on the third island. The

Detective describes Dr. Martín’s home as something from another time, whose contents resemble well-preserved antiques found in museums more than furnishings of a home

(82-83). Dr. Martín does not appear to believe in the cooperation of the Jefe Militar in whatever potential conspiracy against the Dictator, though he does not rule out the

possibility that the Dictator’s son be involved to a point. He reminds Gina and the

Detective that “Cualquier cosa que se trame contra Su Excelencia tiene que contar, si no

con la colaboración, al menos con la neutralidad del general. Él solo podría aplastar

cualquier movimiento” (80-81). Dr. Martín reminds the two that heads of state come and

go, sometimes earlier than they anticipate. He explains: “Comprendo que una de las

163 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 cosas más difíciles de aceptar es la práctica de la muerte preventiva, derecho de la sociedad a suprimir a aquellos de sus miembros que por alguna razón resultan peligrosos”

(88-89). He justifies this statement as follows:

Y no es que hayamos renunciado a la moral, sino que intentamos sustituir la antigua, esa que hemos recibido y de la que tanto esfuerzo mental nos ha costado librarnos, por otra nueva, una moral más apoyada en la realidad de los hechos y en las urgencias de ciertas necesidades [. . .]. No olvide que yo vengo de un mundo en el que todavía subsisten, aunque sea como máscaras, las viejas estructuras mentales [. . .]. Y esto sostiene al Estado, y yo soy el artificio del pensamiento y del sistema. Sin mí, el Estado se desmoronaría. La gente necesita creer que piensa. . . (90-92)

Finally, the Detective visits the dictator’s wife (la Directora del Casino), who lives on the third island and dedicates herself to promoting the hedonistic lifestyle. In a stark contrast, the third island is presided over by the wife of the Dictator, and mother of the Jefe Militar. On the third island, law is all but non-existent and excess reigns. People are free to explore sexuality, drug use, gambling, pornography, and anything else imaginable on this island; many of them never return to the rigidity of the first two islands. The Detective takes note of the absolute lack of prisons on the islands (100), a detail which seems to reinforce Gina’s earlier claim that there is no crime or social unrest.

The Dictator’s wife supports this by saying that:

No hay delincuentes ni vagos, no hay rebeldes ni descontentos. A pesar de eso, hay suciedad, ya lo creo que la hay, y, en cierto modo, esta Isla Tercera se debe considerar como una letrina o, más bien, como la letrina [. . .]. Pero no hay nada tan pacífico como el estiércol. Le aseguro que la conspiración contra mi marido no nació aquí, ni aquí tiene seguidores. (102)

The Dictator’s wife maintains that her husband’s downfall would not be beneficial to her or to their son. To the contrary, she adds, “ninguna de las personas que ejercen algún

164 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 poder en el país puede tener razones para conspirar contra mi marido. Su caída significaría la nuestra” (103).

The Detective’s final meeting takes place with the Jefe del Gobierno the following day. The meeting is short, due to a ceremony in which the Dictator will inaugurate a bridge shortly thereafter. As if to underscore the diminished importance of civilian leaders on the islands, the Jefe del Gobierno begs Gina and the Detective to forgive him: “Todo el mundo irá de uniforme, pero yo, con este chaqué anticuado, quiero insistir en mi condición de ciudadano civil” (117). When asked about his thoughts concerning a possible conspiracy against the Dictator, the Jefe del Gobierno turns the question around on the Detective. His reply: “No sé absolutamente nada” (118). The

Jefe del Gobierno responds that:

Ni lo sabrá aunque interrogue a todos los ciudadanos de las Islas. Por mi cargo, yo debería tener, a lo menos, barruntos de esa supuesta conspiración que le trajo a usted aquí. Me han dicho que está en el aire, que se respira, pero el aire, por sí solo, no constituye una pista, ni siquiera un punto de partida. En realidad, yo debería informarle a usted, proporcionarle una base de investigación. No puedo hacer nada [. . .]. Tenga usted en cuenta que yo soy el hombre fuerte del sistema. El Estado funciona porque yo lo hago funcionar, y todos sus resortes están en mis manos. ¿Cómo los servicios secretos no me han informado? Pues le diré por qué; porque no hay nada de que me puedan informar, como no sea eso del aire. (118)

Thus, the Jefe del Gobierno echoes the other people who govern the islands, in expressing his opinion that no conspiracy against the Dictator exists.

Following this seemingly conclusive interview, the Detective and Gina attend the inauguration ceremony for the new bridge. During the ceremony, the Detective makes a comment as to how vulnerable the Dictator is during his speech. “Si alguien quisiera

165 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 matarlo, éste era el momento. Fíjese en su nuca” (125). Gina replies that “¿Se da cuenta usted de que el asesino sería inmediatamente masacrado?” (125), leaving the Detective to answer, “Todo magnicida cuenta con la muerte inmediata” (125). The Dictator fills his speech with rhetoric designed to stir the emotions of the crowd, extolling them to be vigilant of enemies threatening to erase the country’s hard-fought prosperity and plunge it into the anarchy of yesteryear (126-127). The Dictator’s inflammatory speech causes the

Detective to remark that “todas aquellas gentes parecían dispuestas a morir por el jefe o por la patria amenazada” (129). Gina comments cynically that the speech contained “las mentiras necesarias para mantener el entusiasmo y la pasión” (133). The Detective asks,

“Es usted partidaria o enemiga de Su Excelencia?” (133). The discussion continues:

[Gina] –¿Por qué me lo pregunta? [Detective] –Porque unas veces me parece usted una de tantos secuaces, y otras, todo lo contrario. [Gina] –Pues aténgase a eso: unas veces estoy de acuerdo y otras no. [Detective] –Un sistema como el que rige en este país no admite esta clase de adhesiones, que yo considero ambiguas. Aquí se está conmigo o contra mí. (133)

This offers a chance for the Detective to question Gina’s loyalty to the Dictator, and serves as one of the very few times in the novel in which Gina seems to speak openly about her thoughts on the powers that be on the Islands. Equally worth noting is the final line (“Aquí se está conmigo o contra mí”), a perfect parallel to the Fascist motto of “those who are not with us are against us.”

Finally, the Detective is called upon to deliver his final report to the Dictator, informing him that, “A estas horas, no sospecho a nadie, no tengo una pista, no hay nada que pueda contarle. Incluso he llegado a dudar de que exista una conspiración” (141).

166 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

The Dictator does not believe him, but rather insists that people are out to get him. At this moment an alarm sounds, and the two men see a woman approaching the Dictator’s quarters. The Detective recognizes the woman as Gina, and the Dictator announces his intent to kill his would-be assassin before she kills him. As he turns to meet her at the door, the Detective notices that the Dictator “Me ofrecía la enorme, la chata nuca tentadora, provocativa. Tuve el tiempo justo para acercarme a la mesa, apoderarme del puñal hindú y arrojárselo. Se le clavó en el cogote, y cayó sin un gemido” (155-156).

Thus, the Detective has become the unwitting instrument of ultimately nameless and faceless forces to bring down the Dictator. The Detective reveals to Gina that he killed the Dictator to save her life; yet she insists that she was not going to kill the Dictator.

When asked whether she thinks the Detective is a murderer, Gina replies that “Usted hizo lo que haría cualquier hombre de bien, aunque con más destreza” (158). She then helps the Detective to escape from the islands before the authorities arrive at the palace. Gina tells the Detective to take her car back to his hotel, then wait for a signal. At dawn, the motorcyclist the Detective encountered upon arriving on the islands appears to help the

Detective out of the country. The two must make a daring escape on a motorcycle, and are forced to jump across the waterway to the Detective’s home country as the authorities begin to withdraw the bridge between the two countries:

Había clareado: estábamos sobre el puente, y la inmensa maquinaria se movía. La muchacha me dijo: “Tendremos que saltar. Agárrese fuerte.” Lo hice más de lo que estaba. Llegamos al borde del puente: faltaban unos metros para alcanzar la orilla. Si nos deteníamos nos alcanzarían. Ella apretó la marcha. Yo me agarré todo lo fuerte que pude. Al ver bajo de mí las aguas, perdí el sentido. (161)

167 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Just as Dante does when crossing the River Acheron in the Inferno, the Detective loses consciousness. This inverts another convention of the detective fiction genre (though such an inversion becomes more frequent during postmodernism), i.e., the inversion of

gender roles—the “subordinate” female rescues the supposedly hardboiled macho

detective, who has passed out from fear.

The Detective wakes up in his own bed the next day, wondering whether it was all a dream: “Cuando lo recobré [el sentido] me hallaba en mi habitación acostado en mi cama, sin zapatos y sin chaqueta, tapado con una manta. Mi primera impresión fue de

que regresaba de un sueño” (161). He soon realizes that it was not a dream, when he

starts seeing news coverage of the Dictator’s death. Shortly thereafter, the Detective

receives a note informing him that “Le conviene cambiar de ciudad” (167). Based on the

ease with which this note has reached him, the Detective follows its advice and

establishes himself in another city where authorities from the islands might not find him

so easily. A year later, the Detective remarks that he has decided to write about the

whole ordeal. In conclusion, the Detective reports that the islands now commemorate the

death of the Dictator: “la fecha de la muerte del dictador es la más importante de las

fiestas nacionales. No se sabe si es una fiesta alegre o triste” (168). Thus, much of the

(characteristically postmodern) ambiguity found throughout the novel continues beyond the end.

Torrente’s next novel, La muerte del Decano, more easily lends itself to specific

comparisons with Spain of the immediate post-war era—where this novel is set. In La

muerte del Decano Torrente satirically examines a facet of university life, just as he had

168 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 done with Yo no soy yo, evidentemente (1987), and to a lesser extent, La isla de los

jacintos cortados (1980). This time, Torrente again chooses to parody the novela negra

as he illustrates some of the difficulties of Spanish university life during this time. La

muerte centers on a Dean of History at what many readers take to be the University of

Santiago de Compostela. José Colmeiro has pointed out that La muerte could very well

be “la primera novela policíaca de campus española” (La Tabla Redonda 2, 139).

Torrente creates an atmosphere analogous to that of a university in Galicia during the

early postwar era.24 La muerte begins with intrigue: the Dean visits his friend the fraile

and affirms that he, the Dean, will die that very same day. He informs the fraile of “mi

muerte inmediata. ¿Esta noche, quizá? No puedo saberlo, pero lo presiento. Lo

presiento por ciertos indicios” (13). Furthermore, he implicates Don Enrique, the Dean’s

profesor auxiliar, former pupil, disciple and heir apparent: “Esta mañana don Enrique

estuvo tan amable conmigo, tan cariñoso. . . Yo le observaba, y en su mirada vi la

muerte” (13). The Dean even tells the fraile he fears he is to be poisoned before the day

is over. The fraile is concerned upon hearing this unsettling news, but the Dean insists

that nothing can be done to change his fate. “Ustedes [referring to believers of religious

faith] creen que Dios les tiene asignado un momento, y que es inútil escaparle. Yo espero

ese momento como inevitable. . .” (15). The Dean informs the fraile that he comes to

drop off a box containing important papers, which his friend should keep safe and not

open until twenty years after the Dean’s death. “Son unas precauciones a largo plazo,

pero también una venganza” (16), he explains. Readers should pay special attention to

169 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 this conversation for its potential to clarify matters which otherwise seem to be inscrutable at the end.

After the Dean leaves the fraile, he meets his assistant Don Enrique at the university, and invites the latter to dinner, mentioning that he wishes to eat empanada de lamprea, to which Don Enrique remarks that “Usted no suele cenar fuerte” (20). The

Dean replies that “Un día es un día” (20). After the two part ways, the Dean returns to his office to attend to some business. Before leaving, however, the Dean “se levantó, encendió la luz del techo, sacó unos papeles del cajón y los quemó en la estufa, uno a uno, cuidadosamente. Dejó sin quemar dos o tres cuartillas que devolvió al cajón” (23).

As the Dean has already foretold not only his death, but his cause of death and the person supposedly behind it, the combined act of leaving some papers to be meticulously guarded while burning others arouses suspicion that the Dean might be helping to set the stage for upcoming events.

As agreed that morning, the Dean and Don Enrique meet at a restaurant for dinner. Before they begin eating, the Dean mentions a new book he has been reading.

“Estaba viendo ese trabajo de Méndez. Todo lo que dice aquí, como descubierto por él es archisabido” (25). The Dean then proceeds to eat a tremendous amount of food, including two plates of empanada de lamprea as well as tarta de almendra, a large quantity of wine, and a shot of aguardiente. Don Enrique eats modestly—just merluza con patatas—and admonishes the Dean for being so decadent; the Dean responds that

“un día es un día. El día de hoy lo dedico a los excesos” (25-26). He repeats himself near the end of their dinner, saying that “Un día es un día, ya se lo dije, el de hoy es

170 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 especial” (28). The Dean then tells Don Enrique he would like to discuss the latter’s upcoming oposiciones, and in particular, a book the two have co-written which should help Don Enrique secure academic employment. The Dean suggests Don Enrique should take sole credit for the book, stating his opinion that Don Enrique “sabe mucho, eso tiene que reconocerlo cualquier tribunal, pero le falta obra. Y he pensado que ese libro que

íbamos a firmar a medias, lo firme usted solo. Yo le pondré un prólogo” (29). When

Don Enrique objects to this suggestion, the Dean says that “Yo no escribí ni una sola línea” (29). Don Enrique still considers the forthcoming publication a joint effort. The

Dean counters as follows: “¿Está usted seguro de que [el pensamiento] no es también suyo? No le digo que, en el origen, allá muy lejos, no haya algo mío, pero eso sucede con lo que piensa el discípulo, y usted lo fue mío” (29-30).

Following their dinner, the Dean asks Don Enrique to accompany him to his quarters in an off-campus Colegio. The Dean then informs Don Enrique that he is contemplating transitioning from History to Literature, so he can focus on the historical novel. The Dean wastes no time in telling Don Enrique the news:

Lo que tengo que decirle es sencillo: renuncio a la Historia por la Literatura, es decir, renuncio a mi carrera. Y renuncio porque he encontrado un camino mejor para expresar lo que llevo dentro. Voy a dedicarme a la novela. . . ¡No ponga esa cara, hombre! De momento a la novela histórica. De momento, y quizá para siempre. (38-39)

The topic of literature and history has appeared various times and in many guises in

Torrente’s works; given that Torrente’s career combined that of professor of history and literature, this scene suggests a clear parallel between the Dean and Torrente himself

(although Torrente was never so fortunate with the Spanish university system). The

171 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 reader might take this gesture on the part of the Dean as a critique of the conditions in various spheres of employment during the immediate post-war: those who did not support

Franco were relieved of their positions, and replaced by those who would be loyal to the dictator. In the case of history professors, sometimes those in opposition to Franco were imprisoned or assassinated (and in the immediate postwar period, many historians were assassinated or imprisoned, to open the way for a Francoist re-writing of recent history).

The Dean’s announcement of his intention of renouncing his career as a historian could leave open the possibility for Don Enrique to advance within the Facultad. When he inquires, “¿Y la cátedra? ¿Qué va a hacer de la cátedra?” (40), the Dean replies that, “De momento, seguir en ella. Más adelante, Dios dirá” (40).

The scene between the Dean and Don Enrique becomes crucial to the understanding of events which occur later during La muerte. Torrente offers several

clues which will be followed by those who investigate the Dean’s death, some of which

serve to complicate the investigation rather than point towards a simple explanation of

the events during the Dean’s final waking moments. For example, as the Dean and Don

Enrique continue talking, the Dean offers him a drink and a cigar. Don Enrique passes on

the alcohol, but accepts the cigar. As the two smoke, Don Enrique shakes loose the ash

which forms at the end of his cigar, whereas the Dean says that “Un cigarro de esta

calidad conserva la ceniza hasta el final” (40). Additionally, the Dean becomes startled

and says he thinks he has seen someone outside the window. “Juraría que alguien nos

estaba escuchando,” says the Dean. “Vi una cabeza rapada y roja, un rostro pecoso” (43).

Don Enrique tells the Dean he has not seen anyone, though when Don Enrique asks

172 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 whether he should make certain, the Dean does not stop him. Don Enrique then goes outdoors to check, leaving his footprints in the mud outside the window. Finally, the

Dean asks him to look for his teacup. Upon finding it, he hands it to the Dean, leaving his fingerprints. As Don Enrique leaves for the night, he notices that the Dean has another guest: the Director of the Colegio.

As predicted, the Dean dies sometime during the night, only to be discovered on the floor of his quarters the following morning. The Dean’s body is “en el suelo, espatarrado, con los brazos en cruz, un cordón de batín flojamente arrollado al cuello, como si el cuerpo al caer lo hubiera arrastrado consigo” (52-53). Initial speculations are that the Dean had committed suicide, yet the Director of the Colegio does not agree.

When the Comisario in charge of investigating the Dean’s death arrives, the Director of the Colegio explains to him that “A primera vista parece un suicidio, pero, no sé por qué, lo encuentro algo raro” (53-54). The Director of the Colegio posits that the Dean “Estaba muy tranquilo: nadie diría que iba a suicidarse” (56). However, when asked about his thoughts concerning the Dean’s last visitor the previous night, Don Enrique, the Director replies, “No hay más que ver, esa cuerda alrededor del cuello. No parece verosímil que don Enrique se la haya puesto, ¿me comprende?” (56). However, the Comisario dismisses this seemingly logical explanation for the Dean’s death, remarking, “Tampoco le he preguntado lo que era lógico. Para sacar las consecuencia lógicas estoy yo aquí”

(57). The Director mentions the Dean’s status as “castigado” when he arrived at what would become his final teaching post. When the Comisario asks whether the Dean was

“un rojo,” the Director of the Colegio replies, “No tanto un rojo, pero tampoco muy

173 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 adicto al régimen. Un intermedio de esos, ya sabe usted. Un intelectual de los que no emigraron

[. . .]. Un desafecto” (58-59). Given the information presented to him, the Comisario proceeds to classify the Dean’s death a homicide.

In the following scenes (62-83), Torrente both shows his mastery of parody and reveals his keen use of Cervantine literary elements. In an Unamuno-inspired twist, the authorities cannot decide whether the death was caused by murder, suicide, or accident stemming from overindulgence in food and alcohol.25 The Comisario and the Juez—

significantly the major local authorities—who investigate the scene behave like parodies

of Sherlock Holmes and Watson, as the Comisario attempts to use the clues he has

gathered to connect the dots surrounding the events leading up to the Dean’s death. The

behavior of both the Comisario and the Juez is ludicrous as the two follow these clues

like a trail of breadcrumbs as they begin their investigation; but they are unable to decide

which of their alternative explanations is correct. For instance, the Comisario suggests

that he has a better idea of what happened not because of his training in investigating

homicides, but rather, because “he leído novelas policíacas que son el mejor libro de

texto y que suplen la experiencia” (63). Based on the positioning of the body—and

foregoing the benefit of a detailed forensic analysis—the Comisario hypothesizes that the

Dean’s death resulted from his ingesting a large quantity of poison (63-64). He adds that

the killer is “Un principiante. En su vida había leído una novela policíaca, lo ignora todo

de las huellas dactilares y de los restos que fue dejando” (68). The Juez is not so ready to

dismiss suicide as the possible cause of death, though the Comisario decides that the Juez

174 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 must possess inferior deductive reasoning skills. As a result, the two have difficulties concluding their investigation.

As with Augusto Pérez, the main character of Unamuno’s Niebla, authorities

consider possible causes of the Dean’s death: he has a noose around his neck, but the

noose has broken. They consider the amount of food the Dean had eaten the night before,

and whether that could have affected his health so grievously. [A clear clue pointing to

Niebla as the precedent parodied here is that the ostensible cause of Augusto’s death is

overeating, and Unamuno’s protagonist (who similarly forecast his own demise) stated

that he intended to commit suicide. Torrente also refers to precedents from Niebla in

Fragmentos de Apocalipsis.] The Juez and Comisario also consider political motivations,

since “El Decano era un rojo conocido” (72). Finally, and most importantly, they find that the Dean has ingested cyanide, although—underscoring their ineptitude—this seems

of little interest to them.

La muerte also offers keen insight into the workings of the university system in

Spain. Having spent most of his adult career teaching at universities in Spain and visiting the State University of New York at Albany during the late 1960s, Torrente demonstrates not only his understanding of the political power struggles that often occur between rival faculty members, but also shines in his ability to parody both university personnel as well as the inspectors in charge of the case. The machinations of some professors are also illustrated: those who are jealous of their colleagues would do anything to each other to get ahead, including character assassination. This becomes evident in a meeting of the

other Deans of the university. Some of the Deans express opinions such as, “Yo mismo

175 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 me desharía de buena gana de algún colega. . .” (86), or “alguno estorba aquí y en Pekín.

Yo, a más de uno, le deseo la muerte” (87). When someone mentions the Dean’s reputation as an eloquent professor, another reminds the others that “En sus clases. A nosotros nos despreciaba. . .” (87).

A trial is convened, and Don Enrique becomes not only the prime suspect, but the only suspect. Given his position and his relationship with the Dean, Don Enrique could have possessed sufficient motive for murdering the Dean. Yet conflicting evidence does not prove or disprove this. During the trial, the evidence collected by the Comisario and the Juez—along with deductions this caused the Comisario to make—is presented. Don

Enrique is asked whether he has bought cyanide in the past. He replies that “El Decano se quejaba de las visitas nocturnas de una rata enorme, que le producía miedo y asco. Me pidió que le comprara algo para matarla” (104). It is then revealed that “El Decano, según la autopsia, murió por ingestión de cianuro” (105). Don Enrique’s wife, Francisca, corroborates that Don Enrique kept poison so he could kill the rat which occasionally visited the Dean. She adds that, “De lo único que estoy segura es de que no lo hizo mi marido. Sin otras razones que mi propio sentimiento” (117).

In a surprise move, Fray Fulgencio breaks his confidentiality with the deceased and reveals the Dean’s confession of having been in love with Don Enrique’s wife,

Francisca. The possibility of a love triangle involving the deceased and the prime suspect introduces another potential motive for Don Enrique to want to murder the Dean. Thus, rather than just a matter of professional jealousy, the Dean’s death—if determined to be a homicide—could be ruled a crime of passion. Francisca testifies that she had dismissed

176 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 the Dean’s overtures; though she had not explicitly told Don Enrique the Dean had been pursuing her affections, she believes that “él lo adivinó. Recientemente. Pero no le guardaba rencor” (163). If this is true, it opens the door to the possibility that the Dean has committed suicide either out of jealousy of Don Enrique or as a rejected would-be lover. Far from clearing things up, this added possibility only serves to make deliberations surrounding the Dean’s death more difficult. A crime of passion, stemming from jealousy of a husband whose wife has been won over by another, might produce different consequences than a murder for professional benefits.

Having considered the evidence and the testimony of the witnesses, the prosecution then relies upon what might prove to be damning evidence against Don

Enrique: the box of papers the Dean had entrusted to Fray Fulgencio the day before his death. However, this seems to be the Dean’s last laugh: the box’s sole contents are

“Recortes cualesquiera, cuidadosamente cortados, eso sí, pero sin relación entre ellos.

Periódicos de Madrid y regionales, incluso locales [. . .]. No hay más que papeles de periódicos, sin una sola palabra escrita” (168-169). Considering these papers were described by the Dean as “una venganza” when he left them with Fray Fulgencio, and that he had expressed his wish that they not be read until twenty years after his foretold murder, the possibility that the Dean “montó toda esta máquina complicada y confusa sólo para aniquilar intelectualmente al acusado” (179) becomes stronger.

During his final remarks, the Fiscal states: “No sé si el difunto, al que todos hemos llamado el Decano, fue asesinado o no. Los indicios no son suficientes para probarlo, o, al menos, a mí no me lo parecen” (199). Thus, in the absence of any

177 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 definitive evidence that he murdered the Dean, Don Enrique is set free. They only take the evidence they have and choose something which seems to be the most likely sequence of events. Even the final, private conversation between the two characters most closely involved—Don Enrique and his wife—only adds to the confusion, as she indicates that she, too, had potential motives. She confesses to Don Enrique: “Cuanto más lo pensaba, más lógico me parecía que tú lo hubieras matado, precisamente para evitarme a mí que lo matase” (202).26 When Don Enrique signals that he still does not believe the Dean to

have been capable of committing suicide, Francisca replies, “Pasan cosas raras. Hubo un

tiempo en que no lo creía. Ahora, no sé por qué, me parece posible. Pero tampoco estoy

segura” (203). Thus, the novel concludes ambiguously. In stark contrast to the typical

detective novel, in which the sleuth ties up all loose ends in a satisfying manner by the

end of the novel and the guilty are duly punished, La muerte ends with more questions

than answers. Neither Torrente’s characters nor the reader is able to determine

definitively what happened to the Dean.

Here, as with the end of Las islas extraordinarias, readers are left with an enigma.

Torrente in effect parodies the detective genre, but mocks the underlying epistemological

principle whereby the mystery is solved and all questions are answered, as well as the

moral principle whereby the guilty are punished and social order is restored. Torrente’s

resolution is more realistic, both in the relentlessly realist context of La muerte del

Decano and in the pseudo-fantastic case of Las islas extraordinarias, where the setting and certain situations seem to lack a basis in external reality, but where the psychology

and motivations of characters coincide with those found in fully realistic novels.

178 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

In both Las islas extraordinarias and La muerte del Decano, the person in power is

paranoid, believing that someone is conspiring to kill him to remove him from his

position of authority, even though subsequent investigations fail to corroborate these fears. In each novel the investigations themselves are parodied, and the investigators end

up doing more harm than good to the investigations they conduct. Both Las islas and La

muerte are farces parodying the detective novel: neither novel ties up the loose ends in

the traditional, satisfactory manner. The ends of Las islas and La muerte resemble

“business as usual”: the novels depict these major events as bumps in the road. As the

Detective notes at the end of Las islas, “El país, sin embargo, marchaba bien, y nada

había cambiado tras la muerte del dictador, lo cual redondeaba en alabanza de su obra,

firme e inconmovible, etcétera” (167). Similarly, for Spain during the decades following

the Spanish Civil War, life goes on: only those in power have changed.

179 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

La novela de Pepe Ansúrez (1994) and La boda de Chon Recalde (1995)

La novela de Pepe Ansúrez, winner of the Premio Azorín, is a metanovel which takes place closer to the time of its publication, during the post-Franco dictatorship

Democracia.27 The novel explores the process of writing, or more specifically,

meditations on and preparations for writing. In it, Torrente likewise continues to

examine life and attitudes in small-town Spain, as he had done in Filomeno, a mi pesar

(1988) and Crónica del rey pasmado (1989) and he continues to do with La boda de Chon

Recalde (1995). This theme seems near to Torrente: aside from living for part of his life in Madrid, and a considerable amount of time in university towns such as Santiago de

Compostela and Salamanca, Torrente spent much of his life in villages and small cities

where a provincial attitude prevailed (i.e., areas of his native Galicia and Oviedo in

neighboring Asturias).

The protagonist and title character of Pepe Ansúrez, who lives in a provincial

town and is known for his poetry, decides to write a novel. As with many real-life

writers of the post-war era and even in the present, full-time writing does not pay the bills

on its own, necessitating that Ansúrez have a “regular job” (in his case, at a bank) while

writing on the side. The heretofore poet makes his big announcement at a function for

the bank for which he works, during which he reads verses including an ode to the wife

of the bank President (during which time the young writer eulogizes the woman’s

breasts). Ansúrez decides to write a thinly veiled novel about his fiancée and himself. In

the novel the couple plan and celebrate their nuptials, then live happily ever after.

However, as is often the case in small towns, gossip surrounding the possible plot of the

180 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 novel travels quickly, sparking everyone’s attention and causing people of all spheres of life in the town to speculate as to whether they shall be included in it. At the same time, some people use the announcement as an excuse to rekindle feelings of jealousy. One of

Ansúrez’s co-workers at the bank, Don Perico, maintains that he—not Ansúrez—is the best writer in town, having published work in prose before as opposed to Ansúrez’s sole publications consisting of poetry. Though Ansúrez claims that no rivalry exists between the two of them, nevertheless the two are little more than cordial co-workers, in competition with each other:

Todas las mañanas, el que primero llegaba levantaba la tapa del escritorio del otro y echaba un vistazo, a ver qué nuevas muestras de ingenio, en prosa o en verso, habían surgido de la colaboración entre un caletre, una cuartilla de papel y una máquina de escribir. “Está visto que tengo que comprarme otro traje,” o bien “No tengo más remedio que buscarme otra corbata.” Y luego se sentaba y esperaba la llegada del otro, que ya no podía levantar la tapa, que tenía que sentarse sin saber si el cerebro del uno seguía maquinando, en prosa o en verso, dicterios elegantes contra una chalina deshilachada o contra una chaqueta cuyos codos necesitaban del remedio urgente de unas coderas. (22-23)

Don Perico takes it upon himself to come up with a novel which will outdo Ansúrez’s novel and become the talk of their provincial society. After many complications— including Ansúrez’s boss wanting to be the villain of the protagonist’s novel—Ansúrez and his wife quit their jobs, get married, and start their life together, leaving Ansúrez’s boss to hire Don Perico to write the novel about the couple and him. The novel ends as

Don Perico begins his dictation to his wife, starting with “Capítulo primero” (162).

Pepe Ansúrez might well serve as the best example of Torrente’s novelas

dialécticas, with its scarcely 160 pages divided into several short chapters of five pages or less, many of them employing one side of a dialogue and separated from surrounding

181 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 pages by a blank page. As is the case with other novels Torrente published during the

1990s, Pepe Ansúrez lacks some of the intellectual profundity or complexity of earlier

works such as the “fantastic trilogy,” leading some critics to believe that Torrente no longer could produce literature at such a high level. Reaction towards Pepe Ansúrez in

France was uneven, given the relatively small number of copies printed in this language,

but produced the following reaction: “la crítica definió La novela de Pepe Ansúrez como

‘un livre drôle et facile à lire’ después de haber destacado la trayectoria literaria de

Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, ‘un vieux monsieur qui n’a plus rien à prouver,’ y quien, ‘à présent, il écrit juste pour s’amuser’ (La Tribune, 14/03/1996)” (29).28 However, the

Galician novelist defended his reasoning for publishing his then-most-recent works quickly, rather than developing them further, explaining: “Tal vez se debe a que, cuando me pongo a escribir, tengo miedo de no poder terminar, tengo miedo de morirme antes”

(82).29 Simply stated, Torrente had ideas for novels and he wished to get them published

instead of leaving unfinished work upon his death.

The relatively short length of Pepe Ansúrez should not beguile the reader into thinking that the novel has nothing stimulating to offer. The plot is sufficient enough to keep the reader’s attention, and Torrente develops the characters enough that one wants to see how the story will end. As critics have noted with earlier works, Pepe Ansúrez

once again returns readers to a small town which very well could stand in for Torrente’s

hometown of Ferrol,30 or else, some other, similar small port city in Galicia. However, details provided in the novel do not point the towards any concrete location: as Ansúrez is an Asturian name, Torrente could also be referring back to Oviedo. For Torrente, then,

182 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 narrating Pepe Ansúrez means recounting a lifestyle with which he would have been

intimately acquainted, with the type of situations (young adults gain employment and

consider marriage) and problems (how to afford rising cost of living in Spain during the

Democracia, the long-standing necessity of pluriempleo and the possibility of losing one’s employment, as well as interpersonal complications arising from gossip and jealousy) readily accessible to the average Spanish reader of the day—if not the average reader from a much broader audience.

Notable Torrente critic Frieda Blackwell has observed how Pepe Ansúrez constitutes a meditation on the acts of writing as well as reading.31 By citing

incongruities found in the text, including unmarked shifts in narrative voice, a non-linear

passage of time, and discrepancies in characters’ recollections of past events (often these

are intentional), this critic illustrates a much deeper level to Pepe Ansúrez than the

divertissement to which French critics and readers initially limited it. According to

Blackwell:

The novel ends where it begins, with the same chapter heading used in the novel we have just read. In the intervening pages, the reader has constructed and deconstructed the work, ending with the same doubts and uncertainties, yet much more aware of the act of reading and the creative process in everyday life with people of all social strata, and the readers’ relation to the author and to this text. Thus, La novela de Pepe Ansúrez becomes a further definition of the novel itself and its almost limitless creative possibilities. (79)

Blackwell reminds readers that the novel Pepe Ansúrez intends to write is not actually

written over the course of, but is only started at the end of, the novel; even then, it is Don

Perico who ghost-writes the novel. This provides a chance for Torrente to illustrate the

early steps in the process of literary creation, including inception of an idea and writing

183 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 preparation. Since practically the entire town becomes involved in the planning of the novel, Blackwell argues that the writing of this particular novel has become a democratic practice in itself: “one notes that those opining on Pepe’s novel come from all social classes and profession, making the process very democratic and open, a stark contrast to literary production under strict censorship of the Franco regime” (74). The idea that a broad spectrum of members of the community in some way “participates” in the planning of the novel-within-a-novel fits well within the tenets of New Historicism, in that it includes several different viewpoints on the events to be described, rather than one single viewpoint. Whether those come across in the finished product remains to be seen (the novel is only begun at the end of Pepe Ansúrez), but readers of Pepe Ansúrez can

appreciate the inclusion of a wide variety of characters. However, thanks to the same

level of community involvement, Blackwell calls to the reader’s mind the idea that there

are still certain levels of censorship. Since Ansúrez will not follow the strong advice

given to him by the President of the bank—not only his boss, but also the one willing to

pay all expenses incurred by the novel’s publication—the bank president decides he will

pull his financial support, ultimately preventing Ansúrez from writing the novel.

Blackwell refers to this as economic censorship (78), a phenomenon not altogether

uncommon to Torrente.

Provincial attitudes prevail in Pepe Ansúrez, and focus primarily on the soon-to-

be-married couple as well as on the novel the future groom (and namesake of the novel)

intends to write. Many fear that Ansúrez will air their dirty laundry, and quite a few

conjecture that he will write an anti-military work (which could very well do damage to

184 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 the reputation of those living in this port city). Perhaps to serve a as criticism of the way the people’s attitudes intervene toward Ansúrez’s planned novel, the President of the

Bank remarks:

¿Conocen ustedes alguna ciudad donde la inteligencia cuente menos que en ésta? Usted puede ser inteligente o burro. Da igual. Lo importante son los galones que lleva, el puesto que ocupa, si manda o si obedece, y todo lo demás que ustedes conocen mejor que yo, porque ustedes son de aquí y yo afortunadamente soy de fuera, donde las cosas son de otra manera. Yo soy nacido en un pueblo de la Huerta, pero me crié en la Capital, y tengo la mentalidad de allí. A mí todo eso de los cuadros, de los civiles y los militares, me cae un poco por fuera. Para mí un hombre es, ante todo, inteligente o burro. Después puede venir lo demás. (100)

In addition, there is gossip that Ansúrez’s fiancée, Elisa Pérez, has had tawdry sexual encounters with the President of the bank where she and Ansúrez work in order to ensure her employment, and later her advancement. Through narration, the reader also learns that Ansúrez has been having an affair with the maid at the piso he shares with his mother, further implying a shift in attitudes toward sexuality at the time during which the novel takes place. Yet, near the end of the novel, another narrative explains to the reader that Elisa still has her virginity intact, as she must visit her gynecologist for “una simple incisión de bisturí [que] le evitase al mismo tiempo el dolor y la hemorragia” (154) during their wedding night.32

Though much of the intrigue in La novela de Pepe Ansúrez may be disregarded

by readers, it nevertheless serves as a reminder of some of the closed-minded attitudes

which still exist and flourish during the Democracia which has succeeded the Franco dictatorship. At the same time, the novel can be read as a meditation on the process of literary creation.

185 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

La boda de Chon Recalde portrays the postwar era, but from the woman’s perspective. Sisters Cristina and Chon Recalde arrive in their provincial hometown at the

end of the Spanish Civil War. Their grandfathers were decorated naval officers, and

highly respected among the townsfolk. However, their father had sided with the

Republicans during the Civil War, only to be apprehended and executed for his legitimate

actions during the war. Cristina and Chon’s mother has died, unable to bear the news of

her husband’s execution, forcing Cristina and Chon to leave Madrid, where they enjoyed

a quality education and urban life, and return to their hometown to live much more

limited lives with their remaining family. They experience difficulties adapting to the

close-knit society, especially since the local people suspect and fear they have the same

anti-Franco ideas for which their father died. The two sisters are remarkably self-

sufficient: they are proficient at their jobs and can take care of themselves. Chon in

particular has more than her fair share of would-be suitors from which to choose. This

further aggravates the townspeople, who support more traditional (if not overtly

Francoist) values requiring women to focus solely on getting married and having

children. Then, a rumor is started involving Chon and one or more men with whom she

supposedly has had illicit affairs in the past, further complicating her chances at finding

happiness.

As with Pepe Ansúrez, Torrente creates in Chon Recalde a vivid representation of

a small Spanish port city, this time during the immediate aftermath of the Spanish Civil

War. Characters from various different spheres appear in the novel (also as in Pepe

Ansúrez), creating a micro-society upon which Torrente projects some of the attitudes of

186 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 that time. Some of the most visible depictions of that particular era are the sirens the town uses for curfew and other times during the day, as well as speculation on the possible outcome of World War II. However, the main story of Chon Recalde focuses on the title character and her sister, and the attitudes they face as they leave formerly

Republican-occupied Madrid to live with their provincial aunt, la tía Rosa.

Several characters express mixed emotions upon the arrival of the Recalde sisters at the beginning of Chon Recalde. Their father, who had formerly led a distinguished

naval career, has been executed for being a Republican sympathizer. Following his

execution, the girls’ mother died of a heart attack out of grief relating to the father’s

death. It is stated that “nadie dudaba que el cadáver, o más bien los restos del capitán de

navío Recalde serían llevados un día al panteón de Marinos ilustres” (Chon Recalde 15).

Furthermore, one officer informs the sisters that “su padre es un héroe para nosotros y que cuando cambie la situación, si cambia algún día, le pondremos una placa en la casa en que nació” (68). Later on, another officer would echo this sentiment, saying:

La señorita Chon Recalde es la hija menor de un ilustre marino. Su padre no sólo sabía de estrategia y de táctica sino también de física y matemáticas. Todos hemos aprendido algo de él, y todos le recordamos con respeto. El fusilamiento fue un accidente desgraciado, pero sólo un accidente. (94)

However, not everyone shares this high opinion on the deceased, and they are skeptical about receiving the daughters—the elder of which they suspect shares her late father’s alleged radical political ideologies—bringing them into their small town. Upon learning that the older sister, Cristina, is to work in translation and interpreting with the señor

Maquieira, someone remarks, “Por cierto, que se entenderá bien con el señor Maquieira,

187 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 que es un rojo camuflado. Dios los cría y ellos se juntan” (21). It is even remarked that

“La mayor [Cristina], que era secretaria de su padre, debió ser fusilada con él. En cuanto a la pequeña [Chon], dio mucho que hablar durante los años de guerra” (123). These and numerous similar exchanges illustrate the kinds of malicious but uninformed gossip that in previous centuries led to people being imprisoned and tortured by the Inquisition, and in the postwar era often sufficed to cause individuals and even entire groups imprisoned and executed by the vengeful regime.

One of the matrons of the community, Doña Paulita, is quick to invite Cristina and Chon to have tea with her, if only in an effort to feel the two out. Paulita has a habit of reminding everyone in town that her husband died a hero in battle, and this has inspired the disdain some of her fellow townspeople. Maquieira, for one, notes the irony with which Paulita has only found respect for her husband after his death: “No le hizo caso de vivo, pero lo compensa con el caso que le hace de muerto. De él dicen que buscó la muerte en el frente por librarse de ella” (37). When Cristina visits her daughter,

Pauliña, and her, she sees that Paulita has gone to great lengths to make it seem she is not suffering economically: “Cristina se sentó en el lugar que le indicaban: un sillón frailero, poco apropiado para el comedor, de estilo español antiguo, hecho bastantes años antes.

Encima de la mesa brillaban el cristal de Bohemia y la vajilla de Limoges. Había lonchas de jamón, pasteles y bizcochos” (39). Paulita then offers her apology, saying, “Tiene usted que perdonar la modestia de esta merienda, ya sabe usted lo poco que dan con la cartilla, aunque, claro, conmigo tienen cierta consideración” (39). Paulita wastes no time informing Cristina that, “Mi marido, ya lo sabrá, murió heroicamente en el Escamplero.

188 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Le dieron la medalla militar cuando él merecía la Laureada. Por un muerto, sólo por un muerto. Uno más y se la hubieran dado. Ya ve usted lo que son las cosas” (40). This explains what Maquieira had already told Cristina about Paulita previously. Paulita takes great pride in taking the moral high ground, reminding all who are willing to listen that her husband died for the “right” reasons—and in doing so here, she casts her husband’s

“glorious” death in battle in a steep contrast to that Cristina’s father, executed as a traitor.

However, Cristina rebukes her in responding, “Pues ya lo sabía. En este pueblo todo se sabe. Nada más decir que venía a su casa y ¡zas!, me colocaron toda la historia” (40).

Paulita likewise fails to ingratiate herself upon Chon. She invites the younger Recalde sister to participate in a talent show, for which Chon should sing a song while dressed as a (male) soldier. Chon politely turns down the role, insisting that Pauliña take it instead, though this does not sit well with Paulita. As someone more attuned to the pace of life in a small, provincial town, who is used to having her finger on the pulse of the community

(or her nose in everyone’s business), Paulita can not understand why the Recalde sisters act so independently.

The difficulty Cristina and Chon experience in their adjustment to life in this small town owes partly to the fact that they have lived not only in Madrid, but also in

London for a time, thanks to their father’s naval assignments (he was the “agregado naval” to the Spanish Embassy in London, 182). They are used to a more worldly, cosmopolitan atmosphere, unlike the small closed-minded town in which they now find themselves. Maquieira observes that, “Mala cosa es ésa, la de pensar, en este pueblo: en este pueblo nos dan el pensamiento y, o se sigue, o se sitúa uno enfrente, con la peor

189 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 calificación” (66). Furthermore, the two sisters possess good looks, which only causes others to become jealous of them. Whereas other young women aspire only to marry naval officers to ascend in the local hierarchy, it is commented that the Recalde sisters are in control of their destiny:

las hijas de aquella hermosa señorita [the mother of Cristina and Chon] están a punto de celebrar dos matrimonios morganáticos. Si [la madre de ellas] se hubiera casado con el escribiente de la Armada, y no con el alférez de navío, las hijas, tan guapas como son, habrían estado al alcance de cualquiera. Claro está que entonces no hubiéramos hablado de ellas como lo estoy haciendo ahora. Serían dos chicas guapas, pero del montón, de las que quieren subir a toda costa y casarse con uno de esos jóvenes marinos, que se encandilan con un buen culo y un par de tetas, se casan sin saber lo que hacen, y después viene lo que viene: ellas un hijo cada año, ellos a divertirse en Cartagena siempre que pueden. Éstas lo harán al revés. (80)

Clearly, this is not the typical way of life for women of a small town during the immediate postwar, considering that under Franco women were little more than the property of their fathers until the point when they married, henceforth becoming property of their husbands, or what has been referred to as “el ángel del hogar.”33 That the regime would not allow women to vote, and would only admit them to work certain jobs (such as grade school teacher or nurse), would mean Cristina and Chon working on their own would at the very least be frowned upon by members of the small community. The ill will some of them feel towards the sisters leads to the main problem posited by the novel.

Chon begins dating one of the military men she has met on the train from Madrid.

However, he quickly stops seeing her after his family reminds him that her questionable social status (as daughter of a man executed for being on the “wrong side” of the war, and whose own political ideology is questionable) will be detrimental to his ability to ascend

190 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 in the military ranks. Chon then starts dating another person, and the two seem happy together. It is at this point that a letter arrives from Madrid, calling into question Chon’s integrity by accusing her of having had sexual relations with various soldiers, including a

Russian. In it the accuser says, “Yo no daría un real por la decencia de Chon. Sin que sea levantarle calumnias, nadie fue más toqueteada que ella, y por manos internacionales.

De esto no conviene hablar porque no hay nada seguro, pero seguridad moral la tenemos todas” (123-24). Considering Spanish-Soviet relations were not friendly during World

War II (Spain provided aid to the Soviets’ enemies, Germany and Italy, during the war), this would be tantamount to sleeping with the enemy.

Notwithstanding, the social customs in Francoist Spain were particularly oppressive for women even on the victorious side.34 Particularly in the case of a small

town the likes of which the Recalde sisters live in Chon Recalde, such a thing as a young

woman losing her virginity before marrying would be considered scandalous. Maquieira explains the town’s collective opinion on this subject:

Para entenderlo, necesita usted entender primero algo muy propio de este pueblo… no sé si de alguno más o de todos, pero yo sólo conozco lo de aquí y de lo de aquí voy a hablarle. Las chicas de este pueblo, las que son como usted o andan cerca de usted, aunque no le lleguen, son guapas y pobres. Fíjese bien: guapas y pobres. La más rica de todas va a heredar diez mil duros y un piano, o alrededor de eso, no ni siquiera eso. [. . .] Pues esas señoritas a que me vengo refiriendo no suelen llevar consigo otra dote que su virginidad. Y de tal manera se ha hecho de esto una especie de mito, que la presunción de su falta o la certeza, salvo en el caso de las viudas, lleva consigo una especie de castigo social. [. . .] O dicho de manera más clara: todos están de acuerdo en que la virginidad es la condición indispensable, y que sin ella no hay reputación ni hay matrimonio. Todo lo cual se aplica al caso de su hermana, cuya virtud, en esa carta, se pone en tela de juicio. (144-45)

191 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Thus, even going along with the conservative values and marrying might not be an option for Chon, leaving her to become something of a pariah in the town.

Time passes between Part II and Part III of Chon Recalde, allowing for Cristina to

leave for the United States (though finally settling in London) and Pauliña to become

married. Chon and Cristina’s guardian, la tía Rosa, her health failing, asks that Regino

take care of Chon upon her death. Once la tía Rosa dies, and with Cristina in England

(and eventually expecting), Chon is left with no one. She rents out la tía Rosa’s piso to

Pauliña and Pepe. Pauliña gives birth to her child there, and Chon’s impromptu

assistance in the birthing process has the unexpected result that, “por primera vez sintió

envidia por Pauliña” (203). Chon helps look after the baby when Pauliña and Pepe are

away from home, quickly bonds with it, prompting many women in town to conclude that

“lo que Chon necesitaba era tener un hijo, y antes casarse, claro, porque tener un hijo por

las buenas estaba mal visto” (205). Chon considers her prospects and realizes that

Regino is the only one who is still around to spend time with her. She then asks Regino

to marry her, which probably was not a common occurrence during the time. The irony

in this is that Regino is some 15 or 20 years older than Chon, and had previously courted

Chon’s mother from afar before she eventually married Chon’s father. In addition,

Regino has been unable to serve in the military in any capacity, thanks to Regino’s

missing a hand. Even settling for a solution which seems a compromise or claudication

like this brings difficulties for Chon, thanks to their initial choice of Regino’s aunt for

madrina at the wedding: “La tía Matilde dijo que sí al principio, pero se volvió

inmediatamente atrás cuando supo que la novia era Chon. La tía Matilde era muy del

192 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 régimen y Chon, al fin y al cabo, la hija de un fusilado” (209). Nevertheless, the two succeed in finding a replacement madrina.

Despite inclement weather (principally rain, supposedly an evil omen according to popular superstition), the two wed, leading to a bittersweet ending to Chon Recalde.

Yet, the narrative voice offers a bit of redemption: Regino contemplates Chon, who “iba

a ser su esposa según todas las leyes, a pesar de la manquedad y de lo que se había dicho de ella años atrás, y que los hechos iban a demostrar que era falso” (213). The conventional ending to La boda de Chon Recalde makes the novel seem anti-climactic,

though the title character’s circumstances lead even that to be a defiant act. The subtext

of the novel is precisely about the lack of alternatives available to women during the

immediate post-war period of Twentieth Century Spain. Considering that most of

Torrente’s protagonists are male, the fact that the two principal characters in Chon

Recalde are women makes it a singular novelty among Torrente’s final literary works.

In both La novela de Pepe Ansúrez and La boda de Chon Recalde, the characters

must contend with provincial attitudes which bring the female protagonists’ honor into

question. In each novel the problems boil down to allegations of sexual misconduct, and

make it seem that the action described in the novels’ titles (Pepe’s novel and Chon’s

wedding) will not occur. The different time period of each of the novels yields slightly

different results. In Pepe Ansúrez, the title character accepts that the Bank will not fund

the publication of his novel. Despite gossip regarding his fiancée, he still marries her and

the two are happy together at the close of the novel. In Chon Recalde, however, the same

gossip causes the title character to suffer various setbacks, preventing the possibility of

193 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 her having a meaningful relationship with either of two young suitors. Chon is forced to accept what is clearly considered a compromise which will allow her to have a male protector, a respectable if “imperfect” older man who will allow her to achieve the motherhood she has come to desire, as well as the only socially acceptable situation for a woman under “el nacionalcatolicismo” and the Franco dictatorship. By no means a fairy- tale ending, it is nonetheless a “tolerable” solution for Chon and far better than attempting to live out her days as a spinster under a regime which demonized unmarried women. However, through narrative in both La novela de Pepe Ansúrez and La boda de

Chon Recalde, the reader discovers that rumors about each of the women’s lack of

virginity were unfounded, thus affording some vindication to them.

1 Janet Pérez, ““Text, Context, and Subtext in Torrente Ballester’s Filomeno, a mi pesar,” Letras Peninsulares 2.3 (Winter 1989): 341-362.

2 See discussion of La muerte del Decano later in this chapter.

3 Francisca and Stephen Miller, “Lo político-literario en Gonzalo Torrente Ballester: entrevista con el escritor en Salamanca el 20 de junio de 1987,” in Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, eds. Janet Pérez and Stephen Miller (Boulder, CO: Society of Spanish and Spanish American Studies, 1988) 179-193.

4 See Carmen Becerra, “Juegos de la autoficción en Los años indecisos,” La Tabla Redonda 4 (2006): 73-89.

5 See Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, “Encuentro el ‘el viejo almacén,’” Cotufas del golfo (Barcelona: Destino, 1986) 375-378.

6 Janet Pérez, “Writing, Writers and the Writer in the Novels of Torrente Ballester as Exemplified in Los años indecisos,” Confluencia 16.2 (Spring 2001): 61-70.

7 See Alicia Molero de la Iglesia, “Figuras y significados de la autonovelación,” Espéculo: Revista de estudios literarios 33 (July-Oct. 2006): n. pag. Web. 18 Sept. 2011. .

194 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

8 See “Juegos de la autoficción” 83-87

9 See “Juegos de la autoficción” 81-83.

10 Richard Curry, “Un caso de fidelidad intertextual: El rey pasmado en novela y en cine,” La Tabla Redonda 5 (2007): 13-26.

11 Gonzalo Navajas, “La historia anti-épica en Crónica del rey pasmado de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester,” La Tabla Redonda 5 (2007): 1-11.

12 Mechthild Albert, “Iglesia e Inquisición en Crónica del rey pasmado de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester y Limpieza de sangre de Arturo Pérez-Reverte,” La Tabla Redonda, Número extraordinario (2010): 1-23.

13 Janet Pérez has astutely commented on the ongoing motif of the “impotence of power.” Far from limited to an overwhelming lack of financial freedom, “the supposedly all-powerful monarch must contend with limitation of his personal movements by protocol and those functionaries for whom protocol has become an end in itself and/ or instrument of control or power (and abuse thereof).” See “The Impotence of Power in Recent Novels of Torrente,” 167.

14 This perhaps is meant to be a commentary on the Church’s tendency towards bureaucracy and red tape.

15 See Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, Don Juan (Barcelona: Destino, 1963, 5th ed. in Destinolibro, 1989), 278-279.

16 See Seymour Menton, Latin America’s New Historical Novel (Austin: U of Austin P, 1993) 22-24.

17 See Janet Pérez, “The Impotence of Power in Recent Novels of Torrente,” Revista Hispánica Moderna 48.1 (June 1995): 160-170.

18 See José Miranda Ogando, “Entrevista: ‘Todos los dictadores eran bajitos,’” Cambio 16 1197 (31 Oct. 1994): 80-83. Cited in Stephen Miller, “El último estilo creativo de Torrente Ballester: la narración esquemática (1989-1999),” La Tabla Redonda 5 (2007): iii.

19 See Tzvetan Todorov, The Fantastic: A Structural Approach to a Literary Genre, trans. Richard Howard (Ithaca, NY: Cornell UP, 1975), originally Introduction á la littérature fantastique (Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1970). Todorov defines the Fantastic as “that hesitation experienced by a person who knows only the laws of nature, confronting an apparently supernatural event” (25).

195 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

20 “La editorial Espasa Calpe tenía previsto originalmente la publicación de este libro en su colección Espasa Juvenil. En homenaje a Gonzalo Torrente Ballester ha decidido que la primera edición de Doménica, su última obra, se edite en un formato y colección especial para todos sus lectores jóvenes y adultos.”

21 The following analysis was first delivered as a much more brief presentation at the 63rd Annual Kentucky Foreign Language Conference, University of Kentucky, Lexington, KY: April 15-17, 2010.

22 See Janet Pérez, “The Impotence of Power in Recent Novels of Torrente,” Revista Hispánica Moderna 48.1 (June 1995): 160-170.

23 “Y el doctor, que era un viejecito mariquita con cara muy inteligente, me fue presentado como el profesor Martín, sin más, aunque luego pude colegir que era el decano perpetuo de la Facultad de Ciencias Políticas, en la Universidad” (61-62).

24 Colmeiro posits 1948 as the exact year. See José Colmeiro, “Historia y metaficción en La muerte del Decano de Torrente Ballester: Crónica posmoderna de una muerte anunciada,” La Tabla Redonda 2 (2004): 140. This is supported in the novel. See La muerte 139.

25 Genaro Pérez considers the various clues in La muerte del Decano, as well as possible causes of death of the Dean. See “La muerte del Decano: ¿Suicidio, asesinato, accidente?” Hispanófila 135 (2002): 61-71.

26 The reader should note the thinnest of connections between this hypothesis and the actions of the Detective in Las islas extraordinarias. In both cases, Torrente presents the notion of killing as a form of protection: in Las islas, it is the Detective who kills the Dictator to protect Gina (albeit as a result of a grave misunderstanding). In La muerte, although the Dean’s death is ultimately ruled a suicide, Francisca says she thought Don Enrique could only be capable of killing the Dean to keep her from doing the deed herself.

27 There is a reference to the growing use of computers in the workplace in Pepe Ansúrez, as well as the need to hire someone to teach the employees how to use it. See Pepe Ansúrez 36.

28 María Luis Gamallo, “Sobre la recepción en Francia de Crónica del rey pasmado, La novela de Pepe Ansúrez y La boda de Chon Recalde,” La Tabla Redonda 5 (2007): 27-32.

196 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

29 See José Miranda Ogando, “Entrevista: ‘Todos los dictadores eran bajitos,’” Cambio 16 1197 (31 Oct 1994): 80-83. Cited in Stephen Miller, “El último estilo creativo de Torrente Ballester: la narración esquemática (1989-1999),” La Tabla Redonda 5 (2007): iii.

30 José A. Ponte Far has dedicated much work to the presence of Galicia in Torrente’s writings, maintaining that:

a Ferrol le dedica Torrente muchas páginas en su obra literaria. La mayoría, en sus novelas, bien cuando alude directamente a la ciudad, tomándola como escenario de los hechos narrados [. . .]. Y no sólo recurre a Ferrol para escenario real o imaginario de sus novelas, sino que utiliza con gran profusión materiales de todo tipo—anécdotas, vivencias, personajes, etc.—de procedencia ferrolana. (182)

See José A. Ponte Far, “Galicia en los cuadernos de trabajo de Torrente Ballester (Cuadernos de la Romana, Nuevos cuadernos de la Romana, Los cuadernos de un vate vago),” La creación literaria de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, ed. Ángel Abuín, Carmen Becerra, et al. (Vigo, Pontevedra: Tambre, 1997) 175-192.

31 See Frieda Blackwell, “Narrative Perspective in La novela de Pepe Ansúrez by Torrente Ballester,” La Tabla Redonda 5 (2007): 67-80.

32 This question will return in Torrente’s next novel, La boda de Chon Recalde, and will prove to be one of the most important elements of that novel and the outcome of its eponymous character.

33 See Bridget Alderaca, El ángel del hogar: Galdós and the Ideology of Domesticity in Spain (Chapel Hill: U of North Carolina P, 1991).

34 Carmen Martín Gaite offers excellent insight into conditions for women in postwar Spain. See Usos amorosos de la postguerra española (Barcelona: Anagrama, 1987).

197 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

CHAPTER VI

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS

The intent of the present study has been to illustrate the importance of considering the novels Torrente published during the final decade of his life, as well as his one posthumous novel, as crucial final components to studies of the Galician’s literature.

Torrente’s final novels are typically shorter and more synoptic, owing largely to the pressure the Galician felt to publish his ideas before his approaching death. Some of the storylines, deceptively simple at first glance, belie a thought process much deeper, a characteristic found in most of Torrente’s works. One important commonality in

Torrente’s final novels (with the exception of his posthumous novel, Doménica) is their

tendency not only to represent the Spain in which Torrente lived, but also to contradict or

subvert many of the national myths created and maintained by the Franco regime following the Spanish Civil War. As a historian and a history teacher, Torrente always dedicated his energies to reflecting a faithful representation of the world around him, at the same time as he rejected versions of history which he knew were false. Thus, the themes and ideas presented in Torrente’s final novels are a continuation, and at times refinements, of those found in his earlier literary and critical works.

This study has sought to perform a deeper investigation of these novels to demonstrate their relevance to overall Torrente studies, rather than enforcing incipient

presumptions that they were weak and irrelevant, addenda to a previously illustrious

literary career. First, it was important to include a section highlighting key events in

198 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Torrente’s life, as this helped to form a foundation for understanding why he made certain decisions and did some of the things that he did. Next, a review of the relevant criticism published on Torrente during the last three decades—beginning after the publication of the final installment of the “fantastic trilogy,” La isla de los jacintos

cortados (1980)—helps one to appreciate the growing number of publications examining

the Galician writer during this time. Much of the criticism published on Torrente still

focuses on a core group of his literary works, including the “fantastic trilogy,” Don Juan, and a few others. It is refreshing to see that more recent studies have become more well- rounded, lending critical insight to Torrente’s previously-untouched or insufficiently studied novels, short stories, theatre, and essays.

Following the review of the criticism, the present study then provided a theoretical frame within which to consider Torrente’s final novels. This theoretical frame emphasized theories of Hayden White pertaining to the New Historicism, as well as others of Seymour Menton and Fernando Aínsa concerning the New Historical Novel.

While the latter, with its requirement that the time period involved not be personally experienced by the author, limits its use in the present study to only one novel (Crónica

del rey pasmado), the former proves invaluable with its expanded versatility, broader

applicability and freedom to work in the present, including even the authors’ lifetimes.

The New Historicism operated as a reaction to the theories of New Criticism. Where

New Criticism insisted that the text itself held all the answers to its interpretation, New

Historicism maintained that literary interpretation must not be performed in a vacuum.

Furthermore, New Historicism treats historical texts much like literature: rather than as a

199 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 more scientific, purely objective form of writing, historical texts are thought to be subjective, influenced by a wide variety of factors. Most importantly, as the saying goes,

“history is written by the victors.” Thus, the representation of historical events is often skewed in favor of those in power. At the same time, New Historicism reevaluates literature and other publications in terms of their historical value. This goes hand in hand with Torrente’s extensive implementation of New Historicism’s mottoes that “history is fiction” and “fiction is history.”

Having established and outlined the essential theoretical frame, this study proceeded to the analysis of Torrente’s final works. The eight novels were divided into four pairs, thereby facilitating a comparison and contrast of one or two themes found to be particularly important in each pair. In the case of Filomeno, a mi pesar (1988) and

Los años indecisos (1997), the analysis focused on certain apparent autobiographical

aspects as well as Torrente’s careful representation of some of the most important events

in Spain during the first half Twentieth-Century. It also took note of the changes in

Torrente’s writing style which occurred with the publication of Filomeno, as well as the

fact that this novel directly and openly represented Spain during the Twentieth Century,

in contrast to the allegorical manner in which several of Torrente’s works had prudently

referred to modern-day Spain during the decades of the Franco dictatorship.

For Crónica del rey pasmado (1989) and Doménica (1999), discussion centered

on aspects of folklore, the supernatural, and superstition, present to varying extents in

both. These two novels do not initially appear to share common traits sufficient to allow

comparison, since the first portrays the Spanish court of centuries past and the second

200 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 appears to be a fairy tale meant solely to entertain children. However, Torrente’s extensive parodies of the Franco regime make it seem at times as though the Franco regime’s national myth of postwar Spain is just as much a fairy tale. Likewise, the characters of Crónica represent a much less scientifically-enlightened time, during which

people would base their observations on superstition and beliefs in the existence of

magic, witchcraft, demons, and monsters rather than logic. Thus, in either of these

novels, the characters readily accept certain more fantastic elements to be the result of magic, rather than inspecting them and trying to uncover their true meaning. The problem in Crónica occurs when people in power (i.e., the Church and aristocracy) try to

exploit popular superstition and credulity to their advantage, pushing their own agenda even when it means they must supplant the will of a very young and inexperienced King.

The section of the analysis chapter devoted to Las islas extraordinarias (1991) and

La muerte del Decano (1992) focuses largely on the spy and detective genres, as well as

the ways in which these novels do not adhere very closely to traditional models and

outcomes for the genre. In the typical spy novel, the good guys defeat the bad guys, averting some kind of cataclysmic event such as a terrorist attack. Similarly, in the

detective novel, the sleuth must examine clues to a crime in order to discover the identity

of the person who committed that crime, ultimately bringing the criminal to justice.

Therefore, a typical ending would resolve the mystery in each case, i.e., clarify the

unknowns in the death of the Dean, especially who and how. Similarly, it would cast

light into the murky areas of Las islas, instead of leaving readers to wonder what forces were behind the set-up which led the private investigator to assassinate the dictator whose

201 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 life he had been hired to protect. Theorists have stressed the essentially epistemological nature of those two closely related sub-genres, in that both involve a search for knowledge, restoring order and satisfying the curiosity of the reader. However, in the case of Las islas and La muerte, the reader is left with just as much uncertainty at the end

of the novels as when the novels began. Torrente parodies the process of criminal

investigation and detective work in each of the novels, as well as the “academic

detection” hinted at in La muerte. Torrente also finds a few moments to portray university administrators in a humorous fashion in La muerte, along with parodying the

bumbling, bungling “sleuths” who only succeed in muddying the already murky waters.

Torrente thereby mocks and subverts the traditions of both sub-genres, along with reader

expectations, while having managed to create such unsympathetic “victims” the readers

remain indifferent to the apparent miscarriage of justice.

The final section of the analysis chapter is devoted to La novela de Pepe Ansúrez

(1994) and La novela de Chon Recalde (1995). As was the case with Las islas and La

muerte, Pepe Ansúrez and Chon Recalde were published one after the other; however, the

action of Pepe Ansúrez takes place in the Democracia, whereas Chon Recalde is set

during the immediate postwar era. In these novels, the focus centered on provincial

attitudes in small Spanish towns, something with which Torrente was all too familiar.

The title character of Pepe Ansúrez is an aspiring writer working for a bank and

preparing for his nuptials while contemplating writing a novel. The title character of

Chon Recalde has just been relocated from Madrid to the town of her birth following the

Falangist execution of her father as a traitor. Chon contemplates marriage as one of the

202 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 only manners in which to cope with the increasingly hostile and stifling social climate.

Each novel posits a situation in which the main female character’s virginity is in doubt, calling into question her honor. While the outcome is different corresponding to the vastly different eras represented in these two novels, it is nevertheless important to remember that the inhabitants of the small town in both novels operate based on malicious gossip and closed-mindedness. This could indicate that, although Spain is a

Democracia no longer controlled by a fascist dictatorship, there remains much room for improvement in what generations of writers in Spain have euphemistically referred to as

“women’s condition.” One important preoccupation appearing in both Pepe Ansúrez and

Chon Recalde is the need for intelligence rather than ignorance, open-mindedness rather than closed-mindedness, and a willingness to accept people for their differences rather than a blind rejection of them because they do not conform to stereotypes or preconceived notions.

Gonzalo Torrente Ballester has belatedly assumed his rightful position as one of the greatest and most highly respected figures of Twentieth Century Spanish literature.

Although critical attention paid to him and his literary work was quite uneven for much of his life, it has notably accelerated following the Galician’s death and, a decade later, critical attention has exploded with the celebrations marking the centennial of his birth.

Still, much of the criticism performed on Torrente’s literature continues to focus on only a handful of his works, centering on only two decades of a six-decade writing career, suggesting that earlier works and later works were judged not by their own merits but by the standards set by such novels as Don Juan or the “fantastic trilogy;” i.e., not only in

203 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011 comparison with works written by Torrente in the apex of his literary talents, but at the height of his popularity, which meant still more enthusiastic, favorable receptions for those novels. But his later works, in particular those published during the 1990s, should not so readily be dismissed as mere entertainments or weak rehashes of earlier work by a man whose apex has come and gone. These works are the product of a prolific and resourceful creator who successfully published several of his most important works in spite of harsh censorship imposed and maintained by a fascist dictatorship. Those later writings constitute a continuation and refinement of important themes found in Torrente’s earlier works, exploring previously forbidden themes more openly than possible ever before. More importantly, the final literary works Torrente published are an extension and in some cases deepening of works he produced as a mature writer whose skills rival those of the most lauded authors living in Spain during the Twentieth Century.

All of the novels studied here are solid literary achievements, and most if not all deserve further critical attention in the future. The year-long centennial celebrations might have come to a close, but Torrente’s literary works (as well as his essays and literary criticism) will remain an important part of Twentieth Century Spanish literature, having secured the Galician writer a rightful place of lasting prominence in Hispanic letters. Much remains to be done by future scholars in the ongoing discussion of

Torrente’s life and works and their impact on Spanish literature, not the least of which must be learning to read Torrente at an appropriate distance from the narrow ideological disputes sullying many observers’ appreciations of Torrente’s breadth, his humor, and his incredible humanity. Torrente has yet to benefit from the spirit behind the “Ley de

204 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Memoria Histórica,” receiving credit for the risks took and the ills he denounced in the course of producing an irreplaceable testimony of his time which has yet to be fully appreciated.

205 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

WORKS CITED

Abuín, Ángel, Carmen Becerra, et al., eds. La creación literaria de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester. Vigo, Pontevedra: Tambre, 1997.

Aínsa, Fernando. “La reescritura de la historia en la nueva narrativa latinoamericana.” Cuadernos Americanos 28 (July-August 1991): 13-31.

---. “La nueva novela histórica latinoamericana.” Plural 240 (Sept. 1991): 82-85.

Albert, Mechthild. “Iglesia e Inquisición en Crónica del rey pasmado de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester y Limpieza de sangre de Arturo Pérez-Reverte.” La Tabla Redonda Número extraordinario (2010): 1-23.

Alderaca, Bridget. El ángel del hogar: Galdós and the Ideology of Domesticity in Spain. Chapel Hill: U of North Carolina P, 1991.

Alonso, Eduardo. “La fabulación ‘como si.’” Abuín, Becerra, et al. 23-34.

Álvarez-Blanco, Palmar. “Filomeno, a [su] pesar. El testimonio de un intelectual de la novela hacia 1988.” La Tabla Redonda Número extraordinario (2010): 25-40.

Basanta, Ángel. “Gonzalo Torrente Ballester en los 80: Últimas novelas del autor.” Abuín, Becerra, et al. 111-27.

Becerra, Carmen. Gonzalo Torrente Ballester. Madrid: Ministerio de Cultura, 1982.

---. Guardo la voz, cedo la palabra: Conversaciones con Gonzalo Torrente Ballester. Barcelona: Anthropos, 1990.

---. “Juego y parodia de la identidad en Yo no soy yo, evidentemente.” Pérez and Miller 99-106.

---. “Contribución al estudio del significado de Don Juan en la versión de Torrente Ballester.” Abuín, Becerra, et al. 129-161.

---. La historia en la ficción: La narrativa de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester. Madrid: Ediciones del Orto, 2005.

---. “Juegos de la autoficción en Los años indecisos.” La Tabla Redonda 4 (2006): 73-89.

206 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

---. Los géneros populares en la narrativa de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester: la novela policíaca. Vigo: Academia del Hispanismo, 2007.

Becerra, Carmen, and Emilie Guyard, eds. Los juegos de la identidad movediza en la obra de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester. Vigo: Academia del Hispanismo, 2008. Benítez, Margarita. “Parodia y subversión en las primeras novelas de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester.” Pérez and Miller 107-112.

Blackwell, Frieda. The Game of Literature: Demythification and Parody in Novels of Gonzalo Torrente Ballester. Valencia: Albatros, 1985.

---. “Literature within Literature in Novels of Gonzalo Torrente Ballester.” Pérez and Miller 113-126.

---. “Gonzalo Torrente Ballester.” In Twentieth-Century Spanish Fiction Writers, ed. Marta E. Altisent and Cristina Martínez-Carazo. Dictionary of Literary Biography Ser. 322. Detroit: Gale, 2006. 328-36.

---. “Narrative Perspective in La novela de Pepe Ansúrez by Torrente Ballester.” La Tabla Redonda 5 (2007): 67-80.

Brannigan, John. “History, Power and Politics in the Literary Artifact: New Historicism.” Introducing Literary Theories. A Guide and Glossary, ed. Julian Wolfreys. Edinburgh, Scotland: Edinburgh UP. 169-84.

Cela, Camilo José. La familia de Pascual Duarte. Madrid: Aldecoa, 1942.

---. La colmena. Buenos Aires: Emecé, 1951.

Charchalis, Wojciech. El realismo mágico en la perspectiva europea. El caso de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester. New York: Peter Lang, 2005.

Colmeiro, José. “Historia y metaficción en La muerte del Decano de Torrente Ballester: Crónica postmoderna de una muerte anunciada.” La Tabla Redonda 2 (2004): 135-150.

Curry, Richard. “Un caso de fidelidad intertextual: El rey pasmado en novela y en cine.” La Tabla Redonda 5 (2007): 13-26.

Fernández Prieto, Celia. Historia y novela: Poética de la novela histórica. Pamplona: Ediciones Universidad de Navarra, 1998.

Frye, Northrop. El camino crítico. Madrid: Taurus, Col. Persiles, 1986. 32-33.

207 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Gallagher, Catherine, and Stephen Greenblatt, eds. Practicing New Historicism. Chicago and London: U of Chicago P, 2000.

Gil González, Antonio J. Relatos de poética: Para una poética del relato de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester. Santiago de Compostela: U of Santiago de Compostela, 2003.

Giménez (Bartlett), Alicia. Torrente Ballester: El autor y su obra. Barcelona: Barcanova, 1981.

---. Torrente Ballester en su mundo literario. Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, Biblioteca de la Caja de Ahorros y Monte de Piedad de Salamanca, 1984.

Gimferrer, Pere. “Otras inquisiciones: La saga/ fuga de J.B.” Destino, Barcelona, 29 July 1972.

Glenn, Kathleen. “Myth and Metaphor in Quizá nos lleve el viento al infinito.” Pérez and Miller 71-78.

Gómez López-Quiñones, Antonio. “La historia como laberinto textual.” Monographic Review/ Revista Monográfica 19 (2003): 123-138.

Herzberger, David K. “Fragmentos de apocalipsis and the Meaning of the Metafictional Character.” Pérez and Miller 33-43.

Hickey, Leo. “Floutings of the Consistency Maxim in La princesa durmiente va a la escuela.” Pérez and Miller 19-31.

Jenkins, Keith. “Why Bother with the Past?” Rethinking History 1.1 (1997): 56-66.

---. “After History.” Rethinking History 3.1 (1999): 7-20.

Jiménez, Luis A. “La parodia en la reescritura laberíntica de la historia: Rut, la que huyó de la Biblia de Josefina Leyva.” Monographic Review/ Revista Monográfica 19 (2003): 264-277.

Lavaud-Fage, Eliane. “Torrente Ballester y la crítica genética.” Abuín, Becerra, et al. 163-173.

“Ley de Memoria Histórica de España,” Wikipedia. 16 Mar 2011. Web. 24 Mar. 2011.

López Torres, Santiago, and Jaime Carbajo Romero. “El juego silábico en La saga/ fuga de J.B.” Pérez and Miller 45-51.

208 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Loureiro, Ángel. Mentira y seducción: La trilogía fantástica de Torrente Ballester. Madrid: Castalia, 1990.

---. “Torrente Ballester, novelista postmoderno.” Abuín, Becerra, et al. 61-76.

Luis Gamallo, María. “Sobre la recepción en Francia de Crónica del rey pasmado, La novela de Pepe Ansúrez y La boda de Chon Recalde.” La Tabla Redonda 5 (2007): 27-32.

Martín Gaite, Carmen. Usos amorosos de la postguerra española. Barcelona: Anagrama, 1987.

Mazquiarán de Rodríguez, Mercedes. “Haunting Voices from Fort Nativity in José Manuel Fajardo’s Carta del fin del mundo.” Monographic Review/ Revista Monográfica 19 (2003): 49-62.

Menton, Seymour. Latin America’s New Historical Novel. Austin: U of Texas P, 1993.

“Miguel Delibes Setién y Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, Premio Príncipe de Asturias 1982.” Fundación Príncipe de Asturias. Web. 25 Mar 2011. .

Miller, Stephen. “El último estilo creativo de Torrente Ballester: la narración esquemática (1989-1999).” La Tabla Redonda 5 (2007): i-x.

Miller, Francisca and Stephen Miller. “Lo político-literario en Gonzalo Torrente Ballester: entrevista con el escritor en Salamanca el 20 de junio de 1987.” Pérez and Miller 179-193.

Miranda Ogando, José. “Entrevista: ‘Todos los dictadores eran bajitos.’” Cambio 16 1197 (31 Oct 1994): 80-83.

Moa, Pío. Años de hierro: España en la posguerra, 1939-1945. Madrid: La Esfera de los Libros, 2007.

Molero de la Iglesia, Alicia. “Figuras y significados de la autonovelación.” Espéculo: Revista de estudios literarios 33 (July-Oct. 2006): n. pag. Web. 18 Sept. 2011. .

Navajas, Gonzalo. “La historia anti-épica en Crónica del rey pasmado de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester.” La Tabla Redonda 5 (2007): 1-11.

209 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

“New Historicism.” Wikipedia. 2 July 2011. Web. 18 Sept. 2011. .

Nugent, Robert. “El viaje del joven Tobías and the Quest for Purity.” Pérez and Miller 13-18.

Overesch-Maister, Lynne E. “History in Fiction and Fiction in History in the Novels of Gonzalo Torrente Ballester.” Pérez and Miller 127-139.

Paulino, José, and Carmen Becerra, eds. Compás de Letras. Gonzalo Torrente Ballester. Madrid: Complutense, 2001.

Pérez, Genaro. “Préstamos literarios/ intertextualidad en La saga/ fuga.” Pérez and Miller 53-60.

---. La novela como burla/ juego: Siete experimentos novelescos de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester. Valencia: Albatros, 1989.

---. “La muerte del Decano: ¿Suicidio, asesinato, accidente?” Hispanófila 135 (2002): 61- 71.

Pérez, Janet. Gonzalo Torrente Ballester. Boston: Twayne, 1984.

---. “La rosa de los vientos: Compendium of Torrente’s Novelistic Art and Historiographic Speculation.” Pérez and Miller 79-97.

---. “Text, Context, and Subtext in Torrente Ballester’s Filomeno, a mi pesar.” Letras Peninsulares 2.3 (Winter 1989): 341-362.

---. “The Impotence of Power in Recent Novels of Torrente.” Revista Hispánica Moderna 48.1 (June 1995): 160-170.

---. “Sátiras del poder en la narrativa de Torrente.” Abuín, Becerra, et al. 77-98.

---. “As novelas ‘menores’ de Torrente á luz do neohistoricismo.” Revista Galega do Ensino 18 (Feb. 1998): 43-71.

---. “Text and Context of Carme Riera’s En el último azul.” Letras Peninsulares 12.2-3 (Fall 1999/ Winter 2000): 239-254.

---. “Writing, Writers, and the Writer in the Novels of Torrente Ballester as Exemplified in Los años indecisos.” Confluencia 16.2 (Spring 2001): 61-70.

210 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

---. “Leonardo Padura Fuentes: La novela de mi vida. Academic Detecting and the novela negra.” Hispanófila 143 (Jan. 2005): 111-20.

---. “Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, precursor de la ‘nueva novela española.’” La Tabla Redonda Número extraordinario (2010): 175-187.

Pérez, Janet, and Stephen Miller, eds. Critical Studies on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester. Boulder, CO: Society of Spanish and Spanish-American Studies, 1988.

Pérez Gutiérrez, Amparo. “Motivos apocalípticos en La isla de los jacintos cortados y sus nexos con las primeras partes de la trilogía.” Pérez and Miller 61-70.

Ponte Far, José A. Galica en la obra narrativa de Torrente Ballester. A Coruña: Tambre, 1994.

---. “Galicia en los cuadernos de trabajo de Torrente Ballester (Cuadernos de la Romana, Nuevos cuadernos de la Romana, Los cuadernos de un vate vago).” Abuín, Becerra, et al. 175-192.

Pozuelo, José María. “Realidad, ficción, y semiótica de la cultura.” La novela histórica a finales del siglo XX, eds. José Ramera et al. (Madrid: Visor, 1996): 97-107.

Quinn-Sánchez, Kathryn. “Historical Fiction/ Fictitious History: Boullosa’s Llanto: Novelas imposibles.” Monographic Review/ Revista Monográfica 19 (2003): 153- 163.

Rousset, Jean. Le mythe de Don Juan. Paris: Armand Colin, 1978.

Ruiz Baños, Sagrario. “La novela intelectual de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester.” Diss. U of Murcia (Spain), 1989. Print.

---. “La construcción ficcional en Gonzalo Torrente Ballester.” Abuín, Becerra, et al. 35- 60.

Sepúlveda, Luis. “Prólogo.” In José Manuel Fajardo. Carta del fin del mundo. Barcelona: Ediciones B, 1998. 7-10.

Smith, Colin. “Crónica del rey pasmado. Una tapicería de ilusiones.” Abril 12 (1996): 45- 52.

Sobejano, Gonzalo. “La novela poemática y sus alrededores.” Ínsula 464-465 (July- August 1985): 26.

211 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

Sotelo Vázquez, Adolfo. “Acerca de Camilo José Cela y Gonzalo Torrente Ballester.” La Tabla Redonda Número extraordinario (2010): 189-205.

Todorov, Tzvetan. The Fantastic: A Structural Approach to a Literary Genre. Trans. Richard Howard. Ithaca, NY: Cornell UP, 1975. Trans. of Introduction á la littérature fantastique. Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1970.

---. The Poetics of Prose. Trans. Richard Howard. Ithaca, NY: Cornell UP, 1977. Trans. of La Poétique de la prose. Paris: Seuil, 1971.

Torrente Ballester, Gonzalo. El viaje del joven Tobías: Milagro representable en siete coloquios. Bilbao: Jerarquía, 1938.

---. El casamiento engañoso. Auto sacramental. Madrid: Escorial, 1939.

---. Lope de Aguirre: Crónica dramática de la historia americana en tres jornadas. Madrid: Escorial, 1941.

---. Siete ensayos y una farsa (El pavoroso caso del señor Cualquiera). Madrid: Escorial, 1942.

---. República Barataria. Teomaquia en tres actos. Madrid: Escorial, 1942.

---. Javier Mariño. Madrid: Editora Nacional, 1943.

---. El retorno de Ulises. Madrid: Editora Nacional, 1946.

---. El golpe de estado de Guadalupe Limón. Madrid: Ediciones Nueva Época, 1946.

---. Literatura Española Contemporánea, 1898-1936. Madrid: Aguado, 1949.

---. Ifigenia. Madrid: Aguado, 1950.

---. Atardecer en Longwood. Madrid: Editorial Haz, 1950.

---. Farruquiño. Madrid: Ediciones Cid, 1954.

---. Panorama de la literatura española contemporánea. Two vols. Madrid: Guadarrama, 1956.

---. Teatro español contemporáneo. Madrid: Guadarrama, 1957.

212 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

---. Los gozos y las sombras. Three vols. Madrid: Arión, 1957-1962. Vol. I: El señor llega (1957); Vol. II: Donde da la vuelta el aire (1960); Vol. III: La Pascua triste (1962).

---. Don Juan. Barcelona: Destino, 1963.

---. Off-side. Barcelona: Destino, 1969.

---. La saga/ fuga de J.B. Barcelona: Destino, 1972.

---. El Quijote como juego. Barcelona: Destino, 1975.

---. Cuadernos de la Romana. Barcelona: Destino, 1975.

---. Nuevos cuadernos de la Romana. Barcelona: Destino, 1976.

---. Fragmentos de Apocalipsis. Barcelona: Destino, 1977.

---. Obra completa. Barcelona: Destino, 1977.

---. Las sombras recobradas. Barcelona: Planeta, 1979.

---. La isla de los jacintos cortados. Barcelona: Destino, 1980.

---. Los cuadernos de un vate vago. Barcelona: Plaza y Janés, 1982.

---. Teatro. Two vols. Barcelona: Destino, 1982.

---. La princesa durmiente va a la escuela. Barcelona: Plaza y Janés, 1983.

---. Dafne y ensueños. Barcelona: Destino, 1983.

---. Quizá nos lleve el viento al infinito. Barcelona: Plaza y Janés, 1984.

---. Compostela y su ángel. Barcelona: Destino, 1984.

---. El Quijote como juego y otros trabajos críticos. Barcelona: Destino, 1984.

---. La rosa de los vientos. Barcelona: Destino, 1985.

---. Cotufas en el golfo. Barcelona: Destino, 1986.

---. Ifigenia y otros cuentos. Barcelona: Destino, 1987.

213 Texas Tech University, Douglas Keith Anthis, December 2011

---. Yo no soy yo, evidentemente. Barcelona: Plaza y Janés, 1987.

---. Filomeno, a mi pesar. Barcelona: Planeta, 1988.

---. Lo mejor de Gonzalo Torrente Ballester. Barcelona: Seix Barral, 1989.

---. Crónica del rey pasmado. Barcelona: Planeta, 1989.

---. Santiago de Rosalía de Castro: Apuntes sobre la vida en Compostela en tiempos de Rosalía de Castro. Barcelona: Planeta, 1989.

---. Las islas extraordinarias. Barcelona: Planeta, 1991.

---. La muerte del Decano. Barcelona: Planeta, 1992.

---. Torre del aire. La Coruña: Excelentísima Diputación Provincial de A Coruña, 1992.

---. La novela de Pepe Ansúrez. Barcelona: Planeta, 1994.

---. La boda de Chon Recalde. Barcelona: Planeta, 1995.

---. Memoria de un inconformista. Madrid: Alianza Tres, 1997.

---. Los años indecisos. Barcelona: Planeta, 1997.

---. Memoria de un inconformista. Madrid: Alianza, 1997.

---. Doménica. Madrid: Espasa Calpe, 1999.

Torrente Fernández, Isabel. “La historia en la narrativa de Torrente Ballester.” Abuín, Becerra, et al. 99-110.

Uribe, Imanol. El rey pasmado. Aiete-Ariane Films, 1991.

Veeser, H. Aram, ed. The New Historicism. New York: Routledge, 1989.

White, Hayden.

---. Figural Realism: Studies in the Mimesis Effect. Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins UP, 1999.

214