Gender and Memory in the Postmillennial Novels of Almudena Grandes

Almudena Grandes is one of Spain’s foremost women’s writers, having sold over 1.1 million copies of her episodios de una guerra interminable, her six-volume series that ranges from the Spanish Civil War to the democratic period; the myriad prizes awarded to her, eighteen in total, confirm her pre-eminence. This book situates Grandes’ novels within gendered, philosophical and mnemonic theoretical concepts that illuminate hidden dimensions of her much-studied work. Lorraine Ryan considers and expands on existing critical work on Grandes’ oeuvre, proposing new avenues of interpretation and understanding. She seeks to debunk the arguments of those who portray Grandes as the proponent of a sectarian, eminently biased Republican memory by analysing the wide variety of gender and perpetrator memories that proliferate in her work. The intersection of perpetrator memory with masculinity, ecocriticism, medical ethics and the child’s perspectives confirms Grandes’ nuanced engagement with Spanish memory culture. Departing from a philosophical basis, Ryan reconfigures the Republican victim in the novels as a vulnerable subject who attempts to flourish, thus refuting the current critical opinion of the victim as overly empowered. The new perspectives produced in this monograph do not aim to suggest that Grandes is an advocate of perpetrator memory; rather, it suggests that Grandes is committed to a more pluralistic idea of memory culture, whereby her novels generate understanding of multiple victim, perpetrator and gender memories, an analysis that produces new and meaningful engagements with these novels. Thus, Ryan contends that Grandes’ historical novels are infinitely more complex and nuanced than heretofore conceived.

Lorraine Ryan is an award-winning lecturer in Hispanic Studies at the University of Birmingham, UK. Literary Criticism and Cultural Theory

Narrative Reliability, Racial Conficts and Ideology in the Modern Novel Marta Puxan-Oliva

Agamben’s Political Ontology of Nudity in Literature and Art Frances Restuccia

Conceptualisation and Exposition A Theory of Character Construction Lina Varotsi

Knots Post-Lacanian Psychoanalysis, Literature and Film Jean-Michel Rabaté

Double Trouble The Doppelgänger from Romanticism to Postmodernism Eran Dorfman

Literary Twinship from Shakespeare to the Age of Cloning Wieland Schwanebeck

Promiscuity in Western Literature Peter Stoneley

(In)digestion in Literature and Film A Transcultural Approach Edited by Niki Kiviat and Serena J. Rivera

Trans(in)fusion Reflections for Critical Thinking Ranjan Ghosh

Ghostly Encounters Cultural and Imaginary Representations of the Spectral from the Nineteenth Century to the Present Edited by Stefano Cracolici and Mark Sandy

Gender and Memory in the Postmillennial Novels of Almudena Grandes Lorraine Ryan

For more information about this series, please visit: https://www.routledge.com/ Literary-Criticism-and-Cultural-Theory/book-series/LITCRITANDCULT Gender and Memory in the Postmillennial Novels of Almudena Grandes

Lorraine Ryan First published 2021 by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 and by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2021 Taylor & Francis The right of Lorraine Ryan to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this title has been requested ISBN: 9780367655235 (hbk) ISBN: 9781003129899 (ebk) Typeset in Sabon by Deanta Global Publishing Services, Chennai, India To José, for everything.

Contents

Acknowledgements viii Introduction ix

1 Motherhood, Clothing and Class in Los aires difíciles 1

2 Memory, Gender and the Changing Spanish Family in El corazn helado 17

3 The Feminised Quest Romance in Inés y la alegría 37

4 Perpetration-Induced Traumatic Stress and the Gendered Reading Trope in El lector de Julio Verne 59

5 Internal Exile and Resistance in Las tres bodas de Manolita 86

6 Perpetration and the Stigma of Illness in Los pacientes del doctor García 113

Conclusion 143 Bibliography 150 Index 167 Acknowledgements

I would like to thank the following sources for their permission to reprint parts of the following articles/chapter.

“Motherhood, Clothing and Class in Almudena Grandes’ Los aires difíciles.” Bulletin of Spanish Studies, 95:1 (2018): 113–131. “Memory and Masculinity in Almudena Grandes’ El corazn helado”, In: Lorraine Ryan and Ana Corbálan´(eds.), The Dynamics of Masculinity in Contemporary Spanish Culture. London: Routledge, 2016. 80–96. “The Gendered Reading Trope in Almudena Grandes’ El lector de Julio Verne.” Neophilologus 99:2 (2015): 253–269. Introduction

Almudena Grandes is one of Spain’s foremost women’s writers, having sold over 1.1 million copies of her episodios de una guerra interminable, her six-volume series of historical novels. The myriad prizes awarded to her, eighteen in total, ranging from the 1989 IX Premio La Sonrisa Vertical to the 2018 Premio Nacional de Narrativa confirm her pre- eminence. Grandes’ novels have been translated into many languages and are known to both a non-specialist and a non-Spanish readership; in the Anglo-Saxon world; her best-known novels are The Ages of Lul, The Frozen Heart and The Wind from the East. This monograph situates Grandes’ major historical postmillennial novels – Los aires difíciles; El corazn helado; and four volumes of Los episodios de una guerra interminable: Inés y la alegría, El lector de Julio Verne, Las tres bodas de Manolita and Los pacientes del doctor García – within manifold conceptual categories in memory, philosophical and gender studies that illuminate hidden dimensions of her much-studied work. I have selected these particular works because they respond to key and heretofore unanalysed themes in her historical novels, such as perpetrator memory and different aspects of gender memory. More broadly, this analysis seeks to establish Spanish perpetrator memory as a major force in the European canon of cultural perpetrator memory. Premised on a wide-ranging theoretical framework that ranges from fashion studies to psychology, it aims to provide a new insight into perpetrator memory itself, which is demonstrated to be a relational phenomenon, intimately connected with affect, gender, the family, and personal relationships. Similarly, it seeks to challenge defeatist perceptions of victimhood by offering a new vision of the Republican victim as a vulnerable subject who seeks to flourish in inimical circumstances, which causes us to revalorise resilience in studies of victimhood. Critics have principally analysed Grandes’ oeuvre within the prism of Republican memory. It is thanks to academics, such Sara Fernández Medina, Helena Talaya and Irene Andrés Suárez, whose edited volumes on Grandes have uncovered a wealth of insights into these novels, as well as the single articles of scholars such as Carmen de Urioste, Julia Barnes, x Introduction Sebastiaan Faber, Sarah Leggott and Alvin F. Sherman that we have been able to consider Grandes’ work within the critical framework of Republican memory, space and exile. A problem particular to this approach is the scant attention paid to the representation of both the victim–perpetrator relationship and the variegation inherent in the perpetrator category in Grandes’ novels, which effectively means that the reader can only learn about the consequences of victimisation. Surely, no writer who aspires to represent the post-war period in all its full complexity as Grandes does can omit these issues, as to do so would be to present discrete, heroic and one-dimensional narratives that would deprive the reading public of a comprehensive and fully honed knowledge of the post-war period. Grandes is generally and, in my view, erroneously, perceived to be a sectarian writer who idealises the victims while condemning the perpetrators: in an interview, Joaquín Leguina criticised that “Grandes solo escribe de la Guerra Civil de forma maniquea” (qtd. in Riao). This indictment ignores her oft-reiterated desire to convey the more expansive memory of both “héroes y villanos” (qtd. in Aunin) and her stated interest in the ambiguities of perpetration and the conversion of ordinary people into perpetrators. In a 2012 webchat with readers, she declared that “No slo hubo perde- dores en el bando perdedor, y eso lo tengo presente” (Grandes, El País 2012). Furthermore, her conceptualisation of evil is not binary and static, but balanced, predicated on an acknowledgment of the difficulties in catego- risation. She avers:

Siempre he pensado que un malo para ser malo de verdad tiene que tener luces, porque un malo completamente malo, no asusta a nadie. Es una caricatura. Todos los seres humanos tenemos luces y sombras. Creo que los malos, verdaderamente malos, son aquellos capaces de querer a los demás y tener debilidades. (qtd in Barambio)

She adds: “creo que los seres humanos somos capaces de lo mejor y lo peor, en funcin de las circunstancias” (qtd. in Barambio). Thus, her novels manifest a considered and diverse engagement with perpetrator memory: El lector de Julio Verne is concerned with transforming the perception of perpetrators as reprobates to people with their own credible claims to humanity, who are influenced by social constructs that influence individual attitudes and behavior. Moreover, her redrawing of the perpetrators as the products of a fundamentally weak and corrupted social order in the same novel subverts the certainties that inhere in the easy dichotomisation of evil Falangists versus benign victims. Other novels, such as El corazn helado, Las tres bodas de Manolita and Los pacientes del doctor García, portray the confoundingly arbitrary nature of the individual motives that compel perpetration, as well as the gamut of consequences that arise from these acts. In these novels, the exaltation of the individual victim is complemented by the individualisation of the perpetrator, rendering Grandes’ treatment Introduction xi of memory far more equitable than previously thought. In fact, she is the one Spanish writer who has most engaged with perpetrator memory in her work, developing an original and complex perspective into the issue that transforms cultural perpetrator memory in Spain into a nuanced cultural phenomenon that makes a significant contribution to European perpetrator memory. In this study, I analyse the gamut of perpetrator memories in her work, ranging from the victim–perpetrator affective relationship in El corazn helado, the role of the child, and perpetrator suffering in El lector de Julio Verne to the authenticity of perpetrator trauma, the imbrication between medical ethics and perpetration, and the stigmatisation of the perpetrator body in Los pacientes del doctor García. My analysis of gender memory is similarly wide ranging, spanning from the imbrication of motherhood and class in Los aires difíciles to the memory of the queer city of Madrid in 1930s Spain, and female exile in Inés y la alegría. These new perspectives suggests that Grandes is committed to a more pluralistic idea of memory culture, whereby her novels generate understanding of multiple victim, perpetrator and gender memories, an analysis that produces novel and meaningful engagements with these novels. Based on a theoretical framework of vulnerability and flourishing, I also critique the critical conception of the Republican victim as overly empowered in her novels, reimagining victimhood as a more multidimensional experience than heretofore perceived. Overall, I contend that Grandes engages in complex portrayals of victimhood and suffering that undermine those very black-and-white distinctions that critics have, heretofore, identified, a re-evaluation that makes a compelling argument for a more nuanced reassessment of the authoress, and more extensively, disputes the cultural memory boom’s tendency to Manichaeism. In this introduction, I verse on Almudena Grandes’ trajectory and unpack her literary influences, particularly her indebtedness to Benito Pérez Galds. I proceed to assess the various criticisms leveled at her work and provide new interpretations for the salience of the emotions and agency in her work. I then examine the socio-cultural context of gender and perpetrator memory, outline the theoretical reformulation of the victim in her novels, and, finally, the chapters are summarised.

Almudena Grandes: Trajectory Almudena Grandes rose to prominence in 1989 with the publication of Las edades de Lul, a bildungsroman that chronicled the sexual liberation of the eponymous Lul under the tutelage of her older lover, Pablo. Despite the novel’s huge success, Grandes refused to become typecast as the high priestess of Spanish eroticism, embarking on a series of novels, Malena es un nombre de tango, Atlas de geografía humana and Los aires difíciles, that cemented her status as one of Spain’s leading women’s writers, a classification that she has virulently rejected: “La escritura tiene género, pero xii Introduction también edad, nacionalidad” (Grandes, El País 2002). Grandes, who was born on May 7, 1960, depicted the lives of professional, liberal, middle- class women living and working in the capital city, Madrid. Their formative years took place during the aperturista period when Spain developed into an industrialised and consumer society where the sudden emergence of liberal attitudes coexisted uneasily with the force of traditional mores. They were a generation of women, who, having been inculcated with reactionary dictates, encountered a wide range of personal liberties and professional opportunities available to them when they came of age in the post-Transi- tion period. From the outset, her novels demonstrated a concern with historical memory: Las edades de Lul memorialised male prison confinement in the 1960s, while Malena es un nombre de tango traced a genealogy of maternal dissent from the beginning of the twentieth century. Her 2002 novel Los aires difíciles is critically considered to be her hinge novel, a novel that interfuses gender and memory, thus marking her nascent and more substan- tive commitment to the cultural memorialisation of the Franco dictatorship and Civil War, which officially commenced with the 2007 publication of her magnum opus, El corazn helado. Grandes’ rewriting of the transgenerational recuperation of memory has made her one of the most prominent members of el boom de la memoria, the cultural movement to recuperate the past in Spain, a contentious terrain in which Republican writers narrativise Republican counter-memory, the memory of the defeated Republicans of the Civil War and Franco dictatorship. Grandes was initially motivated to become involved in the movement for the recuperation of historical memory by her daughter’s partisan history books.1 Perversely, the political manipu- lation of Republican memory for electoral purposes reinforced Grandes’ commitment, and she has lambasted the state interest in the opening of graves as a cynical electoral ploy (qtd. in Marzo). She reserved her greatest condemnation for the 2007 Ley de la Memoria Histrica as she considers that its failure to overturn judicial convictions renders it somewhat point- less: “Si no se van a anular los procesos, no sé de que estamos hablando” (qtd. in Marzo). Grandes opines that the law was an overtly timid measure that was easily overturned by the right-wing Partido Popular (PP), upon their assumption of power in 2011 when they embarked on a process of what she terms contramemoria, the dismantlement of the advances made in Spanish memory culture (qtd. in Pigna). It is important to note the persistence of Grandes’ commitment to historical memory even during the recession period when interest in historical memory waned and when many of her friends dismissed her incipient project, Los episodios de una guerra interminable, as a foolish endeavor in the straitened economic conjuncture (qtd. in Roldán and Soto). The naysayers’ views reflected the increasing devaluation of historical memory in the reces- sionary period, when the issue was appropriated by the right to argue that the gravity of the present situation obviated a concern with the past and Introduction xiii that the scarcity of resources made funding destined for historical memory unsustainable. For example, in the midst of debates about the transfer of Franco’s grave from Valle de los Caídos to his residence, El Pardo, PP politician Eduardo González Pons asserted that historical memory did not interest the Spanish populace, who were far more interested in reducing unemploy- ment (Agencias). In April 2012, the PP commenced its fiscal abandonment of the recuperation of historical memory. Its first budget reduced the annual amount conceded to the recuperation of memory from 6.2 million to 2.5 million, a drastic cut of 59.6 percent (Herrera). However, Grandes’ interest in the issue transcended the altered national mnemonic panorama, for she has always been appalled by the divergence between Spain’s inertia in relation to memory politics and the vigorous attempts of other European coun- tries to uncover their past, an abhorrence that compelled her to continue writing about this period (qtd. in Roldán and Soto). For her, the Argentine judge María Servini de Cubría’s indictment of Francoist torturers is a shame- ful reminder of Spain’s inability to render national justice (qtd. in Pigna). She also believes that Spain’s present and that future are predicated on the past, and she is that morally obligated to restore the memory of “muchos hombres y mujeres que se jugaron la vida para que nosotros tuviéramos democracia y libertades” (qtd. in Sainz Borgo). Her fictionalisation of the Republicans’ alienation marks her as one of Spain’s most socially committed writers, dedicated to reinscribing the lives of those who suffered marginalisation, due to their gendered or ideological nonconformity, into the contemporary Spanish psyche. An avowed admirer of the Spanish Second Republic, 1931–1936, she is resolute in her desire to retrieve what she judges to be an era in which Spain was at the pinnacle of its cultural and political prowess (qtd. in Anabitarte 4). The postmillennial novels of Almudena Grandes exemplify the predominant tendency of el boom de la memoria to corrode the Francoist vision of monumental history, a metanarrative that has become decidedly passé with the advent of an individualistic postmodernism. Michael Ugarte affirms that “with the end of the twentieth century, Franco (along with the authoritarian culture surrounding him) became somewhat of an enigmatic figure – strange, remotely connected to Spanish identity if at all” (617). His contention hints at the cultural shift that has been caused by the rise of “new history” (Burke 10), centering on the lives of non-elites and also the Spanish desire to extricate themselves from an insular past and position themselves at the vanguard of European progressive nations. These factors combined to create a distinct cultural phenomenon focused very much on the micro-social: it is how ordinary people react to their historically determined circumstances and negotiate the complex and interrelating web of personal relationships, the transformations of the social sphere and its separate units, and individuals’ private and often antithetical ideologies which primarily interest the cultural clerisy. This cultural trend is evidenced by films, such as La lengua de las mariposas, Laberinto del fauno and Pa negre; and novels such as Dulce xiv Introduction Chacn’s La voz dormida, José María Merino’s La sima and Javier Cercas’s Soldados de Salamina. For these artists, memory does not constitute a collective category but is instead an eminently subjective, cognitive, and emotional assimilation of key historical events, as a consequence of which the individual Republican is restored to prominence and his/her individual memory is privileged as a site of ideological and personal contestation and negotiation of the dominant memory. History as an explanatory framework has been displaced by memory, which, due to its perceived purity and cor- relation with authenticity, ethical propriety, and individual subjectivity, is considered a suitable conduit with which to express dissent.2 The cultural output of these writers has projected another vision of the conflict and its aftermath into that public sphere, one that has become firmly embedded in the Spanish national psyche.3 It has validated and fortified the civic movement for the recuperation of memory in Spain, lending further credibility to the human rights rhetoric that underpins their struggle. In other words, it instantiates the abstract notions of justice, dignity and inclusiveness, pro- viding readers with an accessible representation of the violation of these principles and the catastrophic consequences for Republican subjectivity in the post-war period. Grandes has exploited intense marketing strategies and technologies, including book launches; interviews on her publisher Tusquets’ website and in the press; and cinematic adaptations of her books Las edades de Lul, Los aires difíciles, Malena es un nombre de tango and Atlas de geografía humana, to increase her book sales and media visibility. Her weekly column in the El País Sunday supplement, her frequent televisual appearances in the left-wing Saturday night chat show La Sexta Noche, and her weekly column in Ángeles Barcel’s radio program Hoy por Hoy further bolster public awareness of her work. Her frequent “live chats” with readers of El País foments an intimacy between her and her readers, who engage in a new closer kind of relationship with the personable author that further reinforces her left-wing credentials. As one of the maximum exponents of el boom de la memoria, this use of marketing has been scrutinised, sometimes harshly by the very same critics who disparage the cultural commercialisation of the memory of the Second Republic and Franco dictatorship (Labanyi 119). As Nathan Richardson ironically muses: “One writes a novel of the Spanish Civil War, and one is a Spanish novelist, or at least a remunerated one” (6). Grandes vehemently rebuts such accusation, arguing that she bucks market trends for shorter novels by producing epic novels that stretch from 500 to 900 pages (qtd. in Siguenza). She also asserts that her novels counter the mediatic tendency to depict the 1940s and 1950s as a glamorous epoch in series such as Amar en tiempos revueltos (qtd. in Siguenza). Moreover, she contends that accusations of excessive marketing of cultural memory texts are tantamount to a devaluation of memory itself because they shift the focus to these cultural texts’ economic import rather than focusing on their social and political relevance (qtd. in Fernández Medina 31). Introduction xv Her refutation of venality, however, does not eclipse her extreme sav- viness in negotiating the Spanish literary market to effectuate immense transformations in the public and critical perception of her. Undoubtedly, Grandes’ evolution from the titillating authoress of Las edades de Lul, who posed in her lingerie for photo shoots reporting on the book, to the maximum exponent of historical memory attests to both her ability to prosper in an ever-dwindling market for readers and her attunement to the Spanish literary zeitgeist. The national tributes to her, which range from the naming of a library in Getafe, Madrid, in her honor to the receipt of an honorary doctorate from Universidad Nacional de Educacin a Distancia (UNED) in 2020, not only affirms her place as Spain’s foremost female writer but also testifies to her canniness in dominating a Spanish literary prize terrain that has often been inimical to women writers. Spanish female authors, such as Lucía Etxebarría and Grandes, have frequently been perceived as lacking cultural capital, high-brow intellectual and serious academic engagement, and are more aligned to an inferior commercial capital that gratifies readers through depictions of sentimentality and gratuitous sex. It is now apposite to briefly examine some of these strategies that have allowed Grandes to maintain both her celebrity profile and her reputation as a serious, politically committed writer. Her veneration of male left-wing authors of the past, who were discredited during the Franco period, is evident throughout Los episodios de una guerra interminable, and positions her within a genealogy of male ideological dissent. Grandes explicitly advo- cates a left-wing stance through the citation of poems by Antonio Machado and Luis Cernuda, even taking the title of her novel El corazn helado from one of Machado’s poems. The invocation of Machado is consistent with the boom de la memoria’s exaltation of his work in titles such as Isaac Rosa’s El vano ayer and Benjamín Prado’s Mala gente que camina. However, Grandes’ overarching literary influence is the Canarian writer Benito Pérez Galds: Los episodios de una guerra interminable are a patent homage to Galds’s los episodios nacionales, forty-six novels written between 1872 and 1912 that fictionalise ordinary people’s reactions to historical events. The episodios nacionales’ unfurling of the fictional lives of Madrid’s plebian denizens against a backdrop of tumultuous change inspires Grandes’ own focus on the personal and intimate lives of ordinary people. Both Galds and Grandes committed themselves to writing the fictional micro-histories of highly schismatic times, when national identity was fissured by internal political strife, thus eschewing the focus on “great events and men” to instate a more humane conception of the history of ordinary people. For her, Galds was the first practitioner of micro-history: “Don Benito nos ense a contar desde abajo, nos ense que la vida cotidiana de los pequeos espaoles era un camino para contar la historia pblica de las naciones” (qtd. in Rams 2019). Her references to his inspiration are constant: on the occasion of the author’s birthday, May 10, Grandes always makes a tribute, ranging from an article for the literary magazine Mercurio in May 2018 in an edition titled xvi Introduction “Eterno Galds” to an encomium titled “Viva Galds” in her column in El País in May 2019. The authoress occupied a key position in the Madrid 2020 celebration of the centenary of Galds’ birth, featuring in an interview on his influence on the current generation of writers in the Benito Pérez Galds: La verdad humana exhibition in the Biblioteca Nacional. In her 2020 New Year’s message, she also invoked his sagacity to enjoin her readers to enjoy life’s quotidian pleasures. Thus, Grandes positions herself as a disciple of the master, expressing gratitude for his shaping of her work. Evidently, the authoress has derived from Galds not only a background of social ideas that prioritise the hoi polloi’s efforts to resist the division, subju- gation and terrorism unleashed on them by oppositional forces but also a way of inserting such ideas into novels by intermingling their fictional stories with the real lives of historical figures. It should be noted, however, that Grandes’ idolisation of Galds is not tantamount to an equalisation with him. The press release for Inés y la alegría pictures her sitting at the knees of an aging Galds’ statue in the Retiro park, an image that is suggestive of a small child learning from a wise grandparent, which represents her as Galds’ dutiful pupil, devoted to her spiritual and literary master (Ezkerra). This reverence underlies her determination to transform the fallacious perception of him as a “escritor conservador, reaccionario y injusto,” and to redress the ignomini- ous excoriation of him during the Franco dictatorship when the registration details of his birth were removed from the civil registry in Gran Canaria (qtd. in Rams). In this sense, Galds resembles many of the ostracised characters that proliferate throughout Los episodios de una guerra interminable. Her alignment with Galds connects her to a longstanding literary tradition that revered the Canarian author as an inspiration for the literary representation of the marginal subject. His literary legacy has been uniquely intensified during periods marked by national exclusion because of his work’s exquisite representation of intolerance: his 1877 novel, Gloria, chronicles a young girl’s infatuation with a Jew, Daniel Morten, which incites unmerited condemnation, while the narrow-mindedness of the eponymous protagonist of the 1876 novel, Doa Perfecta, is vindicated by a prelate, a depiction that indicted the Catholic Church. Importantly, both left-wing authors in the Civil War, as well as contemporary writers committed to the recuperation of historical memory, such as Rafael Chirbes and Antonio Muoz Molina, admired Galds immensely. In Grandes’ words:

Es muy curioso cmo la generacin de la Repblica en ningn momento dej de amar y de exaltar la figura de Galds, el ejército popular en las trincheras repartía ediciones populares de los Episodios Nacionales. Alberti edit a Galds en Argentina, Cernuda escribi este poema, Max Aub escribi El laberinto mágico siguiendo el modelo de los Episodios Nacionales. (qtd. in Pacíos)

Their respect for him recuperates an author whose memory has been alternatively idealised and vilified. Galds was memorialised as a national hero Introduction xvii through monuments, memorabilia, curricula and an enormous state funeral in 1885. His defining image as a white-bearded patriarch was quickly imprinted upon the national consciousness. However, he was ostracised by Franco, and in the 1970s, he was regarded by the intellegentsia as a somewhat irrelevant, provincial writer who was not compatible with democratic Spain’s embrace of internationalism. In the postmillennial period, Galds’ ascendancy as a writer and his status as an early public intellectual make for commanding signifiers of Spanish prestige while also paradoxically symbol- ising marginality Therefore, these postmillennial writers espouse both the incontestably prestigious and marginalised Galds. Both Grandes’ own self-created association with Galds, and its critical approval by noted critics, such as Fernando Valls, have associated her with an unimpeachable literary pedigree that has imbued her historical novels with an uncontestable credibility. Indeed, the 2011 Premio Poniatowska de Novela’s award statement eulogised Inés y la alegría as “una obra narrativa, montada en la tradicin galdosiana” (EFE). In a literary landscape where female writers often confront the obstacles of a deeply entrenched sexism and stereotyping (Henseler 24), Grandes’ forging of this connection positions her, not unproblematically, in the canon of venerable male authors, disarming detractors who would dismiss her as a mere “women writer” or “feminist writer.” Although Grandes has professed her admiration for female writers, such as Carmen Martín Gaite and Ana María Matute, she seems to accept and work within rather than contest the centrality of phallocentric literary traditions that have impeded the articulation of the authentic female voice, a discrepancy that has two mutually opposing causal explanations. Firstly, the particular nature of Spanish post-feminism illuminates this caution. Spanish post-feminism equates a diluted form of feminine self- realisation with professional success, physical perfection and complete individualism, with no attendant scrutiny of the collective constraints that hinder an individual woman’s self-fulfillment. It is premised on an antipathy to the idea of “feminism,” held to be a man-hating, passé movement that holds no relevance for contemporary Spanish women (Hooper 72). In an interview with Yemini Pollini, Grandes reveals elements of this attitude, displaying a fundamental misunderstanding of feminism as a movement that encourages self-victimisation (352). In line with Spanish post-feminism, she abhors the contextualisation of women’s writing within a limited historical conjuncture, which qualifies the extent of their achievement.4 In so doing, she manifests an ahistorical belief in the boundlessness of female progress. We can conclude that she regards the historically longstanding male dominance of the Spanish literary tradition as inexorable, and that the classification of female writers only serves to perpetuate their dominance by isolating women writers in an “inferior” literary category. It may also be attributable to a desire not to alienate male readers and to mark a distance from her reputation as a women’s writer, in the earlier xviii Introduction part of her career, a moniker that was constantly rebutted by her. In a 2017 interview, she seems to rejoice at her increased number of male readers. She stated:

Es verdad que, al principio, tenía muchas más lectoras que lectores. Y, sin embargo, escribir sobre la memoria ha acercado mis novelas a los hombres. A las mujeres les gusta la ficcin pero la memoria histrica interesa más a los hombres. (qtd in Arjona)

This is a dichotomous generalisation that both privileges male readers and fails to take into account the resonance her novels’ have for her loyal female readers. Ironically, however, the influence of Galds enriches both Grandes’ writing and stature enormously by helping her to overcome the dilemmas inherent in female authorship and, simultaneously, to obtain awards previously inconceivable for female writers. Upon the concession of the Premio Nacional de Narrativa in 2018, which heretofore had only been awarded to seven women in comparison to sixty-eight men, Grandes stated her fervent desire that this gender disparity would be rectified in the future (qtd. in Aunin). In this regard, her achievements are paving the way for gender parity in Spain’s cultural institutions that previously associated women with low-brow literature in contrast to putatively male and more literary merito- rious writing (qtd. in Aunin). The use of testimony, the featuring of real-life historical figures, ranging from La Pasionaria to the Nazi Hans Lazar, and her collaborations with historians have further cemented her status as a serious writer of historical fiction. Firstly, Grandes’ own academic training as a historian in the Universidad Complutense de Madrid endows her with professional-level knowledge to explore these topics and to establish relationships with witnesses. Her use of the testimonies of survivors, such as Isabel Perales, a child exploited in a convent in Bilbao, and her recourse to Juana Doa’s testimony, Querido Eugenio, in her 2014 novel, Las tres bodas de Manolita, validates her status even further, as she recuperates the voices and traumatic experience quelled through dominant state, academic, cultural or literary discourses. As Olga Bezhanova astutely notes, the use of testimony, prevalent in el boom de la memoria, gives the narrative a veneer of substance that enhances the readers’ engagement with the text (63). These testimonies expose the brutality of dictatorship and the legacy of “la muerte civil,” the social exclusion of the Republicans from civil society in the post-war period, revealing the alienation and isolation of vulnerable subjects who strive to discursive their memory and to obtain recognition for their suffering. The inclusion of testimony is at once a manifestation of Grandes’ redemp- tive ethics that reconverts both reader and writer into witnesses of traumatic experiences. In their study, Testimony: Crises of Witnessing in Literature, Psychoanalysis, and History, literary theorists Shoshana Felman and Dora Laub verse on the importance of witnessing testimonies of trauma. This Introduction xix witnessing, which can be defined as the acknowledgment of the traumatic occurrence, involves empathetic emotional responses or verbal and non-verbal expressions that acknowledge the weight and importance of the stories told. Primo Levi recalls a German guard gloating to prisoners that, in the case of their survival, nobody would believe their stories because of their absolute inconceivability (67). Frequently, this incredulity derives from the gap between the idiosyncratic and institutional idiom of abuse and an articulation of the victims’ plight that appeals to the general public. Testimony preserves trace elements of memories that have been eradicated, proving to be, in the words of Ariel Dorfman, “a very concrete form of reiterating their ethical superiority” (137), and the fictionalisation of this testimony engenders memorability, the ability to engage the public with this memory (Rigney 13). The reappearance of the same historical figures and places in the novels is another feature that strengthens the bond between Grandes and her readers. Antonio Ochoa, the stern adoptive father figure of Los aires difíciles, re-emerges in Los pacientes del doctor García as the aspir- ing boxing trainer of Adrián Ortega Gallardo. Similarly, there are allusions to Pepé el Portugués in Las tres bodas de Manolita and Inés y la alegría. The inclusion of these characters in the texts engenders a sense of community and, importantly, a temporal continuity that facilitates the imaginative entry into the past by fomenting the readers’ connection with characters, who by virtue of their constancy, are personalised for them.

Perpetrator and Gender Memory Grandes’ engagement with perpetrator memory is somewhat paradoxical, as why does such a putatively Republican authoress delve into perpetrator memory? In the transformed mnemonic universe of postmillennial Spain, Nationalist memory gives more cause for shame than pride because it is devoid of the social kudos now generated by Republican victimhood and the cultural memorialisation of same. This surge of Republican memory diminished a previously unassailable Nationalist social and cultural capital that had been on the wane since the transition to democracy. To wit, during the resurgence period, 1999–2007, the proponents of Republican memory gained public acceptance and even kudos, while the descendants of Francoist supporters were subject to a deluge of criticism that articulated the social unacceptability of their memory. The enormous success of the revisionist historian Pío Moa’s 2005 pseudohistorical apologia of Nationalist culpabil- ity, Los mitos de la guerra civil, and the vehemence of the November 20 demonstrations in el Valle de los Caídos manifest the persistence of a pro- Francoist side, which begs the question: how do their families rationalise their forefathers’ suspected implication in atrocities, skulduggery, indiffer- ence or incidental profiting from the Francoist victory? The eruption of the so-called guerra de las esquelas (War of the Obituaries) in the principal Spanish newspapers, El Mundo and El País, in August xx Introduction 2006 reflected the fury of the Nationalist generation of grandchildren who believed that their forebears were being unjustly vilified. The publication of an obituary honoring the Republican aviator Virgilio Leret provoked a storm of counter-obituaries eulogising the Nationalist dead in a politically incendiary language, redolent of Civil War cant: terms such as “the Marxist hordes” and “Soviet Spaniards” reawakened bellic polarisations (Fernández de Mata 89). The latter possibility has a particularly personal resonance for Grandes, who hails from an ideologically polarised family, in which the communist, socialist and fascist members did not speak to each other for the duration of the Civil War (Crespo Buiturn 227). It was in the family itself that Almudena Grandes learned that Nationalist affiliation was not tantamount to callous mistreatment of others and unethical behavior, for her grandfather, a fervent Nationalist, who secured a sinecure in the Ministerio de Regiones Devastadas in the post-war period, resigned from his post in silent protest at the toleration of corruption within the ministry (Crespo Buiturn 229). Thus, Grandes’ successful representation of the filial negotiation of perpetrator memory in El corazn helado and El lector de Julio Verne mirrors her own reconciliation of her abhorrence of Nationalist misdeeds on the macro-social level and a personal respect for her honorable grandfather, a divergence that imbued her with a respect for diversity within the perpetrator category. Grandes’ implication in perpetrator memory can also be ascribed to the universal and national recognition of its relevance in the recuperation of memory. Theorists concur that a one-sided focus on victimhood is detri- mental to the maturation of a pluralistic memory culture. In his seminal article on perpetrator memory, Richard Crownshaw notes that perpetrator memory, defined as the exploration of the memory of people involved in acts of repression and violence, counters the overemphasis on the victim, which conceals the complicated processes of large-scale national involvement in reprehensible crimes. He decries the dismissal of the perpetrator in our confrontation with the past because he believes that it excuses us from understanding the quotidian normative circumstances that convert normal people into perpetrators (78). Jonathan Dunnage concurs, noting that the “public reconstructions of the past according to victim–perpetrator/good– evil absolutes often fail to take account of the rather more blurred dynamics behind oppressive state rule and acts of atrocity” (92). The equation of the memory of victimhood with the recuperation of memory displays a very narrow grasp of what an inclusive memory culture entails. Offe warns that the memory of victimhood will not automatically transform the cultural values, attitudes and behavioral patterns that have been cultivated under the old regime: only the incorporation of both memories of victimhood and perpetration will create a more heterogeneous and inclusive society (197). Memory is concerned not only with suffering but instead with social, ethical and pedagogical issues, such as generating knowledge about the causes of acts of atrocity. Introduction xxi Perpetrator memory is considered to be a nascent, if not underdeveloped, phenomenon in Spain, especially in comparison to other European nations. The prominent writer, Manuel Rivas, cleverly perceives inconsistencies in the right’s supposed Europeanism and their inability to confront their own national past thus:

¿Por qué despierta tanta hostilidad la memoria histrica en la derecha espaola? Esa derecha que gira al centro que no quiere que ningn votante la vuelva a rechazar por miedo, que se pretende homologable con los gobernantes franceses y alemanes, que si asumen la memoria de la resistencia antifascista, ¿por qué hace una excepcin con la dictadura franquista, una de las más crueles y prolongadas de la historia? (214).

The much-vaunted Ley de la Memoria Histrica did not initiate any judicial procedures against perpetrators. In its aftermath, 1,200 families of the Republican disappeared—estimated to be 50,000—entreated Judge Baltasar Garzn to take action to bring Francoist executioners to justice and to facili- tate the carrying out of exhumations (Nolan 2008). The indictment of the Francoist executioners proved problematic as up to forty of them are now dead. Garzn, however, did proceed in October 2008 to request details of executions and victims’ documents from local councils and churches. All these plans were abandoned, however, when the Audiencia Nacional issued an injunction on 7 November 2008 that ordered Garzn to end his investigation. However, cultural perpetrator memory is generally considered to be a burgeoning genre in Spain, and numerous novels thematising Nationalist descendants’ discomforting coming to terms with the past have been published. It is clear that the second generation’s cultural commitment to perpetrator memory is being stimulated by the lack of political action, for it seems that the cultural arena has become one of the few public fora which can reinstate a more equitable version of national memory that would deal trenchantly with perpetrator memory. Among the most prominent are José María Merino’s 2009 novel, La sima; Ignacio Martínez de Pisn’s 2011 novel, El día de maana; and Javier Cercas’ 2016 novel, El monarca de las sombras. Interestingly, two of Grandes’ novels, El corazn helado and El lector de Julio Verne, form part of a growing number of novels, which include Javier Marías’ 1992 novel, Corazn tan blanco; Rafael Chirbes’ 1994 novel, Los disparos del cazador; Bernardo Atxaga’s 2004 novel, El hijo del acordeonista; and Andrés Trapiello’s 2012 novel, Ayer no más, that address the intricacies of male descendants’ confrontation with their progenitors’ malfeasances in the post-war period. These novels crystalise the construction and perpetuation of the inequitable system of social and economic privilege sanctioned by the Nationalist victory, and the sons’ refutation of this dubious paternal amorality. The father–son relationship has historically occupied a superior gendered position as a bond presumed to be xxii Introduction crucial to the maintenance and perpetuation of male dominance, and hence, its fracturing destabilises patriarchal dominance in contemporary Spain. In this corpus, the recurrence of morally unscrupulous and status-hungry fathers deideologises the Spanish Civil War and el primer Franquismo, the early post-war period from 1939 to 1957, reconceiving them, in novels such as El hijo del acordeonista and El corazn helado, as periods when the arbitrary application of the rule of law facilitated the illegal expropriations of Republican properties. In these novels, three sons, Álvaro in El corazn helado, José Pestaa in Ayer no más, and Nino in El lector de Julio Verne, are university professors, while David in El hijo del acordeonista is an archi- tect. Evidently, all these professions represent the sons’ alignment with a rational intellectual model of masculinity that transmutes their progenitors’ ill-begotten wealth into respectable bourgeois capital. Contemporary perpetrator fiction has developed into a subcategory of the memory genre, elevating the psychopathology of perpetration to the status of an issue worthy of consideration, thus facilitating the integration of the psychological and social motivation underlying perpetration into contemporary Spanish fiction. Intrinsic to this approach are the ideas that the perpetrator is a comprehensible human being and that perpetration itself is not merely accreditable to psychopathy but to the complex and mercu- rial combination of agency and volition, supra-individual forces, and the prosaic motives of greed and ambition that subtend the enactment of evil acts. This cultural perpetrator memory has unsettled citizenry complacency and ultimately ameliorated Spain’s democratic culture by forcing individuals to confront their descendants’ implication in acts of violence. It has rup- tured the facile moral framework that has regulated the cultural memory of the Spanish Civil War and post-war period by presenting what Primo Levi termed “the gray zones,” the moral ambiguities of victimhood and perpetration. Nevertheless, Katherine Stafford avers that this genre’s “shifting of the gaze away from the Republican victim to the perpetrator risks leaving the victim once again in the shadows” (6), an idea that substantiates the idea of a Victim Olympics, wherein memory groups compete for scarce commemorative space (Hoffman 27). Certainly, the emergence of the genre raises questions concerning the reconciliation of the critical imperative to understand the motivations of all historical actors, both victims and perpetrators, with the moral imperative not to rationalise or mitigate the perpetrators’ acts or reduce the attention accorded to the victims, a dilemma I will address in my chapter on El lector de Julio Verne (Chapter 4). In my opinion, awareness of the perpetrators’ misdeeds, their inner lives, suffering and trauma culminate not in reduced status for the victims but rather in an enriched understanding of the past that allows readers to understand both victims and perpetrators. Influenced by European and South American models of perpetrator memory, Grandes´ multifaceted engagement with cultural perpetrator memory, which encompasses its relationship with medical ethics, affect, space and gender, means that Spanish perpetrator memory is Introduction xxiii far more developed than previously thought, and deserves to be considered in the European pantheon of cultural perpetrator memory. The simultaneous conveyance of the memory of victimhood and perpetration is sustained by the gendered subject in these novels, female and male characters who demonstrate the primacy of gender and sexuality in the cultural memorialisation of both victimhood and perpetration. Importantly, Grandes does not succumb to the tendency to equate “gender” with “women,” an approach decried by Natalie Zemon Davis, who argues that women’s experience cannot be understood without considering its interaction with masculinity (93). Thus, studies of gender memory, such as Selma Leydesdorff, Luisa Passerini and Paul Thompson’s edited book Gender and Memory, considered both masculine and feminine memories, which are markedly different. As Gayle Greene notes, masculine memories do not invoke the constriction and lack of freedom and agency that feminine memories do. In her words:

Though from one perspective, women might seem to have more incen- tives than men to be nostalgic – deprived of outlets in the present, they live more in the past, which is why they are the keepers of diaries, jour- nals, family records, and photograph albums – from another perspective, women have little to be nostalgic about, for the good old days when the grass was greener and young people knew their place was also the time when women knew their place, and it is not a place to which most women want to return. (295–296)

Greene’s comments indicate that our relation to the past is invariably gendered, determined by mnemonic structures that allot specific tasks to men and women, and memories that can both invalidate and substantiate sex- ist traditions. Memory is not divorced from the variables that define individual personhood, being essential not only to the constitution of identity but to the performance of gender. Grandes reconfigures the negotiation of masculinity as a search for perpetrator memory in El corazn helado and the rationalisation of a paternal perpetrator in El lector de Julio Verne. In these two novels, the memory of past inequities mobilises and legitimises burgeoning transformations in masculinity, spurring change and validating new masculine ways of being. Even more innovatively, Grandes’ recuperation of a distinctly gendered memory recovers the voices of a wide range of gender deviants, working women, an intergenerational family of pros- titutes, homosexuals in 1930s Madrid, a female exilic entrepreneur and female “emotional communities” that had been rendered inaudible by traditional Francoist historiography. These characters attempt to determine their own life course in a society that annulled their personhood, and they gain strength from female “emotional communities” that provide them with solace and reassurance. This representation triggers different perceptions about female compromise by presenting the alternative view that a highly xxiv Introduction restrictive gendered context impelled some women to defy, rather than acquiesce to, normative gender mores.

The Primacy of the Emotions and Agency in Grandes’ Postmillennial Novels Although much praised and feted, Grandes’ postmillennial oeuvre has also been the subject of much criticism. Firstly, her evocation of implicitly depoliticised emotions in adverse historical conjunctures has generated myriad and conflicting critical perspectives. David Becerra Mayor takes issue with the narrative salience of the emotions, which, to his mind, obscures a much- needed focus on the historical economic and social factors that continue to influence the current distribution of power in Spain (239). Citing the example of El corazn helado, Becerra Mayor argues that the ending, in which the protagonist Álvaro Carrin confronts his mother Angélica for her col- lusion in his father’s dubious enrichment, simply culminates in his mother’s invitation to a barbecue that symbolises the maintenance of the status quo. Both the title of the series Episodios de una guerra interminable and Grandes’ avowal that “todavía estamos pagando los platos de la Guerra civil” dispute his contention. Grandes’ derision of the present reality of Spain, which she has decried as “vulgar and aburrida,” makes the past all the more pertinent, as she projects her longing for communal values onto this past, which morphs into an inspiration for the transformation of the present (Grandes, “Memoria y Libertad”). Tellingly, her critique of reces- sionary Spain, the 2015 novel Los besos en el pan, was produced in a hia- tus from the writing of Las tres bodas de Manolita, two novels set in two distinct time periods but united by the predominance of solidarity between beleaguered individuals. Relatedly, she has long bewailed the individualism wrought by the hyperconsumerism so prevalent in Spain, which stands in marked contrast to the values-oriented past (Grandes and Llamazares 77). The post-war past as a source of inspiration concords with the school of memory that views the past as an integral part of the present. According to Barry Schwartz, the negation of the accumulative character of collective memory, that is, its heritage from the past is erroneous, as “it is the past that shapes our understanding of the present, rather than the other way round” (Schwartz 922). His theorisation of the past as a vital component in the elaboration of the present effectively means that the past cannot be discarded and, furthermore, that one’s identity in the present is premised on continuity with, and learning from, this past, a perspective that Grandes advocated in her 2019 address to the RAE: “La memoria tiene que ver con el presente y con el futuro, y es un ingrediente fundamental para labrar la propia identidad, para saber quiénes queremos ser y a quiénes nos queremos parecer” (qtd. in Rams). Grandes’ evocation of the past destabilises present meanings, which converts cultural memory into a profoundly dislocating, disorienting force that can alter the present. As Lisa Renée DiGiovanni so Introduction xxv elegantly expresses it: “Authors like Grandes reshape otherwise dishearten- ing stories of dictatorial repression into compelling narratives of resistance that serve as a source of inspiration and a model for cultural and political renewal” (143). For Becerra Mayor, the authoress’s avowed opposition to “la Historia con Mayuscula,” upon which her portrayal of the history of the emotions is partially based, is fallacious, because it devalues the scientific rigor and objectivity of history, resulting in a bathetic and partial rendering of it (241). He proceeds to inveigh against the simplicity of reducing the entire political history of the PCE in exile in France to two romances: La Pasionaria with Francisco Antn, and Carmen de Pedro with Jess Monzn in Inés y la aleg- ría. He opines that her subjectivisation of historical archetypes, for example, the perpetrator father in El lector de Julio Verne, depoliticises and simplifies complex historical conjunctures, lending itself to a one-dimensional and sympathetic perspective of the perpetrator that elides victim suffering (257). In contradistinction to Becerra Mayor’s criticism, Katarzyna Moszczyńska- Drst considers that the forging of micro-social communities, and personal and romantic bonds creates a complex ideation of collective memory, heretofore held to be the preserve of gubernatorial elites. She comments:

El objetivo de este ejercicio de reescritura de discursos historiográficos consiste también en ofrecernos una denuncia social de la dictadura franquista que clasificaba ciertas vidas como abyectas y culpables, deshu- manizándolas. La narrativa estudiada, al ubicarse en un espacio lleno de contradicciones, silencios y represiones, desplaza los usos hegemnicos y permite remarcar en la concepcin de la memoria como una construc- cin esencialmente ideolgica, compuesta por diversos estratos y hori- zontes axiolgicos superpuestos, residuales y emergentes, en constante lucha por el poder. (29)

According to this critic, love even serves a compensatory function for the protagonists’ yearning for the lost Second Republic, itself the symbol of a chimerical and egalitarian utopia (472). Francisco J. Sánchez posits that love in Grandes’ novels assuaged widespread disillusionment in the wake of the Transition. He draws on Paul Julian Smith’s theory of “the emotional imperative” which proposes that the domestic and familial space of inner emotions compels a confrontation with painful and inassimilable social and political issues: in effect, love can galvanise, or compensate for, social and political action (182). His idea that the unviability of these political projects can be palliated, or even substituted by interpersonal love, is not convincing, however, because it devalues both elements, the enormity of the political project, and the power of love, figured here as a mere salve for political disillusionment. In yet another critical interpretation of the emotional import of Grandes’ work, Ana Corbálan proposes that the readerly sympathy, created by this focus on the emotions, induces the reader to reflect profoundly on xxvi Introduction the post-war years, which makes them more effective in generating empathy than historical monographs (107).5 Certainly, her contention is credible: for example, even at the height of their fame, the books of the famed Nazi hunt- ers, the Klarsfelds, only sold 3000 copies (Fournet 14). In my opinion, Grandes’ exaltation of the emotions reflects the historical actuality of the period, the palpable sense of fear which the Francoist repression generated and the lack of a forum in which to debate important issues, which culminated in the de-politicisation and retreat to the private sphere of the populace (Gracía García and Ruiz Carnicer 60). For the majority, politics and civil society were regarded as diametrically opposed in this epoch, so much so that they completely abstained from political criticism (129). Francisco Sevillano Calero’s detailed exploration of popular opinion during the Francoist period, which reveals that the complaints of the population centered on the constraints imposed by excessive bureaucracy, the inadequacy of the Regime’s social policy and corruption, corroborates the exist- ence of a highly depoliticised populace (60). The importance of the family in a deliberately depoliticised post-war Spain was instrumental in making the articulation of affect in the private sphere one of the only permissible expressions of selfhood in a highly repressive society. Theorists contend that overinvolvement with the family can lead to a lack of civic commitment and to the creation of a simplistic dichotomy between the family versus the state (Burlein 315), when the social sphere is actually constituted by the dynamic interaction between the two. If we extend Burlein’s critique to post-war Spain, we can observe that the post- war recoilment into the private sphere reinforced the idea that involvement in politics would be both foolhardy and injudicious. The repressive legislation of the post-war period initiated power relationships predicated on fear, which brings us to the psychoanalytic sense of trauma as “the wound of the mind – the breach in the mind’s experience of time, self and the world” (Caruth 3). This social trauma comprised both physical and psychological wounding that was inexpressible in the public sphere, a silencing that only compounded the trauma and converted the experience of the emotions into a form of affective resistance. The state impingement into the most interior spaces of life meant that the private emotional space vindicated a division of the self and the social sphere, which meant that the emotions gained a primacy, serving as a powerful counter-hegemonic force, that would not have been conceivable in democracies. They animated and sustained the private worlds where people lived and formed their values, separate from the political world that most regarded with fear and emotional detachment. Thus, the centrality of the emotions implicitly revalues the domestic and private sphere, which was previously held to be secondary, if not inferior, to the public sphere, while also reconstruing memory as an intimate pos- session, replete with moral and ethical significance. While public narratives celebrated a belligerent Nationalism and exclusionary form of citizenship, a private subjectivity was cultivated as a way to process and negotiate fear, Introduction xxvii preserve nonconforming identities, and consolidate a family unity that assumed a disproportionate importance. In these novels, vulnerable subjects’ emotional lives serve as a bulwark against macro-social depredations, permitting them a contemplative and private space of expressivity, affect, and reassurance that was lacking in the public sphere. More significant, the importance of the emotions in these novels causes us to rethink the inordinate emphasis on trauma in the cultural memorialisation of the past. As Antze and Lambek observes: “Increasingly, the only memory worth talking about, worth remembering, is the memory of trauma” (241). In a recent issue of Memory Studies, Sindbæk Andersen and Ortner decry the tendency to dismiss joyous memories, which can coexist with traumatic ones, as banal and unworthy of attention. The omission of joyous memories partially collapses the past–present–future continuum on which memory studies is predicated, because it affirms the idea that the past can only transmit negative lessons to us in the present (Sindbæk Andersen and Ortner 8). In their compelling study on the representation of victimhood, Didier Fassin and Richard Rechtman stress the automatic conjoining of the symptoms of trauma with victimhood to the extent that psychiatrists are now asked to corroborate trauma in the case of victims seeking redress or asylum (17). In a similar vein, Erica Bouris argues that the socially acceptable form of victimhood is predicated on the idea of the victim as a moral beacon, whose exemplarity is premised on their resignation to performing the powerlessness expectant of a victim in contemporary society (32). Thus, the socially credible version of victimhood has become coterminous with an impotent vulnerability and a lack of resilience, firmly divorced from individual strength and forbearance. Moreover, the dominance of this variant of trauma simplifies the composition of cultural trauma that is composed of both negative and positive elements. As a cultural process, trauma’s impact is twofold and contradictory: on the one hand, it fissures the “tissues of a community,” but, in contrast, its memorialisation involves “the reformation of collective identity and the reworking of collective memory” (Eyerman 2). The trauma of the Civil War splintered the social fabric, but its postmillennial memorialisation required novel and nuanced ways of conceptualising community and the relationship of self to society, which culminated in the reimagination of the emotional lives of victims and perpetrators in forms that were palatable to readers in a prosperous, postmillennial Spain that had become the world’s eighth largest economy in 2002. The prominence of memories of contentment in Grandes’ novels necessitates a reconceptualisation of cultural memorialisation, which is determined by not only the influence of the past, as I discussed earlier, but also presentist demands for its reformulation and the necessity of securing interest and acceptance of it in a competitive mnemonic marketplace. Joyous memories attest to the resilience of traumatised subjects, negating the automatic linking of memory studies with grievance and violence (Sindbæk Andersen and Ortner 6). The revalorisation of memories of happiness xxviii Introduction imparts a positive perception of the past, causing individuals to identify and rethink certain elements of the past that are currently lacking in everyday life (7). If we consider the pedagogical import of joyous memories, in conjunction with Grandes’ insistent extolment of the past as a source of the waning Spanish values of solidarity and selflessness, we can imme- diately perceive that memories of contentment cannot be just reduced to manifestations of agency. Instead, they approximate to carefully deliber- ated historical lessons that indict the materialism of the present by exalting the capacity of beleaguered individuals to experience happiness in far more adverse circumstances. Relatedly, the individual agency accorded to her protagonists has proved to be contentious, with David Becerra Mayor accusing her of promoting “una lectura aideolgica del pasado, en el que la nocin de individualidad predomina” (270). Certainly, the protagonists of the novels invariably seem to triumph over adversities by dint of their ingenuity and resourcefulness, a somewhat discordant portrayal of a period that was not, in any way, char- acterised by individualism, due to the dire economic conjuncture, the predominance of National Catholicism and the creation of a militaristic society, that prioritised collective absolutes and homogeneous patterns of behavior. In novels, such as Inés y la alegría, El lector de Julio Verne and Las tres bodas de Manolita, the protagonists’ resilience counters the legitimised and omni- present repression. The prevalence of the bildungsroman genre in these three postmillennial novels indicates that Grandes regards the post-war period as conducive to personal growth. Their protagonists’ upward personal and professional trajectories amount to a backward projection of capability, an unfettered developmental trajectory that is redolent of the oversanguine, even illusory, nature of neoliberalism. In fact, the only personages who do not dispose of any agency, enacted in the forms of spatial, emotional and cultural resistance, is the perpetrator, Antonino, in El lector de Julio Verne. However, as numerous critics of neoliberalism, such as David Harvey and Michael J. Sandel have shown, this ostensible enablement of the individual is fallacious, premised as it is on a disregard of the collective structures that determine individual attainment. In fact, both the novels’ emphasis on the emotions and individual agency seem to correspond to what Lauren Berlant terms “cruel optimism,” which can be defined as the neoliberal distortion of affect that entices individuals to believe in an incredulous “good life,” composed of individual autonomy and a satisfying love life, a delusionary affective panacea that conceals the harsh realities of contemporary everyday living in neoliberal societies (15). Grandes’ adamant disavowal of political correctness renders this disparity, the projection of neoliberal values onto the past, all the more incongruous. In a 2016 interview, she affirms:

Hay un aspecto que me resulta especialmente odioso y que encuentro muy de moda, y es la deslealtad a los hechos histricos, y concreta- mente, la de exportar la correccin política contemporánea a hechos Introduction xxix ocurridos por ejemplo en 1936 o en 1945. Hay autores que deciden escribir una novela con un personaje ideal que no va a estar ni con unos ni con otros, porque es un demcrata convencido, pero le horrorizan los excesos, y se dice: voy a triunfar. Para mí, en el treinta y seis, no había gente así y me parece una forma muy desleal de escribir sobre los hechos histricos. (qtd. in Fernández Medina 29)

This rebuttal is at variance to the extraordinary ability of her characters to preserve their individuality, which does seem to reflect the contemporary neoliberal idealisation of the resilience of the human spirit but is far from contemporaneously accurate. However, prior to condemning this facet, it is necessary to reflect on current philosophical, psychological and medical theories of resilience. Resilience forms the cornerstone of the neoliberal conceptualisation of the subject: Bracke notes that in order to conform to Western neoliberalist discourse, one has to be seen to be performing first and foremost as “resilient” and as a “good subject” (840). She observes that “subjects are encouraged to regulate their conduct according to specific liberal virtues” (842). This variation of resilience actually requires subjects to cease to define themselves as distinctive individuals, enjoining them to transform into changing personalities in response to the designated roles given by society, oscillating between fulfilling expectations, preserving their private vision of themselves and presenting themselves as they want to be perceived by others (847). The inherent flaw in this version of resilience is that it charges all responsibility for change to the individual. A recent editorial in the British Medical Journal proposes a more considered definition: “Resilience is always contextual. It is a complex and dynamic interplay between an individual, the individual’s environment and sociocultural factors” (Balme et al. 4710). I postulate that the resilience of Grandes’ characters conforms to this more discerning variant because the characters’ ability to withstand is both facilitated but also truncated: for example, Manolita’s fortitude enables her to survive, but the cultural resistance of her sister, Isabel Perales, and her father in carceral set- tings do not allow them to escape death. Neither does the resilience of las rubias in El lector de Julio Verne result in an improvement in their economic or social stature. In Grandes’ novels, resilience does not obviate vulnerability or susceptibility to abuse, and its results are partially dictated by the environment, a representation that negates the critical dismissal of Grandes as a thoughtless historical chronicler. Second, it is erroneous to dismiss the restoration of agency as merely a grafting of neoliberal values onto the past because such an argument, unwittingly, reproduces the disempowerment of the victim as an individual, unable or even unentitled, to the dignity inherent in the capacity for autonomous action and the articulation of affect. In order to properly understand agency, we need to revise and dispel prevalent assumptions concerning both memory and victimhood. The capacitation of the individual subject, in these xxx Introduction novels, is not reducible to an annulment of their victimhood or hardship but is rather a resignification of the victim to the more agentic state of a vulnerable subject, who is capable of resisting and even flourishing in inimical historical conjunctures. This perceptual shift necessitates a consideration of the conceptual underpinnings of victimhood: vulnerability, flourishing and interdependence, which, in broader terms, will challenge our view of victimhood in culture and society. Etymologically, vulnerability is derived from the Latin vulnerābilis, from vulnus – “a wound.” According to the Oxford Dictionary, vulnerability signifies exposure to the possibility of being harmed, either physically or emotionally, and being in need of special protection, or at risk of abuse or neglect. Vulnerability is an effect of the phenomenological, socially struc- tured condition of “permeability” (Sabsay 286) which can be defined as the susceptibility to social rejection (287). Vulnerable subjects are frequently objectified, depriving them of their potential to self-determine and articulate their grievances (Nussbaum, “Frontiers of Justice” 214). As a consequence of this objectification, the vulnerable subject is perceived to lack power and is thought to be incapable of self-sufficiency or exercising agency. In short, the vulnerable subject is seen as weak and passive, conceptually antithetical to qualities such as capability, strength, autonomy, activity, well-being and other desirable conditions (Cunniff Gilson 82). Vulnerability causes interdependence, which increases the subject’s susceptibility to abuse, a vicious cycle that can only be reversed by the strengthening of the individual subject to a supra-individual level which pre-empts reliance on the other (85). Sara Hagalin’s study of vulnerability in American culture challenges the implications of this obligatory moral and physical dependence on the other, by classifying dependence as extraneous to the debate. She proposes the idea of “resistant vulnerability,” the idea that “suffering bodies do not need our protection and assistance” (4). Hagalin’s reconstrual not only discounts the very real dependence, whether desirable or not, that vulnerability implies for the subject, but also elides the potentiality of individual vulnerability to embed fragile subjects in protective communities. In that regard, leading philosophers’ and Hispanists’ perspectives enhance our understanding of the relationship between vulnerability and dependence. Judith Butler suggests that, in accepted thought, “vulnerability is the opposite of resistance” which “implies the need for protection” and strengthens “paternalistic forms of power” (“Rethinking Vulnerability” 10). The body itself, however, is simultaneously a conduit of social debilitation and the human capacity for resistance. In her words: “the body implies mortality, vulnerability, agency: the skin and flesh expose us to the gaze of others, but also to touch, and to violence, and bodies put us at risk of becoming the agency and instrument of all these as well” (“Precarious Life” 249). “Bodily life” for Butler thus refers to an ambiva- lent site that oscillates between agency and dependency, which purports to refute the traditional liberal thesis of autonomous individuality. The abuse Introduction xxxi of the body upends this ambivalence, forcing the person into an infantile and solitary regression that derives from what Butler terms the “primary vulnerability,” the inchoate defencelessness that rendered the infant body wholly dependent on parental ministrations and susceptible to abuse (“Precarious Life” 77). This primary vulnerability persists in modified forms throughout our lives, the sense of infantile dependency remaining latent or surging, and consequently, the subject is never certain of corporeal proprietorship, which can be revoked by social condemnation, unfavorable legislation or violence. However, the primary vulnerability is not wholly negative if we con- ceive, as Butler suggests, of the dyad of vulnerability and dependency as mutually constitutive, and hence as only threatened, but never undone, by acts of violence. Butler argues that when the wielder of power in a relationship, either personal or political, projects vulnerability and impo- tence onto the other, the very act of determining that subservience or weakness reveals the stronger individual’s insecurities (57). This would imply a co-ownership of vulnerability in the relationship or even point towards the reversal of the power dynamic. According to the philosopher, the panacea to vulnerability resides in an advocacy of the concept of a shared and communal self, which fosters a reciprocity that is attentive to the needs of others (59). Interdependence, for her, is an invaluable social resource that enables the individual to draw on communal assets of good- will and help that enrich both the community and individual. As Butler states, “to foreclose that vulnerability, to banish it, to make ourselves secure at the expense of every other human consideration is to eradicate one of the most important resources from which we must take our bear- ings and find our way” (227). For Alasdair MacIntyre, vulnerability and dependence are inescapable, and hence we oscillate between different communities of “giving and receiving” throughout our lives (122). He avers that the paucity of references to this reciprocity overlooks the fact that vulnerability is not a condition of inferiority but instead inherent to the human condition at different stages in the life span, be it childhood, old age, or alternatively from the deprivation of resources that bolster a life of dignity, such as knowledge or emotional support (66). A more nuanced perspective on dependence as a prerequisite of individual survival has been propounded by Jo Labanyi, Pura Fernández and Luisa Elena Delgado, who stress the importance of “emotional communities” in Spanish culture, people bound by emotional closeness rather than kinship. They hypostasise the importance of re-evaluating social and historical actors’ need for emotional warmth, and in so doing, they expose the reductionism of viewing historical actors as calculated and self-interested, acting solely in function of their material needs. We can glean from this overview that vulnerability and dependence are an integral part of the human condition, and that victimhood is not tantamount to inferiority and neither does it preclude the experience of a personally enriching communality or flourishing, as I will later examine. xxxii Introduction Communal relations, however, do not necessarily function optimally for the vulnerable subject. Alasdair MacIntyre issues a salutary warning regarding the transformative power of communal dependence, acknowledg- ing that these structures of giving and receiving can also metamorphose into structures of inequitable power distribution, of domination and the withdrawal of resources (28). He states that self-interest may cause others to perpetuate dependence, which exemplifies a form of negative dependence and communality (73). Significantly, Butler herself recognises that human dependency can lead to vulnerability in unsupportive situations or when human beings are subject to conditions of precarity or threat (“Rethinking Vulnerability” 19). Caveats aside, a sense of communal belonging and control over one’s individual destiny is undoubtedly crucial to the individual flourishing process (Nussbaum, “Frontiers of Justice” 129), the transition from socially normative judgments to making independent judgments about what is beneficial for us. Flourishing is synonymous with a life of eudaimonia, defined as the Aristotelian belief, outlined in the Nicomachean Ethics, to live a life of dignity. Etymologically, it derives from the Greek word daimon, which means “an inner spirit or divine spark.” Aristotle held that all human beings should live a life of eudaimonia, which implied becoming harmonious (eu) with your inner daimon. To conflate with your inner daimon enables the individual to accede to their highest potential self, and to realise one’s opti- mum potential as a human being. It involves the following core capabilities: life; bodily health and bodily integrity; senses, imagination, and thought; emotions; practical reason; the freedom to affiliate with others; the ability to live in relation to other non-human beings (animals, plants, the environment); play; and control over one’s own environment. Flourishing cannot be reduced to the attainment of happiness or the optimisation of satisfac- tion, but is rather “a striving to achieve a life that included all the activities to which, on reflection, they [a person] decided to attach intrinsic value” (Nussbaum, “Frontiers of Justice” 119–120). In this sense, the distinction between hedonic and eudaimonic well-being is instructive: the former, which can be considered the affective cornerstone of neoliberalism, cen- tres on the maximization of pleasure and pain-avoidance while the latter focuses on self-realisation and the obtainment of psychological well-being in order to live a meaningful life (Ryan and Deci 145). Thus, rather than con- forming to the neoliberal construction of a satisfactory life, we can perceive that Grandes, in fact, contradicts it by espousing eudaimonic well being, synonymous with flourishing, which is an infinitely more complex route to personal happiness. Given that self-determined individual identities develop in the context of interpersonal bonds of affection and interdependency, any account of flourishing must include the often-limiting constraints imposed by social realities (Cunniff Gilson 74). Thus, vulnerability and flourishing are inextricably linked and connected with social variables that may propitiate, but Introduction xxxiii also hinder, both states. Moreover, both sets of virtues (both independent rational agency and acknowledged dependence) are required to actualise human potentialities, to pursue “invulnerability,” a term that refers to the ideal of a sense of control and impenetrability (76). This review of vulnerability, dependence, community and flourishing causes us to dispense with the powerless victim/powerful aggressor dichotomy to reconceive Republican victims as vulnerable subjects who aim to flourish individually, and with the help of “emotional communities,” people bound by emotional closeness rather than kinship (Labanyi et al.). Victimhood is thus composed of acknowledged and unashamed dependence and independent rational agency, which can enable flourishing that can itself be stymied by social realities. Thus, victims in Grandes’ novels are vulnerable individuals who strive to obtain some of the prerequisites of eudaimonia, be it the sensual musical relief of the cloistered child, Isabel Perales in Las Tres Bodas de Manolita, the escape to the bucolic cortijo in El lector de Julio Verne, or the female exile’s founding of a restaurant, thereby establishing an unusual degree of control over a foreign environment in Inés y la alegría. Whether it be the solidarity of the male prisoners’ female family members in Las tres bodas de Manolita or the female exiles’ restaurant co-operative in Inés y la alegría, their individual efforts to flourish are inherently communitarian. These characters employ practical coping strategies and seek solace in emotional warmth, thereby mitigating the effects of collective trauma. Such a representation implicitly repudiates the reduction- ist logic that conflict can only culminate in trauma, positing instead eudaimonia and flourishing as individual and communitarian reactions to it, a redefinition that casts the Spanish memory boom´s depiction of victimhood, and the condition more broadly defined, in a different light. In the ensuing chapters, I will examine gender and perpetrator memories, as well as the reconceived memory of victimhood, through a wide array of theoretical approaches that verse on medical ethics, motherhood, exile psychology, and perpetrator trauma. In Chapter 1, “Motherhood, Clothing and Class in Los aires difíciles,” the interconnection between motherhood and class is explored in all its full complexity, focusing on the transmission and assimilation of class dictates and their subsequent shaping of the daughter’s life. The intricacies of the intersection of class, gender, memory and a radically transformed socio-cultural environment are all distilled in the clothing motif, which functions to manifest the evolution of class and social status during the period between 1936 and 1980. It is also a cipher for the inextricability of class norms imparted via the mother–daughter relationship. Departing from an interdisciplinary theoretical basis of fashion studies, sociology and contemporary Spanish history, Chapter 1 will consider the maternal conveyance of class and the daughterly negotiation of it. I postulate that Sara’s affiliation to the inflexible conceptualisation of class endorsed by her adoptive mother, Doa Sara, ultimately hinders, and annuls, her xxxiv Introduction capacity to achieve her maximum potential during Spain’s apertura, when class divisions subsided due to Spain’s unprecedented prosperity. Thus, the adoptive mother is firmly positioned in this narrative as the wielder, not so much of inflexible gender expectations, but rather of mercantile class norms that ultimately prevent Sara from availing of increased social mobility from the 1960s onwards. This chapter is divided into two parts: an initial theoretical scrutiny of the relationship between class, clothing and motherhood, whereas the second part will examine their interrelated functions in the novel in question. The protagonist’s journey illustrates the inability to flourish due to classism and the consequences of ideological polarisations, and also demonstrates that perpetration is an affective and intergenerational phenomenon. In Chapter 2, “Memory, Gender and the Changing Spanish Family in El corazn helado,” I reconstrue the protagonist Álvaro’s affiliation with his grandmother’s memory, which, thus far, has been interpreted as a literary representation of the generation of grandchildren’s mobilisation to dignify their grandparents’ memory (de Urioste 74). I reread Álvaro’s recuperation of his grandmother’s memory as a process of historically gendered self-discovery that reaffirms the contemporary configuration of masculinity, repudiates patriarchal values, and showcases the emergence of the new man and neoliberal feminism. Based on a gender studies theoretical framework, my analysis proposes that Álvaro’s reverence for his grandmother’s memory is the outcome of a gendered process of identity work, spurred by a floundering father–son relationship and a subsequent yearning for a gender precedent that resonates with his own version of “feminist masculinity,” which he finds in the memory of his grandmother’s performance of female masculinity. Interwoven in my analysis is an examination of a highly affective victim–perpetrator relationship, in effect the marriage of Julio Carrin and Angélica Fernández, which causes us to rethink the victim–perpetrator relationship in terms of intimacy and self-interest. This chapter illustrates the gendered and affective dimensions of perpetration. In Chapter 3, “The Feminised Quest Romance in Inés y la alegría,” I classify both Inés’ culinary evolution and La Pasionaria’s political and amorous trajectories as what Dana Heller terms the “feminised quest romance,” a spatial and developmental trajectory in which the female protagonist acquires self-knowledge. Both women undertake involuntary exilic journeys that effect both positive and negative transformations in their professional and amorous lives, garnering wisdom and experience, but also becoming embittered, as is the case with La Pasionaria. In this chapter, I aver that culinary acts of consumption and preparation enable the consolidation, but also the transcending of schismatic class, gender and ideological barriers through the dual and often contradictory functions of the kitchen spaces in which the protagonist develops. I critically examine the treatment of cooking, which reveals the densely layered and deeply entrenched role it plays in the building of intersectional identities related to nation, exile, nostalgia and Introduction xxxv gender. This analysis seeks to analyse the gendered implications of marginal figures´ attempts to flourish, to obtain eudaimonia, through domesticity and entrepreneurship in exile. In Chapter 4, “Perpetration-Induced Traumatic Stress and the Gendered Reading Trope in El lector de Julio Verne,” I examine the issues of perpetrator suffering and the multifaceted aspects of the child’s role in the perpetrator moral universe, which range from an affected individual to an active agent, thus disputing the view of the child as a victim or bystander in post-conflict situations. Based on a mélange of literary reception theory, and Spanish literary and pedagogical history, I explore the manifold and mul- tileveled connections between masculinity, paternity, and the many kinds of popular texts that are incorporated as intertexts in the novel, and their significance in creating a gendered understanding of the perpetrator figure. In Chapter 5, “Internal Exile and Resistance in Las tres bodas de Manolita,” I analyse the ways in which imaginative spaces of resistance, the creation of a queer urban utopia, emotional communities, and the triad of female economic independence, bodily decline and sexuality function to reimagine and reconfigure this internal exile, defined as exclusion within one’s own community and homeland (Tabori 5). These marginal characters struggle to flourish, adopting a panoply of cultural, spatial and economic strategies that are inherently communitarian, and in so doing, they reassert their individual agency, instating their claims to a selfhood denied to them by an exclusionary and gendered construction of nationhood. I will also analyse the figure of the perpetrator, Roberto Conesa, in order to examine the struggle between the institutional sanctioning of perpetration and the individual conscience. In Chapter 6, “Perpetration and the Stigma of Illness in Los pacientes del doctor García,” I argue that the perpetrator voice and status is undermined in multiple ways, first through a progressive failure to adhere to medical ethics, which underscores Dr. García Medina’s narrative dubitability and inspires readerly distrust. I then examine the relationship between multidirectional memory, ecocriticism and perpetrator memory in the portrayal of Adrián Gallardo Ortega’s participation in the killing of Jews in the Klooga concentration camp in Estonia, with the express aim of ascertaining the causation of perpetration and the authenticity of the ensuing perpetrator trauma. Departing from Erving Goffman’s conceptualisation of “stigma,” I finally examine the stigma of illness and the representation of the perpetrator body through the lens of economic, social and corporeal capital.

Notes 1 This second generation believes that it is their duty is to rectify a biased memory narrative in order that their children will inherit a democratic memory culture. In an interview, Carlos Iglesias, the director of Ispanski, a film that centers on the Republican children who were sent to Russia in the post-war period, affirms that his filmmaking is propelled by a conviction that his children should be aware xxxvi Introduction of the existences of these injustices that form a hidden, but significant, part of Spanish history; he, in fact, declares that his greatest reward is watching the reactions of his teenage children as they watch his films (qtd. in Villacastín). 2 It should be noted that the authenticity of memory is frequently questioned. Gil Eyal notes that whenever the term “memory” is mentioned, “it elicits doubts, which, to be precise, touch not only on its quantity, but also more generally on its authenticity, validity and significance” (8). These, he suggests, are the wrong criteria with which to judge memory that cannot be expected to render an accurate reflection of the past. It should, he argues, be judged on its more practical merits, more specifically on “what it should do for the collective or individual subject” (6). 3 These cultural artifacts’ recognition of the other combats a lack of empathy for the repressed, as their recognition of marginal memories indirectly leads to what Kaja Silverman terms “heteropathic memory,” which facilitates the incorporation of these alternative memories of the maligned and repressed Other into the individual psyche. Silverman emphasises that individuals do not internalise this form of counter-memory, but instead venture outside the parameters of their conventional memory to identify themselves, through an imaginative reconstruc- tion, with the other person. Based on a newly found alterity, counter-memory forges an empathy with the other, while still maintaining the separate identity of the empathiser. This heteropathic memory may also lead to a social acknowledgment of past wrongdoings, because reading about the experiences of the repressed creates a relationship with alterity, thereby diminishing the individual’s attachment to national memory narratives (87). 4 For example, when discussing Ana María Matute, she complains as follows: “Con Matute pasa por ejemplo, que es una grandísima escritora y tal, pero siempre está la necesidad de aadir la coletilla de ‘siendo en aquella época,’ lo que una mujer pudo escribir en aquella época” (Pollini 352). It is strange that Grandes interprets this as a diminishment of Matute’s stature because it could very well reflect a genuine desire on the part of the critics to stress the merit of her achievements, given the repression of women during the Francoist era. 5 The consumers of cultural production concerning this period can be said to experience what Marianne Hirsch terms “affiliative postmemory” (“Generation of Postmemory” 112), in effect, a subscription to the tenets of the postmemory and an empathy with its proponents, while not actively being engaged in its recovery. 1 Motherhood, Clothing and Class in Los aires difíciles

Introduction Los aires difíciles is in Almudena Grandes’ own words her “novela de bisa- gra,” the novel that adeptly combines gender and historical memory, fore- grounding her distancing from gender issues to what was to become the overarching motif of Grandes’ post-2004 oeuvre, historical memory (qtd. in Ortiz). It is a novel that symbolises her liminal status on the threshold of historical memory, but not as yet completely distanced from the gender issues that had dominated her previous novels. Defined by Grandes as “un ejemplo de las víctimas de la guerra civil de las que no se habla nunca” (qtd. in Anabitarte), the protagonist Sara’s life trajectory is determined by the strange circumstances surrounding her adoption by an affluent Francoist family. Her biological father, Arcadio Gmez Gmez, an ardent Republican, is released from jail in the post-war period following the intercession of Doa Sara, the employer of Sebastiana, Sara’s mother. This adoption evokes “the stolen babies” scandal in Spain, whereby 300,000 babies were taken from their parents and readopted in Nationalist families (Barreira and Maldonado). A network of nuns and doctors at certain hospitals took babies from poor families or single mothers and placed them with wealthy childless couples, both in Spain and abroad. Although the adoption is consensual in this case, it is motivated by poverty, which indicates how reproduction and parenting were balefully affected by the persisting ideological divisions of the post-war period. The adopted daughter unsuccessfully seeks to rationalise the contradictory forces of both adoptive and biological family ties and her desire to maintain a high social status with knowledge of the murky origins of her adoption and her tenuous status within her adoptive family. The novel also demonstrates how the dynamics of victimhood and perpetration penetrate the family, perpetuating intergenerational victimhood. In this novel, Doa Sara’s benefaction is not wholly magnanimous, for she later uses it as leverage to coerce Sebastiana into giving up her newly born child, who is also named Sara. As a result of this quasi-agreement, Sara is socialised in an upper-class household, but at the age of sixteen is returned to her parents by the callous Doa Sara, who, in Sara’s own words, was 2 Motherhood, Clothing and Class tired of playing “mamás y papas.” Sara’s resentment at this abrupt sever- ance from her former life leaves her with an intense hatred of Doa Sara and a desire for both the recuperation of her former status and vengeance for her adoptive mother's abandonment of her. Thus, directly and indirectly, according to Alicia Rueda Acedo, “la Guerra Civil está siempre presente en la vida de Sara” (249). The novel constitutes a homage to the unsung, indi- rect victims of the Civil War and the demoralised ideologues of the Second Republic, such as Sara’s father Arcadio, who had to endure being on the side of the “vencidos” during the difficult period of the post-war years, when those who had sided with the Second Republic were treated as second-class citizens. It also reflects a subtle type of perpetration that revolves around not only infliction of violence but rather estrangement from the biological family and class slights. The adoption normalises the repression of Republican family bonds, which is inextricable from the obtainment of high social class. While undoubtedly an accomplished fictionalisation of the long-term consequences of the Civil War, I believe that this text also represents an expansion of Grandes’ exploration of the mother–daughter conflict to the critically neglected relationship between motherhood and class. Unlike her earlier novels, such as Malena es un nombre de tango and Atlas de geo- grafía humana, in which Grandes critiqued the maternal indoctrination of retrograde sexual mores, Los aires difíciles portrays the no less powerful consequences for the relationship of a maternal class transmission that serves to perpetuate the economic disempowerment of the defeated of the Spanish Civil War. In this novel, class norms inculcated by the adoptive mother initiate the daughter into the economic realm, its subsections of capital acquisition and symbolic value, along with class distinction, to the detriment of the protagonist’s self-esteem and relationship with her biological parents. Grandes’ fashioning of an adoptive mother figure as the transmitter of baneful class norms hypostasises the artificiality of the mother’s role in reproducing intractable class edicts. The adoptive mother ensures the transgenerational transmission of vulnerability and impedes her adopted daughter’s flourishing. In other words, the reproduction of class is demonstrated to be a social construct associated with the institution of motherhood and not a natural outgrowth of the mother–daughter relationship. In Los aires difíciles, the interconnection between motherhood and class is explored in all its full complexity, focusing on the transmission and assimilation of class dictums, and their subsequent shaping of the daughter’s life. The intricacies of the intersection of class, gender, memory and a radically transformed sociocultural environment are all distilled in the clothing motif, which functions to manifest the evolution of class and social status during the period between 1936 and 1980. It is also a cipher for the inextricability of class norms imparted via the mother–daughter relationship. Departing from an interdisciplinary theoretical basis of fashion studies, sociology and contemporary Spanish history, this chapter will consider the Motherhood, Clothing and Class 3 maternal conveyance of class and the daughterly negotiation of it. I postulate that Sara’s affiliation to the inflexible conceptualisation of class endorsed by her adoptive mother, Doa Sara, ultimately hinders (and annuls) her capacity to achieve her maximum potential during Spain’s apertura when class divisions subsided due to Spain’s unprecedented prosperity. Thus, the adoptive mother is firmly positioned in this narrative as the wielder, not so much of inflexible gender expectations but rather of mercantile class norms that ultimately prevent Sara from flourishing and availing of increased social mobility from the 1960s onwards. This chapter is divided into two parts: an initial theoretical scrutiny of the relationship between class, clothing and motherhood, whereas the second part will examine their interrelated functions in the novel in question.

Class, Clothing and Motherhood Class, as defined by Rosemary Hennessy, is “a cultural system or set of status distinctions that refers to the distribution of resources that function as the markers of privilege” (58). In her words: “When class appears as the overlooked member of the race, class, and gender trinity, or when it appears as an obvious indicator of a person’s social status, class is often under-conceptualised” (55). She even goes as far as to categorise it as “the lost continent” of feminist scholarship. Presently, it constitutes a somewhat passé topic in scholarship, having been rendered obsolete by its perceived obviousness, and its incapacity to maintain its stature as a rigorous theoretical category in the face of the critical exaltation of concepts such as race and gender. Simon Duncan concurs, observing that “class itself is a dead classification from the past, given a sort of shadow life by the individual- ised processes through which people construct their lives” (62). Certainly, a cursory examination of current scholarship on the representation of motherhood in contemporary Spanish film and literature, and even gender studies itself, confirms that class is not a common analytical category, and this lacuna is precisely the reason why I frequently cite Anglo-American studies on gender and class.1 Paradigmatic of this critical neglect is the current state of Grandes’ scholarship, which has been predominantly analysed with refer- ence to memory, gender, eroticism and the family, but with a conspicuous lack of attention to class. In Los aires difíciles, the mother is vital to the reproduction of class and gender norms. For Pierre Bourdieu, class itself is patrilineal, preordained by the father’s occupation, but its transmission and reproduction occur in the domestic sphere, the mother being entrusted by both state and society with the task of inculcating in the child what Bourdieu terms the “habitus,” which can be defined as follows: “The habitus is precisely this immanent law, […] laid down in each agent by his earliest upbringing, which is a precondition not only for the co-ordination of practices but also for practices of co-ordination” (“Distinction: A Cultural Critique” 81). The habitus 4 Motherhood, Clothing and Class coheres around a set of tastes, preferences and level of refinement that estab- lishes one’s social class. The mother is the principal regulator of class in a patriarchal society, and she seeks to produce docile, submissive daughters who adhere to class and gender norms (Chodorow, “Reproduction of Mothering” 70). The daughter’s socialisation has two apparently paradoxical but actually confluent objectives: homogenisation with the same members of her class and differentiation from the members of other classes. Expectations concerning the behavior and life patterns of a group of people of the same class are unvarying. The process of differentiation, which ensures that each social class receives a distinct socialisation, based on the social expectations of their class, complements the homogenisation process (Poal Marcet 76). One of the main criteria on which the mother will be judged is on her daughter’s display of class. A perfect daughter will allay any doubts about the mother’s style of mothering, as the daughter validates her mother in a patriarchal society that attempts to quantify good mothering by daughterly adherence to normative gender expectations. The daughter’s class divergence from the prescribed path causes her mother to be judged as an irredeemably bad mother, who has committed some fatal error in the upbringing of her child (Caplan 72). Bourdieu inadvertently confers the mother figure with even more importance in this process by stressing that an individual’s social positionality cannot be ameliorated in later life as subtle class markers that become so ingrained as to be performed unconsciously, betray one’s origins and impede inclusion in the higher echelons of society (“Distinction: A Cultural Critique” 105). The corollary to Bourdieu’s theory is that the mother deter- mines not only the expectations of the child but his/her objective chances of realising them. Importantly, even if the adult child manages to rise into a higher class, their success may be tempered by resentment at the mother’s transmission of lower-class norms, which they consider, in an adult perspective, to be the most significant obstacle to their level of acceptability in the class to which they have ascended.2 The mother is not only concerned with the reproduction of class dictums, however, but also with the visualisation of the family’s class status. In a patriarchal society, where women appear as objects, “whose function is to contribute to the perpetuation or expansion of the symbolic capital held by men,” they will be judged on their ability to sustain, perpetuate or even enhance the family’s social standing (Bourdieu 99). The mother’s persona and body materialise the family’s class in the public and domestic spheres and, accordingly, she is entrusted with the provision and maintenance of the visceral social markers of their status, such as clothing and furniture. In the words of Bourdieu: “It is women who see to and look after everyday life, the house and its internal decoration, the element of gratuitousness and purposefulness without a purpose which always finds a place there” (99). Thorstein Veblen expresses it more succinctly: “women’s dress puts in evi- dence her household’s ability to pay” (180). Motherhood, Clothing and Class 5 In repressive, highly segregated societies, fashion accrues particular importance for women who are confined to the domestic sphere and denied the possibility of social recognition through professional advancement (Simmel 554). Georg Simmel cites the historical example of women in medieval Germany, who were restricted to the domestic sphere and, consequently, invented wildly extravagant attire to compensate for their lack of participation. He goes on to contrast this with women occupying preeminent roles in the arts, commerce and the humanities in Renaissance Italy who did not prioritise dress. Such a disjunction is premised on unequal power relations, as women in a patriarchal society interiorise a disinclination towards gain- ing power, naturalised as an exclusively male preserve (Janeway 61). Thus, women arrive at a purportedly mutually beneficial agreement with men by which they abdicate public power for a precarious type of private power: an arrangement that allows both men and women to “rule” in their respective spheres. Subtly concretising her concession to patriarchy, while indexing her family’s social class, dress manifests the status of the “kingdom” a woman rules (Janeway 56). Women in Francoist Spain were subjected to a regressive gender ideology that confined women to the domestic sphere and exalted the docile and asexual homemaker and mother, “el ángel del hogar.” Working women were required to possess “una licencia marital,” which proved that they had obtained their husbands’ permission to work. Laws such as the 1938 Fuero del Trabajo, which stated its main objective as being “to liberate the married woman from the factory,” cemented women’s exclusion from the public sphere. Such a historical conjuncture, which channeled the gamut of women’s potentialities into domesticity and maternity, made fashion Spanish women’s primary concern. In the scantly industrialised society of post-war Spain, fashion fulfills the classic function of emphasising a mon- eyed unproductivity as there was “a large class of people wealthy enough to be above the imputation of any necessity for manual labour, and at the same time, large enough to form a self-sufficient, isolated social body who determined their own social rules of conduct” (Veblen 17). Such a distribution of wealth culminates in a relatively homogeneous style, and indeed, Spanish post-war high-class taste was somewhat predictable: the upper bourgeoisie had a predilection for “cinturas de avispa, vuelos en las faldas y zapatos de tacn,” while the aristocracy inclined towards the designs of the Basque- born designer Cristbal Balenciaga, who had emerged as their designer of choice in the early 1930s (Laver 351). In her essay on fashion in 1940s Spain, Kathleen Vernon explains the function of dress as follows:

Clothing never lost its link to traditional femininity, its role in situating women as pleasing ornament and domestic decoration. This view of fashion effectively reinforced conventional divisions of labour. Clothing reigned at the core of women’s work and women’s place, a safe space of distraction and self-cultivation. (278) 6 Motherhood, Clothing and Class Although fashion was utilised to impose a monolithic demure feminine identity and to consolidate the regime’s conservative prototype of Spanish womanhood, it, nevertheless, constituted one of the few domains in which oppressed women could express their individuality, be it by the idiosyncratic tailoring of a certain style to their own tastes, or the incitement of admiration for their beauty and elegance. High-class doyennes’ aesthetic perfec- tionism positioned them as the arbiters of taste within their social circles. For example, in her memoirs, politician Carmen Díez de Rivera recalled her aristocratic mother’s hauteur, friendship with Cristbal Balenciaga, obsession with her own appearance and complete disinterest in her mothering role (Romero 59). Post-war clothing not only articulated class distinctions but also evoked the memory of how elite privileges were jeopardised throughout the preced- ing decade, as the clamor for workers’ rights gained momentum during the Second Republic and Civil War. The sewing of clothing in the post-war period, a seemingly innocuous activity, repudiated the supposed amoral values espoused by the Second Republic from 1931 to1936. In the words of Paula A. Cruz Fernández:

Sewing knowledge, and thus the values that society expected of women, was passed from mothers to daughters in the household in the post- war period. As part of “sus labores,” women had to know the basics of sewing to allow them to dress the house and the family members, reembroidering the image of the Spanish family that had supposedly been diverted by the subversion of gender rules during the Second Republic. (275)

In her autobiography, the author Esther Tusquets, a member of the Barcelonese upper bourgeoisie, recalls her aunt Blanca’s reprimanding of the servants for wearing inappropriate clothes that did not reflect their humble station in life (Tusquets 77). Furthermore, she perspicaciously observed the overtones of vengeance that subtended the post-war relationship between masters and servants. She writes:

No importaba que dispusieran de dinero para comprarla: una criada es una criada, y no dejaba de sorprenderme la fealdad de las bufandas y jerséis que se tejían para los pobres, y es que ser pobre no consistía nicamente en no tener dinero, ser pobre suponía pertenecer a una condicin distinta, y a una persona de esta condicin no se le ocurriría jamás entrar en un buen restaurante, o en un teatro, o coger un taxi si no era de extrema necesidad, aunque dispusiera de dinero para hacerlo. Convencidas en el fondo muchas seoras de que la gente humilde no tenía la misma sensibilidad: su hambre era otra hambre, su frío era otro frío, ni siquiera el dolor por la muerte de un hijo era equiparable. A los vencedores de la guerra, no les había enseado en este sentido Motherhood, Clothing and Class 7 apenas nada: que fueran en tantos casos las criadas, los chferes o las manicuras quienes habían hecho las denuncias y llevado a sus seores ante el pelotn les parecía slo una prueba más de la inaudita maldad e ingratitud de aquella gente y de que no debes fiarte de nadie. (132)

Thus, the aesthetic terrain in the post-war period was defined by its exclu- sivity, and both the acquisition and enjoyment of elegance and beauty were upper-class pursuits. In short, an unofficial but binding sumptuary law was enforced. Conceived as the instigators of social strife during the Civil War, the lack of aesthetic appeal of the poor’s apparel confirmed their moral base- ness; in effect, it was the exteriorisation of their inner ugliness. A function of post-war vengeance, bland attire emphasised the ethical and economical insufficiencies of the poor, which in turn further justified the post-war cultural and economic impoverishment of them. It was only the onset of mass consumerism in the apertura period, 1959–1970, that led to the democratisation of the aesthetic realm (Valis 78).

Class, Clothing and Motherhood in Los aires difíciles In Los aires difíciles, Sara becomes accustomed to an exquisite aesthetic code during her childhood and early adolescence, and is later downgraded to the more anodyne and unglamorous world of her biological mother, Sebastiana. The disjunction between these two maternal aesthetic codes contributes to the fragmentation of Sara’s identity as a child and her adult endorsement of an immobile class system that belittles her due to her humble birth, while also instilling in her a profound sense of unworthiness. Throughout the novel, the aesthetic renders tangible opposing class systems and their maternal functions, by the association of higher-status women with culture and the lower class with nature. In this novel, there is a striking demarcation between the maternal images of Sebastiana, Sara’s poverty-stricken biological mother, and Doa Sara, her affluent madrina, a juxtaposition conveyed by the adult Sara’s association of her mother with “un delantal” and Doa Sara with “un collar de perlas” (305), images that conjure up cooking and elegance, respectively. Doa Sara implicitly denigrates Sebastiana by only ever commending her completion of household chores, such as her careful washing of curtains and her succulent roast chicken (40). For upper-class madrileos, housekeeping was considered “una tarea vulgar e impropia de una persona de un estatus elevado,” and they dedicated themselves to achieving distinction in four domains: decorative taste, fluid relationships with their social equals, charitable endeavors and the supervision of their children (Artola Blanco 57). Throughout the text, Sebastiana represents the most basic functions of the domestic sphere, cleaning, cooking and nurturing, all of which are inextricably linked with elementary natural processes. The narrator describes the young Sara’s perception of her mother in olfactory terms as “olía a limpio, 8 Motherhood, Clothing and Class a agua y jabn” (44). She also evokes images of nurturing and caring in the young Sara – Sebastiana is presented as instinctively maternal, relishing “el olor de los recién nacidos, su dulzura” and breastfeeding (125). Throughout the text, Doa Sara exercises a more culturally instructive than nurturing function, while Sebastiana is inextricably related to caring and serving others. As an adoptive mother, Doa Sara never actually gives birth and neither does she carry out any laborious child-minding tasks, both devalued processes that “identify women with the lower ends of socio-cultural organisa- tion” (Ortner 28). Her complete disengagement from the constant demands of childcare, and from the pain of childbirth, reinforces her role as the repository of class privileges and their visible articulation. Sara’s madrina epitomises the splendor of the upper bourgeoisie and their obsession with elegance. Importantly, she is divorced from labor and concentrates solely on the performance of her social role. Accordingly, she is a guide to discern- ment in both choice of social company, materials and fashion (305). Under Doa Sara’s tutelage, Sara undergoes a socialisation process that prioritises good taste and the performance of an elevated social position. Therefore, from the outset, Sebastiana and Doa Sara embody polar opposites of a femininity molded by class, a binarism that is most evident in their respective wedding ceremonies when attitudes to dress come to the fore. Practicality triumphing over fashionability, Sebastiana wore an unsuit- able black dress on her wedding day simply because she could not counte- nance paying for a dress that would only be worn for one day. Leo del Val observes that “la tradicin era vestir de negro para después poder utilizar la vestimenta también por luto. Slo las familias pudientes se permitían llevar el vestido de novia de color blanco” (95). Doa Sara’s wedding trumpeted her enviable social position as an heiress to one of the biggest fortunes in Madrid: her dress was silk, she wore a tiara which could rival that of Queen Victoria Eugenia and the lavish reception was held in the Ritz (112). Being obliged to reflect on the economic feasibility of all activities, including motherhood, Sebastiana cannot engage with the aesthetic realm in any substan- tive way, while Doa Sara can exclusively dedicate herself to it. Therefore, Grandes portrays femininity and motherhood as multilayered experiences, consisting of higher and lower functions and, moreover, she implies that a woman’s capacity to dedicate herself to the higher or lower functions is very much conditioned by class. The experience of femininity intersects with class, condemning lower-class women to austere dress, while higher-class women’s economic resources permit them to attain aesthetic distinction. The function of clothing in this novel, however, is irreducible to the embodiment of different social strata, for it is also a key factor in Sara’s estrangement from her biological family. Carolyn Steedman asserts that from the age of seven upward, children are capable of class differentiation (52). Demonstrating a sensitivity to, and a preoccupation with, appearance, manners and clothing, Sara’s habitus is perceptible even as a child. The marked disparity between the meagreness of her parents’ household and Motherhood, Clothing and Class 9 the abundance of Doa Sara’s gives rise to a tumult of conflicting feelings in the young child. Neither of the young girl’s parents measure up to her exacting aesthetic standards: Sebastiana is fat, and her hair is badly dyed, while Arcadio’s clothes are clearly well-worn, bearing the marks of constant mending. Further appalled by her brothers’ uncouthness, she longs to be reunited with her madrina, Doa Sara (47). These Sunday visits evi- dence the power of the habitus in influencing the young girl’s assessment of people. For Sara, her biological parents are the embodiment of failure, negative countermodels, who personify aesthetic dissonance and poverty, and therefore, deserve her rejection: “Casi siempre creía estar segura de que no le habría gustado ser como ellos” (47). She later refers to them as “dos pobres ancianos ignorantes” (52). The habitus inflects on, and distorts, Sara’s relationship with her biological parents because it endows her with expectations against which they fall decidedly short. Superseding biological bonds, the accouterments of social status condition Sara’s response to people, ultimately eroding her affinity with her impecunious parents. Her discomfort in her parents’ house constitutes a measure of the success of Doa Sara’s socialisation, for it indicates that the young girl’s identity and class are interwoven to such an extent that she is exceptionally attuned to appearance and etiquette and, moreover, is repelled by the markers of low social status. As a teenager, Sara’s habitus generates a set of expectations and behavior concordant with her elevated social position: she ponders on her subject choice in university, probably French; competes for consumerist supremacy with her friend, Maruchi; and envisages the prosperity of her married life with her boyfriend, Juan Mari. Her rivalry with Maruchi is symptomatic of the intraclass covetousness of distinction, the desire to outdo members of the same class by the display of more wealth and finer clothing. Given the comfort and ease of her life, her return to her humble parents in 1963, at the age of sixteen, is distressing, an anguish articulated by two markers of status and taste: black shoes and a blue carpet, respectively. Following her frank conversation with Sara about her origins and future destiny, Doa Sara instructs her to purchase functional black shoes for her sixteenth birthday because they are far more practical for Sara than the beautiful silk ones that the adolescent wants to wear for her sixteenth birthday party (115). The return of Sara to her parents augurs the primacy of practicality and the purchase of working clothes that optimise productivity. Upon return to her parents’ home, Sara reviles the blue carpet her parents had bought especially for her as a homecoming gift, as it is common and tasteless, a perfect symbol of her social demotion. Doa Sara’s socialisation of Sara has endowed the girl with acute aesthetic sensibilities, scant knowledge of the practicalities of everyday life and a sense of entitlement to the finer things in life. Henceforth, Sara’s actions prove the irreversibility of the social norms inculcated in her by her madrina. Her concern with the external markers of status is so intense that she even strives to renovate her parent’s flat by 10 Motherhood, Clothing and Class buying them a television and redecorating their sitting room. She calibrates people in terms of clothing: for example, Seora Sevilla, her typing teacher, incarnates “la mujer mediana,” with her six pairs of shoes and her matching twinsets (207). Furious at Doa Sara’s treatment of her, Sara initially refuses to have any contact with her. In an altogether more practical vein, Sebastiana implores the teenager to reconsider her stance, her insistence being expressed in the most basic of social needs, eating: “El orgullo no te da de comer, Sara” (200). Tellingly, the narrator informs us that Sara “jamás se había aplicado ese verbo a sí mismo, alimentarse, dar de comer” (291). While her parents’ concerns pivot on the most rudimentary of needs, Sara’s cohere on the manifestations of high social status, such as decorum and elegant furnish- ings and dress. Her mother’s concerns with the travails of working-class life are incomprehensible to her and this lack of synchronicity contributes to the distant relationship between biological mother and daughter. In short, class norms erect a schism between the two women, which their biological kinship cannot dissolve. This transformation substantiates the idea that the class dictates welded into and communicated via the mother–daughter dyad corrode the nurturing essence of the relationship. Paradoxically, it is Sara’s alignment with the calcified bourgeoisie conceptualisation of class personified by her madrina that disables her capacity to flourish, one that should have been maximised in the 1960s, the apertura period in which Spain transmuted into a modern, industrialised society. The immense change in Spanish society during these years can be gauged by the following statistic: average income rose from US$290 in 1955 to $497 in 1965 and $2,486 in 1975 (Shubert 258). From 1960 to 1973, Spain was the second fastest growing economy in the world, surpassed only by Japan (Encarnacin 39). The creation of a consumer society transformed social mores. In her history of the growth of consumerism during the 1954–1964 period, Tatjana Pavlović asserts that “a society of sacrifice become a society of leisure, much more in line with emergent global consumerism” (32). The modernisation process corroded previously implacable class divisions, both by its creation of well-paid employment and the democratisation of third-level education, which, until then, had been an elitist preserve. The economic miracle engendered “increased social and class mobility, creating a deeper and broader middle-class” (Mohammad 256). This period also foregrounded the transitional shift in gender ideology, as Spanish women participated in the new consumer society, which allowed them to determine their own personal lives. Unsurprisingly, Spanish women began to aspire to the prototype of “the new woman” who engaged in remunerated activity in the booming economy (Coca Hernando 56). Despite her lack of education, Sebastiana intuits that the vastly improved, changed opportunity structure can benefit Sara, but only with the help of her madrina. Poverty no longer has to perpetuate itself as industrialisation has extended the previously limited array of options available to the poor. Motherhood, Clothing and Class 11 However, the mother clearly believes that being a good girl is, as Steedman so aptly puts it, “taking on the perspective of those who are more powerful than you” (63). Her insistence that Sara effect a reconciliation with her madrina is symptomatic of the permanence of class structures which had long induced a resignation of the Spanish working class to the dominance of a wealthy elite. Sara’s mother, however, is not wholly responsible for Sara’s eventual acquiescence to visit her madrina: rather, it is the negative memory of the futility of the class struggle of the Second Republic, imparted to her by her father, Arcadio, that strengthens her resolve to “acabar siendo de los que habían estudiado, de los que valían para mandar, de los que sabían, encontrar un buen trabajo, ganar dinero, vivir bien” (203). In contrast to the prevalent disinterest in the memory of the Civil War during this period, Sara questions her father about his role in it. Embittered by the incommen- surate personal price he was forced to pay for his activism, Arcadio pre- sents his younger self and his comrades as the ignorant stooges of infinitely smarter people, “los que valían para mandar” (202). The memory of the Second Republic reaffirms the hypercapitalism of aperturismo whereby a capital-hungry and economically backward nation unreservedly embraced Western-style consumerism. Furthermore, Arcadio’s disillusionment inadvertently vindicates the very intransigent class system that impoverished him and denied his other three children a decent education and the possibility of social betterment. Validating the futility of class struggle, it refigures social ascension as only achievable through the backing of the dominant class. Thus, paradoxically, the memory of the Second Republic, a political project that strove to attenuate stringent class differences and ameliorate the lives of the working class, functions as a salutary warning to potential disputants of prevailing class structures. In reconciling with Doa Sara, Sara implicitly rejects the much more democratic and meritocratic conceptualisation of class prevalent during the apertura period, subscribing to one that ultimately circumscribes her potentialities. In order to understand this self-limitation, it is necessary to explore the class positionality of Doa Sara and her husband Don Antonio. The couple personify the post-war upper class, whose class prejudices had only been accentuated by the Civil War when Doa Sara disguised herself to traverse the then Republican-controlled streets of Madrid (115). The Republican domination of Madrid proved to be a social leveler, as the inflammatory political situation made ostentation unthinkable for the rich, forcing Doa Sara to dress in nondescript clothing: “Sebas no fue capaz de reconocer a la primera a aquella mujer humilde, humildemente envuelta en un abrigo de pao gris con las coderas rozadas” (115). The equalisation inherent in her ordinary attire, however, only functions as corroboration of extant upper-class, pejorative views on the working class, and culminates in the post-war retrenchment of an inflexible class stratification. Throughout the war, the lower classes were excoriated as degenerate and envious of those who outranked them in intellect, class and financial wherewithal (Cazorla 12 Motherhood, Clothing and Class Sánchez 52). This idea was premised on the work of the Francoist psychia- trist Antonio Vallejo Nágera, who sustained the view that the Republicans were contaminated with the Marxist virus, which presented itself in the symptoms of a proclivity to base emotions and a poor intellect (Ryan, “Sins of the Father” 245). In a patent subversion of Francoist thinking, Grandes reverts the aetiol- ogy of the virus, which in this novel originates with Doa Sara’s husband, Don Antonio, whose wartime sexual excesses afflict him with an unknown disease that leaves him paralysed and sexually impotent. His cowardice and libidinousness contrast with the idealism and undoubted bravery of Arcadio, who rises to be a captain in the Republican army, by virtue of his own merit. The couple’s ingrained class biases as well as the destabilising experience of the Civil War create a set of preconceived ideas about the primacy of consanguinity and the inherent lowness of the working class, which leads Don Antonio to disapprove of not only what he regards as his wife’s fool- ishness, but an unyielding refusal to adopt Sara. Class, for him, is based on kinship, and consequently he believes that Sara “debería seguir comiendo y cenando en la cocina, por muy bien que hubiera aprendido a utilizar los cubiertos” (105). This is, after all, a man who tolerates no childish blunders and whose class biases are not tempered, as is the case of Doa Sara, by a need for affective connection. Consequently, the relationship between Sara and Don Antonio is defined by its emotional coldness: Sara addresses him by the formal “usted,” and she instinctively knows not to contradict him or be demanding in his presence. For the couple, the destabilisation of their privileges during the war and their devolution to the status of ordinary, even despised people, fuels their constant reiteration of class divides in the post- war period. Their perspectives on clothing, the master–servant relationship and their attitudes towards the defeated are distorted by the traumatic memory of the brief egalitarianism of the bellic period. More important, it causes them to revile any idea of class mobility and to endorse a notion of high social class as hereditary and inaccessible to ordinary people. Although Doa Sara certainly does love Sara, their closeness does not cause her to interrogate or reformulate her perception of class differences, for she self-perceives as a Pygmalion-type figure who is performing an act of charity. As she tells Sara in their farewell conversation: “Yo me comprometí a hacerte una seorita, y bueno, yo ya he cumplido con mi parte” (124). Her self-presentation as a disinterested benefactress is hypocritical because she undertook to raise Sara primarily to assuage her own feelings of emptiness and lack of direction. At no stage, however, did her assumption of a quasi- maternal role imply an unsettling of her class prejudices, which are blatantly manifested by her actions prior to, and ensuing, Sara’s Sunday visits to her parents. First, her madrina sends Sara on her Sunday visits in only barely acceptable clothing, an ill-fitting skirt from last season (41). On her return, she bathes and perfumes the child, a beautifying ablution that can be read as a symbolic re-entrance into upper-class life. The contamination inherent Motherhood, Clothing and Class 13 in Sara’s contact with the poor, her own parents, is first purged by water, a purifying force, and is later superimposed by the smells to which Doa Sara is habituated. The erasure of any remnants of the visit, along with Doa Sara’s diatribes against Arcadio, signal the post-war repugnance of the working class, who the upper class considered untrustworthy, seditious and threatening. The scruffiness of the child’s clothing on her Sunday visits is indicative of the notion of adornment and elegance as exclusive manifestations of upper-class life, not only to be withheld from the resentful poor but not even to be seen by them. The child’s shabbiness demonstrates how limited Doa Sara’s concern for the child is, revealing as it does its spatial restriction to the house in Calle Velázquez. In the untidy flat of Calle Jernimo, Sara interacts with her family, a set of people whom Doa Sara considers her social inferiors. While there, the child does not act as an exten- sion of Doa Sara nor display her social prestige. This spatial demarcation is revelatory of the persistence of class prejudices that render Doa Sara’s relationship with the child Sara conditional, very much predicated on the child’s amenability to her madrina’s lifestyle and value system. Luxurious clothing is provided for Sara as a resident of the household in which she lives and its social reflection, but not to bolster her selfhood. However, it is in her post-1963 actions that Doa Sara reveals the extent of her class consciousness, a period in which her self-proclaimed generos- ity is exposed as tight-fistedness, self-interest and the maintenance of class distinctions. She pointedly disputes the wisdom of Sara’s accession to higher education: ensuring their rapprochement, she pays an infinitesimal sum for Sara’s secretarial course. Doa Sara’s failure to subsidise a proper education for Sara damages her adopted daughter’s employment prospects in the 1980s, when college graduates proliferated and diplomas no longer sufficed to secure sought-after positions (383). Later, Doa Sara offers to remon- strate with Sara’s married upper-class lover, Vicente González de Sandoval, in order that he might assume responsibility for Sara’s expected child. The latter action is interpreted by Sara as “una conversacin de igual a igual,” with patent overtones of snobbishness and the imputation of an undefinable inferiority to Sara’s personhood (386). During her period as a carer in the employ of Doa Sara, Sara’s feelings of social inadequacy are aggravated by her realisation that Doa Sara, despite her assurances to the contrary, has not included her in her will. Her immense fortune is bequeathed to Amparo, a provincial cousin whom Doa Sara detests. In a sense, Doa Sara is responsible for Sara’s social immobility, her inheritance of her parents’ positions as pawns in the capitalist system. This unwanted genera- tional replication is encapsulated by the frequent repetition of the following ironic description of Sara: “Era una trabajadora excelente, honrada, con- cienzuda, responsable” (406). The phrase denotes the implacability of the inequitable class structure that overshadowed Sara’s life: Sebastiana and Arcadio were workers, and now Sara, despite all her early promise, is one also. This reproduction can be attributed to the asynchronous nature of 14 Motherhood, Clothing and Class Doa Sara’s socialisation of Sara, whereby she imparted class imperatives to her, but also exercised her own class prejudices against her adopted daughter, purposively refraining from making her a bona fide member of her own higher class. This asymmetry explains the bifurcated nature of Sara’s class positioning: while she adheres to upper-class norms, she is not a member of that class in any personally advantageous way, such as securing a sinecure and disposing of a large income. Her experiences of two social classes define her as a hybrid who externalises a class position, of which her present circumstances and life choices do not allow her to be a full-fledged member. Thus, Sara has to grapple with her overriding need to possess objects and clothing appropriate to the class in which she was raised, and her insuf- ficient income to sustain high-level consumerism and a sybaritic lifestyle, a disjunction that leads her to commit a criminal act. Interestingly, Sara’s imperceptible progress from the apertura period to the 1980s is expressed through the metaphor of a train: “Algunos trenes circulan tan despacio que parece que no avanzan, que nunca han llegado a abandonar la estacin, pero se mueven” (207). The train appears to advance slowly but suddenly accelerates, delivering a shocking blow to the hare who seems to run faster than it (381). Since the railways generated unprecedented economic and social mobility and, by so doing, fissured many premodern socioeconomic constructs, there is generally a conflation of trains with modernisation (Faith 54). Its usage here, however, reaffirms Sara’s incompat- ibility with the hypercapitalism of the 1960s onward, and thus functions as a symbol of regression. Sara envisages a type of social revenge, whereby she will stealthily undermine Doa Sara, a retrograde action that condemns her to social stasis, to a downward spiral of low-paid jobs, and in the 1980s, dependence on Doa Sara. Rather than fully utilising the evolution of social structures to guarantee her own independence, she is entrapped by Doa Sara vision of capital as hereditary and stagnant. As much as Sara was out of step with the apertura period, she certainly does not represent any of the dynamism of the Transition and the 1980s. These were both periods in which she was relatively young, only celebrating her fortieth birthday in 1986. Mark Allinson has defined presentismo, “living for the present,” as one of the most prominent features of the Transition (271). Arising partly from the precariousness of Spain’s economic situation and partly from the collapse of the culture of moral absolutism, this facet of the Transition led to a certain recklessness among Spaniards. John Hooper perceives the “enjoy, enjoy, enjoy” spirit of the Transition and asserts that such an explo- sion of carefree hedonism was inevitable after so many years of repression under Franco (80). Therefore, in the 1970s and 1980s, women’s gender ideologies began to be formulated from their own subjective desires and a perception of self largely untainted by rigid gender dictates. Yet, similar to her experience of the apertura, Sara is the very antithesis of the modern Spanish woman that emerged during the Transition, as she is employed in a job that forces her to regress rather than accelerate, thereby engendering Motherhood, Clothing and Class 15 feelings of “fosilizacin” (406). Disillusioned with her unrewarding career, Sara eventually becomes a criminal, enriching herself by defrauding Doa Sara. This miscreance has clear parallels with the financial scandals of the 1980s and 1990s, surrounding, for example, Mario Conde and Mariano Rubio (Rueda Acedo 73). Ironically, it is a criminal act that is motivated by the acquisitiveness fostered in her by Doa Sara: “cuantas cosas bonitas, a menudo caras, se podrían comprar con ese dinero” (408). Given the obduracy of Doa Sara’s snobbishness and its implicit delimi- tation of Sara’s ability to achieve her maximum potential, it is imperative to ask why the young woman would continue to subscribe to a variation of class that does not favor her self-advancement, especially in an epoch, the 1960s, in which a more fluid vision of upward mobility had eroded class differences. Granted, her biological parents advocate a more servile interclass set of relations, their opinions could be, and were, easily dismissed by young women in Spain who disposed of their own incomes and attendant free- doms. The answer resides in the irreversibility of the habitus: ergo, the values and class norms imparted by the mother are so deeply rooted that they are virtually unchangeable in later life. Consequently, effective socialisation in specific class values during childhood ensures adherence to them throughout the person’s life and is thus crucial to the reproduction of class. Not only is this theory substantiated by Sara’s affiliation to discriminatory class injunctions, her distancing from her biological parents, and her defrauding of Doa Sara, but also by her selection of her lover, her inordinate valua- tion of beautiful objects and her sense of propriety. Sara becomes besotted with Vicente because, in both appearance and demeanor, he reminds her of the distinguished gentlemen who used to visit Doa Sara’s house (211). Vicente, the narrator tells us, “le devolvi el brillo” (114), presumably to be understood as the luster of social prominence and affluence. When they are together, she monitors her behavior in accordance with the etiquette taught to her by Doa Sara, only once failing to do so when she tries to steal complimentary hotel toiletries to give to her mother. Therefore, Sara cleaves to Doa Sara’s gendered, traditional vision of class wherein one’s romantic relationship leads to capital acquisition, which is then visibly articulated by the display of class in objects, dress and manners. She envisages capital as a given, to be provided by the male, and then symbolised by a woman, and consequently, the idea of a woman actively seeking and obtaining capital seems alien to her. In this novel, her first postmillennial work, Grandes offers no sense of clo- sure on the mother–daughter relationship: indeed, the interaction between her two mothers and Sara is mired in an antipathy and mutual misunderstanding borne of class divisiveness. Sara’s adoption of Doa Sara’s class ideology attests to the formidable role played by the mother in the social reproduction of class, for not even the amplified opportunity structure in the 1960s alters the daughter’s outlook on class. More disquieting still is the fact that the daughter does not contest or negotiate childhood class norms 16 Motherhood, Clothing and Class but readily accepts them, even when they impair her sense of identity and foreclose her possibilities of social advancement. The maternal transmission of class hinders her ability to flourish, thus perpetuating the victimhood of her parents. Class precepts supersede the biological nexus between Sara and Sebastiana, converting their relationship into something akin to a distant acquaintanceship, while it irrevocably binds Doa Sara and her adopted daughter in an ultimately destructive relationship. The maternal transmission of class imperatives is thus configured by Grandes as equally as perni- cious as the imposition of gender norms to the well-being and happiness of the daughter. Furthermore, the adoptive mother commits symbolic and class violence that attests to the capacity of the family to perpetuate ideological divisions that harm family members. Their destructive relationship is the first iteration of complex and affective victim–perpetrator relationships within the family, a perspective that is complicated further in the next novel I will examine, El corazn helado.

Notes 1 One can conjecture that the paucity of class-based literary criticism could be due to Spaniards’ perception of Spain as a middle-class society. Seventy percent of Spaniards who earn between 14,000 and 42,000 euros a year consider themselves middle-class (Escolar 115). 2 Memoirs by leading British academics who hail from a working-class background lend credence to Bourdieu’s contention. Annette Kuhn bitterly observes that her proletarian childhood caused her to feel that “I never got it right” (8). Carolyn Steedman remembers feeling “both desired and a burden,” a further strain on the exiguous family resources (17). Furthermore, she blamed her mother for having tried to stymie her self-development by her incessant exaltation of hum- bleness (87). More than validating the prevalent blaming of the mother as the source of all their children’s adult misfortunes, Kuhn’s and Steedman’s writings indicate the irrevocability of class, for their adult discomfort can be interpreted as signs of their own inherent sense of inferiority deriving from their inability to shed their working-class upbringing. Select Bibliography

Primary Sources Grandes, Almudena. Malena es un nombre de tango. Madrid: Tusquets Editorial, 1994. Grandes, Almudena. Atlas de geografía humana. Madrid: Tusquets Editorial, 1998. Grandes, Almudena. Los aires difíciles. Madrid: Tusquets Editorial, 2002. Grandes, Almudena. El corazn helado. Madrid: Tusquets Editorial, 2007. Grandes, Almudena. Inés y la alegría. Madrid: Tusquets Editorial, 2010. Grandes, Almudena. El lector de Julio Verne. Madrid: Tusquets Editorial, 2012. Grandes, Almudena. Las tres bodas de Manolita. Madrid. Tusquets Editorial, 2014. Grandes, Almudena. Los besos en el pan. Madrid. Tusquets Editorial, 2015. Grandes, Almudena. Los pacientes del Dr. García. Madrid: Tusquets Editorial, 2017.

Works Cited Abella, Rafael. La vida amorosa en la Segunda Repblica. Madrid: Temas de Hoy, 1996. Abella, Rafael. La vida cotidiana bajo el régimen de Franco. Madrid: Temas de Hoy, 1996. Agencias. “Esteban González Pons: “El problema de los espaoles no es Franco, es el paro.” El País, 30 November 2011. https://elpais.com/politica/2011/11/30/actual idad/1322654115_798303.html . Accessed 13 November 2012. Águilera Gamero, María. La narrativa de Almudena Grandes (1994–2004). Doctoral dissertation, Universidad de Crdoba, 2012. Aitken, Stuart C. The Awkward Spaces of Fathering. Sussex: Ashgate Publishing, 2012. Alba, Richard D. Ethnic Identity: The Transformation of White America. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990. Alcina, Benito. Tratado de higiene privada y pblica. Madrid: Colecciones Siglo XIX, 1892. Aldaraca, Bridget A. El ángel del hogar: Galds and the Ideology of Domesticity in Spain. North Carolina: The University of North Carolina Press, 2018. Alegre, Beatriz Caamao. “La vida sonríe a quien le sonríe’: Cristina Guzmán como modelo de feminidad falangista.” Bulletin of Spanish Studies 85.4 (2008): 421–44. 18 Select Bibliography Alfonso, García, and María del Carmen. Antonio de Hoyos y Vinent, una fgura del decadentismo hispánico. Oviedo: Universidad de Oviedo Press, 1998. Allison, Mark. “The Construction of Youth in Spain in the 1980s and 1990s.” Contemporary Spanish Cultural Studies. Eds. Barry Jordan and Rikki Morgan- Tamosunas. London: Arnold, 2000. 265–73. Álvarez Chillida, Gonzalo. “Antisemitism and Philosephardism in Spain, 1880– 1945.” Spain, World War II and the Holocaust: History and Representation. Eds. Gina Herrman and Sara Brenneis. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2020. 65–83. Améry, Jean. At the Mind’s Limits: Contemplations by a Survivor on Auschwitz and its Realities. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2009. Anabitarte, Ana. “Almudena Grandes: Lloro muchísimo escribiendo.” Babab 15 (2002). http://www.babab.com/no15/almudena_grandes.htm . Accessed 2 June 2014. Anderson, Kjell. “Who was I to Stop the Killing? Moral Neutralization among Rwandan Genocide Perpetrators.” Journal of Perpetrator Research 1.1 (2017): 39–64. Anderson, Lara. Control and Resistance: Food Discourse in Franco Spain. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2020. Anderson, Peter, and Miguel Ángel del Arco Blanco. “Property, The Forging of Francoism and Collective Memory.” International Journal of Iberian Studies 30.2 (2017): 73–92. Andres-Suárez, Irene. “Memoria e identidad en El corazn helado de Almudena Grandes.” Almudena Grandes: Grand Séminaire de Neuchâtel, Coloquio internacional Almudena Grandes, 1–2 de junio de 2010. Eds. Andres-Suárez, Irene, and Antonio Rivas. Madrid: Arco Libros, 2012. 155–72. Aover, Veronica. “Encuentro con Almudena Grandes.” Letras Peninsulares 13.2–3 (2002): 803–13. Antze, Paul and Michael Lambek. Tense Past: Cultural Essays in Trauma and Memory. London: Routledge, 2016. Arenas, Paula. “Almudena Grandes: “Hay que ser muy valiente para pedir ayuda y también para aceptarla.” 20 minutos, 15 December 2015. https://www.20m inutos.es/noticia/2628233/0/entrevista/almudena-grandes/los-besos-en-el-pan/ . Accessed 7 June 2019. Arendt, Hannah. Eichmann in Jerusalem. London: Penguin, 2006. Aresti, Nerea. Médicos, donjuanes y mujeres modernas. Los ideales de feminidad y masculinidad en el primer tercio del siglo XX. Bilbao: Servicio Editorial de la Universidad del PAIS Vasco, 2002. Arjona, Daniel. “Almudena Grandes: Tengo muchos lectores de derechas.” 13 September 2017. https://www.elconfidencial.com/cultura/2017-09-13/almud ena-grandes-los-pacientes-del-doctor-garcia-entrevista_1442905/ . Accessed 15 January 2020. Artola Blanco, Miguel. El fn de la clase ociosa: de Romanones al Estraperlo, 1900– 1950 Madrid: Alianza, 2015. Ascunce Arrieta, José Ángel. Sociología cultural del franquismo (1936-1975). Coleccin Historia Biblioteca Nueva. Madrid: Editorial Biblioteca Nueva, 2015. Augé, Marc. Non-Places: An Introduction to an Anthropology of Modernity. London: Polity. Select Bibliography 19 Aunin, Juan A. “Almudena Grandes: Es un error pensar que la memoria tiene que ver solo con el pasado” El País, 24 October 2018. https://elpais.com/cultura/201 8/10/23/actualidad/1540290918_723626.html . Accessed 19 June 2019. Averis, Kate. Exile and Nomadism in French and Hispanic Women’s Writing. London: Routledge, 2017. Baer, Alejandro. “The Voids of Sepharad: The Memory of the Holocaust in Spain.” Journal of Spanish Cultural Studies 12.1 (2011): 95–120. Bakhtin, Mikhail. Rabelais and his World. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1984. Balme, Eleanor, Clare Gerada, and Lisa Page. “Doctors need to be Supported, not Trained in Resilience.” British Medical Journal 351 (2015): 4709–713. Bandura, Albert. “Selective Activation and Disengagement of Moral Control.” Journal of Social Issues 46.1 (1990): 27–46. Barambio, Yolanda. “Almudena Grandes. Los pacientes del doctor García. Entrevista.” El Tintero Editorial, 6 March 2018. https://eltinteroeditorial.com/ almudena-grandes . Accessed 7 May 2018. Barnes, Julia C. “How Does a Memory Become Collective?: The Creation and Actualization of Collective Memories in Almudena Grandes’ El corazn helado.” Letras Hispanas: Revista de literatura y de cultura 10.1 (2014): 5–16. Barreira, David and Lorena G. Maldonado. “30.000 bebés robados: la idea de Franco que aprovech la democracia.” 27 September 2018. https://www.elespanol.com /cultura/libros/20180927/bebes-robados-idea-franco-aprovecho-democracia/340 967163_0.html . Accessed 19 September 2019. Barthes, Roland. Camera Lucida: Refections on Photography. London: Macmillan, 1981. Bauman, Zygmunt. Modernity and the Holocaust. New York: Cornell University Press, 2000. Beard, Mary. Women and Power: A Manifesto. Oxford: Profile Books, 2017. Becerra Mayor, David. La Guerra Civil como moda literaria. Madrid: Clave Intelectual, 2015. Bejel, Emilio. “Positivist Contradictions in Hernández Catá’s El ángel de sodoma.” Anales de la literatura espaola contemporánea 25.1 (2000): 63–76. Belausteguigoitia, Santiago. “Mendicutti considera El corazn helado una novela dolorosa y sensual.” El País, 27 March 2007. https://elpais.com/diario/2007/03 /27/andalucia/1174947735_850215.html. Accessed 19 September 2013. Bell, Duncan. Memory, Trauma and World Politics: Refections on the Relationship between Past and Present. London: Springer, 2006. Bell, David, and Gill Valentine. Mapping Desire: Geographic Sexuality. London: Routledge, 2003. Berlant, Lauren. Cruel Optimism. North Carolina: Duke University Press, 2011. Bernaldo, de Quirs Constancio and José María Llanas Aguilaniedo. La mala vida en Madrid: estudio psico-sociolgico. Madrid: Rodríguez Serra Editor, 1901. Bersani, Leo. Homos. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2009. Besas, Peter. Nazis en Madrid. Madrid: La Librería, 2015. Beynon, John. Masculinities and Culture. London: McGraw-Hill Education, 2001. Bezhanova, Olga. “Writing Spain’s Fraught History: Testimony or Fiction?” Testimony and Trauma: Engaging Common Ground. Eds. Cristina Santos, Adriana Spahr, and Tracy Crowe Morey. Amsterdam: Brill, 2019. 61–86. Bhabha, Homi K. The Location of Culture. London: Routledge, 2012. 20 Select Bibliography Binnie, Jon. “Relational Comparison, Queer Urbanism and Worlding Cities.” Geography Compass 8.8 (2014): 590–99. Bohner, Gerd, Soledad de Lemus, Rocio Garner Retamero, Jess L. Megías, Pilar Montaes and Miguel Moya. “Intergenerational Transmission of Benevolent Sexism from Mothers to Daughters and its Relation to Daughters’ Academic Performance and Goals.” Sex Roles 66 (2012): 468–78. Bourdieu, Pierre. Masculine Domination. Trans. Richard Nice. California: Stanford University Press, 2001. Bourdieu, Pierre. The Bachelors’ Ball: The Crisis of Peasant Society in Bearn. Oxford: Polity Press, 2008. Bourdieu, Pierre. Distinction: A Social Critique on the Judgement of Taste. Trans. Richard Nice. London: Routledge Classics, 2013. Bouris, Erica. Complex Political Victims. New York: Kumarian Press, 2007. Bowen, Wayne H. Spaniards and Nazi Germany: Collaboration in the New Order. Missouri: University of Missouri Press, 2000. Boym, Svetlana. The Future of Nostalgia. New York: Basic Books, 2008. Bracke, Sarah. “Is the Subaltern Resilient? Notes on Agency and Neoliberal Subjects.” Cultural Studies 30.5 (2016): 839–55. Braidotti, Rosi. Transpositions: On Nomadic Ethics. London: Polity, 2006. Brenneis, Sara J. “The Death of Historical Memory? Javier Cercas’s El Impostor versus the Legacy of Spaniards Deported to Nazi Camps.” Journal of Spanish Cultural Studies 19.3 (2018): 365–81. Bridenthal, Renate, and Claudia Koontz. Becoming Visible: Women in European History. London: Routledge, 1997. Brodkin, C. Andrew, Frumkin, Howard, Kirkland, Katherine H., Orris, Peter, Schenk, Maryjean, Mohr, Sandra. “Choosing a Professional Code for Ethical Conduct in Occupational and Environmental Medicine.” Journal of Occupational and Environmental Medicine 40.10 (1998): 840–42. Burke, Peter. New Perspectives on Historical Writing. Pennsylvania: Penn State Press, 2001. Burlein, Ann. Lift High the Cross: Where White Supremacy and the Christian Right Converge. North Carolina: Duke University Press, 2002. Butler, Judith. Precarious Life: The Powers of Mourning and Violence. London: Verso, 2006. Butler, Judith. “Rethinking Vulnerability and Resistance.” Vulnerability in Resistance. Eds. Judith Butler, Zeynep Gambetti and Leticia Sabsay. Durham, NC, and London: Duke University Press, 2016. 12–27. Byron, Kristine. “Writing the Female Revolutionary Self: Dolores Ibárruri and the Spanish Civil War.” Journal of Modern Literature 28.1 (2004): 138–65. Campbell, Joseph. The Hero with a Thousand Faces. New York: New World Library, 2008. Campos Fígares, Mar and Juan Carlos Rodríguez. “Entrevista con Almudena Grandes.”Álabe: Revista de Investigacin sobre Lectura y Escritura 3 (2011). http:// revistaalabe.com/index/alabe/article/view/57/53 . Accessed 8 Septemer 2019. Capitanio, Sarah. “Ici-bas and L’Au-de la” But Not as They Knew it. Realism, Utopianism and Science Fiction in the Novels of Jules Verne.” Jules Verne: Narrative of Modernity. Ed. Edward Smyth. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2004. 60–75. Caplan, Paula J. Don’t Blame Mother: Mending the Mother-Daughter Relationship. London: Harpercollins, 1989. Select Bibliography 21 Carrasco, Cristina. “La sártén por el mango: la cocina como resistencia en Inés y la alegría (2010) de Almudena Grandes.” Estudios sobre Almudena Grandes. Eds. Helena Talaya and Sara Fernández Medina. Granada: Valparaíso Ediciones, 2016. 59–77. Carrigan, Tim, Bob Connell, and John Lee. “Toward a New Sociology of Masculinity.” Theory and Society 14.5 (1985): 551–604. Carrillo, Santiago. Memorias. Barcelona: Planeta, 2008. Caruth, Cathy. Unclaimed Experience: Trauma, Narrative, And History. Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 2016. Casanova, Julián. “Una dictadura de cuarenta aos.” Morir, matar, sobrevivir: la violencia en la dictadura de Franco. Ed. Julián Casanova. Barcelona: Critíca, 2003. 353–78. Cazorla Sánchez, Antonio. Fear and Progress: Ordinary Lives in Franco’s Spain, 1939–1975. London: John Wiley and Sons, 2009. Cercas, Javier. Soldados de Salamina. Madrid: Seix Barral, 2002. Chacn, Dulce. La voz dormida. Barcelona: Seix Barral, 2002. Charon, Rita. Narrative Medicine: Honouring the Stories of Illness. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008. Childers, Julie, and Bob Arnold. “The Inner Lives of Doctors: Physician Emotion in the Care of the Seriously Ill.” The American Journal of Bioethics 19.12 (2019): 29–34. Chodorow, Nancy. Femininities, Masculinities, Sexualities: Freud and Beyond. Kentucky: University of Kentucky Press, 1994. Chodorow, Nancy J. The Reproduction of Mothering: Psychoanalysis and the Sociology of Gender. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999. Cibreiro, Estrella. “Entre la crisis generacional y el éxtasis sexual: El dilema femenino en Atlas de geografía humana de Almudena Grandes.” Romance Studies 20.2 (2002): 129–44. Cleminson, Richard, and Francisco Vázquez García. ‘Los Invisibles’: A History of Male Homosexuality in Spain, 1850–1939. Cardiff: University of Wales, 2007. Closa, Carlos and Paul Heywood. Spain in the European Union. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004. Coca Hernando, Rosa. “Towards a New Image of Women under Franco: The Role of Seccin Femenina.” International Journal of Iberian Studies 11.1 (1998): 5–13. Colebrook, Claire. New Literary Histories: New Historicism and Contemporary Criticism. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1997. Connell, R. W. and James W. Messerschmidt. “Hegemonic Masculinity: Rethinking the Concept.” Gender and Society 19.6 (2004): 829–59. Connerton, Paul. How Societies Remember. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989. Corbalán, Ana. “¿Episodios de una guerra interminable como producto de consumo?” Almudena Grandes: Memoria, compromiso y resistencia. Eds. Helena Talaya and Sara Fernández. Granada: Ediciones Valparaíso, 2017. 105–24. Corbin, Meghan and Luis Estudillo. “One Last Fight: Telling the Stories of the Anti- Francoist Guerrilla in Twenty-First Century Spain.” Hispanic Issues On-Line. Volume 12, (2012): 232–40. Cornwall, Andrea, and Nancy Lindisfarne. “Dislocating Masculinity: Gender, Power and Anthropology.” Dislocating Masculinity: Comparative Ethnographies. Eds. Andrea Cornwall and Nancy Lindisfarne. New York: Routledge, 1994. 8–56. 22 Select Bibliography Crespo Buiturn, Marcela. “El corazn helado de Almudena Grandes: el miedo y la memoria frente al pasado reciente.” Romance Quarterly 60.4 (2013): 221–35. Crownshaw, Richard. “Perpetrator Fictions and Transcultural Memory.” Parallax 17.4 (2011): 75–89. Crumbaugh, Justin. Destination Dictatorship: The Spectacle of Spain’s Tourist Boom and the Reinvention of Difference. New York: SUNY Press, 2010. Cruz, Juan. “Si Freud me hubiera conocido, el complejo de Edipo se llamaría complejo de Almudena.” El País Semanal, 7 March 2014. https://elpais.com/e lpais/2014/03/04/eps/1393931435_882423.html . Accessed 19 March 2018. Cruz-Fernández, Paula A de la. “Embroidering the Nation: The Culture of Sewing and the Spanish Ideologies of Domesticity, 1930–1950.” Memory and Cultural History of the Spanish Civil War: Realms of Oblivion. Ed. Aurora Gmez Morcillo. Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2013. 249–83. Cunniff Gilson, Erin. “Vulnerability and Victimization: Rethinking Key Concepts in Feminist Discourses on Sexual Violence.” Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 42.1 (2016): 71–98. Dean, Carolyn Janice. The Fragility of Empathy after the Holocaust. New York: Cornell University Press, 2004. De Certeau, Miguel. The Practice of Everyday Life. London: Polity, 1984. Delbo, Charlotte. Days and Memory. Boston: Northwestern University Press, 2001. Deleuze, Gilles, and Félix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 1988. Delgado, Luisa Elena, Pura Fernández, and Jo Labanyi, eds. Engaging the Emotions in Spanish Culture and History. Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 2016. Demetriou, Demetrakis Z. “Connell’s Concept of Hegemonic Masculinity: A Critique.” Theory and Society 30.3 (2001): 337–61. Denisoff, Denis. “Consumerism and Stevenson’s Misfit Masculinities.” Robert Louis Stevenson: Writer of Boundaries. Eds. Robert Ambrosini and Rachel Drury. Winsconsin: University of Wisconsin Press, 2004. 286–99. De Toro, Suso. Madera de un presidente: Retrato de Zapatero. Madrid: R.B. Libros, 2007. De Urioste, Carmen. “Memoria de la Guerra Civil y modernidad: el caso de El corazn helado de Almudena Grandes.” The Bulletin of Hispanic Studies 87.8 (2010): 939–60. Díaz, Gorfinkiel and Constanza Tobío. “The Work-Life Balance I—New Gendered Relationships in Spain: The ‘Other’ in the Care Triangle.” International Journal of Iberian Studies 20.1 (2007): 41–63. Print. Di Febo, Giuliana. Resistencia y movimiento de mujeres en Espaa: 1936–1976. Madrid: Icaria Editorial, 1979. DiGiovanni, Lisa. Unsettling Nostalgia in Spain and Chile: Longing for Resistance in Literature and Film. Boston: Lexington Books, 2019. Dine, Phillip. “The French Colonial Empire in Juvenile Fiction: From Jules Verne to Tintin.” Historical Refections 23.2 (1997): 177–203. Dorfman, Ariel. Some Write to the Future: Essays on Contemporary Latin American Fiction. North Carolina: Duke University Press, 1991. Douglas, Mary. Purity and Danger: An Analysis of Concepts of Pollution and Taboo. London: Routledge, 2003. Duncan, Simon. “Mothering, Class and Rationality.” The Sociological Review 53.1 (2005): 50–76. Select Bibliography 23 Dunnage, Jonathan. “Perpetrator Memory and Memories about Perpetrators.” Memory Studies 3.2 (2010): 91–94. Dueas, María. El tiempo entre costuras. Madrid: Planeta, 2011. Durkheim, Emile. Suicide. New York: Free Press, 1897 (1951). Durkheim, Emile. “Childhood.”Thinking: The Journal of Philosophy for Children 3.3–4 (1982): 6–9. Edelman, Lee. No Future: Queer Theory and the Death Drive. North Carolina: Duke University Press, 2004. EFE. “Almudena Grandes gana el Premio Poniatowska de Novela.” Diario de Navarra. 13 (October 2011). Accessed 17 February 2015. Elkin, Lauren. Flâneuse: Women Walk the City in Paris, New York, Tokyo, Venice, and London. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2017. Encarnacin, Omar G. Spanish Politics: Democracy after Dictatorship. London: Polity, 2008. Escolar, Ignacio. “La generacin estafada.” Reacciona. Ed. Rosa María Artal. Madrid: Aguilar, 2011. 111–27. Eslava Galán, Juan. Historia secreta del sexo en Espaa. Madrid: Ediciones Temas de Hoy, 1996. Esteban, José. El Madrid de la Repblica. Madrid: Sílex, 2000. Evans, Jennifer V., and Matt Cook. Eds. Queer Cities, Queer Cultures: Europe since 1945. London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2014. Eyal, Gil. “Identity and Trauma: Two Forms of the Will to Memory.” History and Memory 16.1 (2004): 5–36. Eyerman, Ron. Cultural Trauma: Slavery and the Formation of African American Identity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001. Ezkerra, Iaki. “Los Episodios nacionales de Almudena Grandes.” 11 September 2010. https://www.lasprovincias.es/v/20100911/culturas/episodios-nacionales - almudena-grandes-20100911.html?ref=https:%2F%2Fwww.google.com%2F . Accessed 15 March 2016. Faber, Sebastiaan. Memory Battles of the Spanish Civil War: History, Fiction, Photography. Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 2018. Faith, Nicholas. The World the Railways Made. London: Bodley Head, 1990. Faludi, Susan. Stiffed: The Betrayal of the American Man. New York: W. Morrow and Company, 1999. Fassin, Didier, and Richard Rechtman. The Empire of Trauma: An Inquiry into the Condition of Victimhood. New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2009. Fernández, Pura. Mujer pblica y vida privada: del arte eunuco a la novela lupanaria. London: Tamesis Books, 2008. Fernández de Mata, Ignacio. “In memoriam... esquelas, contra-esquelas y duelos inconclusos de la Guerra Civil Espaola.” Historia, antropología y fuentes orales 42.1 (2009): 93–127. Fernández Medina, Sara. “Entrevista a Almudena Grandes.” Estudios sobre Almudena Grandes. Eds. Sara Fernández Medina and Helena Talaya. Granada: Ediciones Valparaíso, 2017. 18–25. Flaquer, Lluis. La estrella menguante del padre. Barcelona: Ariel, 1999. Foucault, Michel. Language, Counter-Memory, Practice. New York: Cornell University Press, 1980. Foucault, Michel. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. London: Vintage, 2012. 24 Select Bibliography Fournet, Caroline. The Crime of Destruction and The Law of Genocide: Their Impact on Collective Memory. London: Routledge, 2016. Frank, Arthur W. The Wounded Storyteller: Body, Illness, and Ethics. University of Chicago Press, Chicago. 2013. Frankl, Viktor E. Man’s Search for Meaning. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1985. Freedman, Benjamin. “What really makes Professional Morality Different: A Response to Martin.” Ethics 91.4 (1981): 626–30. Freyd, Jennifer J. “Betrayal Trauma: Traumatic Amnesia as an Adaptive Response to Childhood Abuse.” Ethics and Behaviour 4.4 (1994): 307–29. Freyd, Jennifer J., Anne P. DePrince, and Eileen L. Zurbriggen. “Self-Reported Memory for Abuse depends upon Victim-Perpetrator Relationship.” Journal of Trauma and Dissociation 2.3 (2001): 5–15. Frye, Northrop. Anatomy of Criticism. New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2015. Gallego, Méndez, and María Teresa. Mujer, falange y franquismo. Madrid: Taurus, 1983. Garland-Thomson, Rosemarie. Extraordinary Bodies. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1997. Gilman, Sander L. Disease and Representation: Images of Illness from Madness to AIDS. Cornell University Press, New York. 2019. Gracia García, Jordi, and Miguel Ángel Ruiz Carnicer. La Espaa de Franco (1939– 1975). Cultura y vida cotidiana. Madrid: Síntesis, 2001. Graham, Helen. “Gender and the State: Women in the 1940s.” Spanish Cultural Studies: An Introduction. Eds. Helen Graham and Jo Labanyi. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1995. 182–95. Grandes, Almudena. “Memoria y Libertad.” 19 May 2009. http://www.elpais.com /elpaismedia/ultimahora/media/200905/18/sociedad/20090518elpepusoc_2_Pes _PDF.pdf . Accessed 14 May 2015. Grandes, Almudena. “Entrevista con Almudena Grandes.” El País, 21 February 2002. https://elpais.com/cultura/2002/02/21/actualidad/1014309000_10143 09303.html . Accessed 15 February 2016. Grandes, Almudena. “Entrevista con Almudena Grandes.” El País, 8 March 2012. https://elpais.com/cultura/2012/03/08/actualidad/1331226000_1331234877 .html. Accessed 15 February 2016. Grandes, Almudena and Gaspar Llamazares. Al rojo vivo: un diálogo sobre la izquierda de hoy. Madrid: Antonio Machado Libros, 2008. Greene, Gayle. “Feminist Fiction and the Uses of Memory.” Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 16.2 (1991): 290–321. Greene, Joshua, and Jonathan Haidt. “How (and where) does Moral Judgment Work?” Trends in Cognitive Sciences 6.12 (2002): 517–23. Goffman, Erving. Asylums. New York: Simon and Schuster, 2007. Goffman, Erving. Stigma: Notes on the Management of Spoiled Identity. New York: Simon and Schuster, 2009. Gmez Lpez-Quiones, Antonio. La guerra persistente: memoria, violencia y utopía: representaciones contemporáneas de la Guerra Civil Espaola. Madrid: Iberoamericana Vervuert, 2006. González-Allende, Iker. Hombres en movimiento: masculinidades espaolas en los exilios y emigraciones, 1939–1999. West Lafayette: Purdue University Press, 2018. Select Bibliography 25 González Calleja, Eduardo, Francisco Cobo Romero, Ana Martínez Rus, Francisco Sánchez Pérez. La segunda repblica espaola. Madrid: Pasado y Presente, 2015. Gorman-Murray, Andrew. “Queering the Family Home: Narratives from Gay, Lesbian and Bisexual Youth Coming Out in Supportive Family Homes in Australia.” Gender, Place and Culture 15.1 (2008): 31–44. Hagelin, Sarah. Reel Vulnerability: Power, Pain, and Gender in Contemporary American Film and Television. New Jersey: Rutgers University Press, 2013. Halberstam, Judith. Female Masculinity. North Carolina: Duke UP, 1998. Hall, Stuart. Critical Dialogues in Cultural Studies. London: Routledge, 1996. Hart, H.LA. Punishment and Responsibility: Essays in the Philosophy of Law. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008. Hartson, Mary T. Casting Masculinity in Spanish Film: Negotiating Identity in a Consumer Age. Boston: Lexington Books, 2017. Harvey, David. A Brief History of Neoliberalism. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. Heller, Dana A. The Feminization of Quest-Romance: Radical Departures. Houston: University of Texas Press, 1990. Heneghan, Dorota. Striking their Modern Pose: Fashion, Gender, and Modernity in Galds, Pardo Bazán, and Picn. West Lafeyette: Purdue University Press, 2015. Hennessy, Rosemary. “Class.” A Concise Companion to Feminist Theory. Ed. Mary Eagleton. Oxford: Blackwell, 2003. 53–73. Henseler, Christine. Contemporary Spanish Women’s Narrative and the Publishing Industry. Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2003. Herman, Judith L. Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence--From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. London: Hachette UK, 2015. Herrera, Elena. “La tijera del gobierno se ensaa con la memoria histrica.” Pblico, 14 April, 2012. https://www.publico.es/espana/tijera-del-gobierno-ensana-mem oria.html . Accessed 19 November 2016. Herrmann, Gina. Written in Red: The Communist Memoir in Spain. Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2010. Hines-Brooks, Shelly. “Una mirada a la transmisin familiar de la posmemoria en El corazn helado.” Hispanfla 173.1 (2015): 201–15. Hirsch, Marianne. The Mother/Daughter Plot: Narrative, Psychoanalysis, Feminism. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1989. Hirsch, Marianne. The Generation of Postmemory: Writing and Visual Culture after the Holocaust. New York: Columbia UP, 2012. Hoffman, Eva. After Such Knowledge: Memory, History, And the Legacy of the Holocaust. New York: Public Affairs, 2005. Holm, Soren. “Not just Autonomy—The Principles of American Biomedical Ethics.” Journal of Medical Ethics 21.6 (1995): 332–38. hooks, bell. The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love. New York: Washington Square Press, 2004. Hooper, John. The New Spaniards. London: Penguin, 2011. Hudson-Richards, Julia. ““Women Want to Work”: Shifting Ideologies of Women’s Work in Franco’s Spain, 1939–1962.” Journal of Women’s History 27.2 (2015): 87–109. Humphrey, Michael, and Estela Valverde. “Human Rights, Victimhood, and Impunity: An Anthropology of Democracy in Argentina.” Social Analysis 51.1 (2007): 179–97. 26 Select Bibliography Iglesias de Ussel, Julio, and Pau Marí Klose. “La familia espaola en el siglo XXI: Los retos del cambio social.” Familias: Historia de la sociedad espaola. Eds. Joan Bestard and Francisco Chacn. Madrid: Cátedra, 2011. 1001–23. Irujo, José María. La lista negra: los espías nazis protegidos por Franco y la Iglesia. Madrid: Aguilar, 2012. James, Allison, and Alan Prout. Constructing and Reconstructing Childhood: Contemporary Issues in the Sociological Study of Childhood. London: Routledge, 2003. Janeway, Elizabeth. Man's World. Women's Place, New York, Delta, 1971. Jolly, Rachel. Robert Louis Stevenson in the Pacifc: Travel, Empire, and the Author’s Profession. Sussex: Ashgate Publishing, 2009. Jordanova, Ludmilla J. Sexual Visions: Images of Gender in Science and Medicine Between the Eighteenth and Twentieth Centuries. Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin Press, 1993. Kaminski, Marek M., Monika Nalepa, and Barry O’Neill. “Normative and Strategic Aspects of Transitional Justice.” Journal of Confict Resolution 50.3 (2006): 295–302. Keen, Suzanne. Empathy and the Novel. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. Kennedy, Paul. “Phoenix from the Ashes. The PSOE Government under Rodríguez Zapatero 2004-2007: A New Model for Social Democracy?” International Journal of Iberian Studies 20.3 (2007): 187–206. Kershaw, Ian. Hitler: A biography. New York: WW Norton & Company, 2010. Ketz, Victoria. L. “Breaking the Silence: Narrative Strategies to Recuperate Historical Memory in El lector de Julio Verne.” (Re)collecting the Past: Historical Memory in Spanish Literature and Culture. Eds. Jacky Collins, Melissa A. Stewart, Maureen Tobin Stanley and Nancy Vosburg. Newcastle-upon-Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2016. 17–38. Khazan, Olga. “The Country that’s most Accepting of Homosexuality? Spain.” The Atlantic, June 4, 2013. https://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2013/ 06/the-country-thats-most-accepting-of-homosexuality-spain/276547/ . Accessed 13 April 2015. Kimmel, Michael. Manhood in America. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2006. Kirschenbaum, Lisa A. “Exile, Gender, and Communist Self-Fashioning: Dolores Ibárruri (La Pasionaria) in the Soviet Union.” Slavic Review 71.3 (2012): 566–89. Kristeva, Julia. El poder del horror. Un ensayo sobre la abyeccin. Barcelona: Editorial Anagrama, Barcelona, 1990. Kuhn, Annette. Family Secrets: Acts of Memory and Imagination. Verso, London. 2002. Labanyi, Jo. “Memory and Modernity in Democratic Spain: The Difficulty of Coming to Terms with The Spanish Civil War.” Poetics Today 28.1 (2007): 89–116. Laberinto del fauno. Dir. Guillermo del Toro, 2006. Warner, 2007. DVD. Landsberg, Alison. Prosthetic Memory: The Transformation of American Remembrance in The Age of Mass Culture. Columbia University Press, New York. 2004. Larson, Susan. Constructing and Resisting Modernity: Madrid 1900–1936. Frankfurt: Iberoamericana, 2011. Laub, Dori, and Shoshana Felman. Testimony: Crises of Witnessing in Literature, Psychoanalysis, and History. New York and London: Routledge, 1992. Laver, James. Breve historia del traje y la moda. Madrid: Cátedra, 1988. Select Bibliography 27 Leggott, Sarah. Memory, War, and Dictatorship in Recent Spanish Fiction by Women. Lewisburg: Bucknell University Press, 2015. Levi, Primo. The Drowned and the Saved. New York: Simon and Schuster, 2017. Lévi-Strauss, Claude. El pensamiento salvaje. México: Fondo de Cultura Econmica, 1964. Leydesdorff, Selma, Luisa Passerini, and Paul Richard Thompson, eds. Gender and Memory. New York: Transaction Publishers, 2007. Lipovetsky. Los tiempos hiper-modernos. Trans. Antonio Prometeo Moya. Barcelona: Anagrama, 2006. Lpez, Tiffany Ana. “Reading Trauma and Violence in US Latina/O Children’s Literature.” Ethnic Literary Traditions in American Children’s Literature. Eds. Yvonne Atkinson and Michelle Pagni Stewart. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009. 205–26. Mac an Ghaill, Mairtin, and Christian Haywood. Gender, Culture, and Society: Contemporary Femininities and Masculinities. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007. MacIntyre, Alasdair C. Dependent Rational Animals: Why Human Beings need the Virtues. London: Open Court Publishing, 1999. Maddrell, Paul. Spying on Science: Western Intelligence in Divided Germany 1945– 1961. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006. Maertens, J. W. “Between Jules Verne and Walt Disney: Brains, Brawn, and Masculine Desire in 20,000 Leagues under the Sea.” Science Fiction Studies 20.1 (1995): 209–25. Marías, Javier. Corazn tan blanco. Madrid: Vintage Espaol, 2012. Martín Gaite, Carmen. Usos amorosos de la postguerra espaola. Barcelona: Anagrama, 2015. Martorell, Manuel. Jess Monzn: el líder comunista olvidado por la historia. Pamplona: Pamiela, 2000. MacNair, Rachel. Perpetration- Induced Traumatic Stress: The Psychological Consequences of Killing. New York: Praeger, 2002. Marzo, Irina. “Almudena Grandes ESCRITORA: Los padres de la transicin tienen que entender que 30 aos después ya no valga.” Diario de Crdoba, 23 April 2009. https://www.diariocordoba.com/noticias/cordobalocal/almudena-grandes -escritora-los-padres-transicion-tienen-entender-30-anos-despues-ya-no-valga_ 478053.html . Accessed 15 April 2017. McDonald, Emily, Dounaevskaia, Vera. and Todd C. Lee. “Inpatient Attire.” JAMA Internal Medicine 174.11 (2014): 1865–77. McLaren, Angus, and Todd McLaren. The Trials of Masculinity: Policing Sexual Boundaries, 1870-1930. University of Chicago Press, 1997. Merino, José María. El heredero. Madrid: Seix Barral, 2003. Merino, José María. La sima. Madrid: Seix Barral, 2009. Miner, Madonne. “Making Up the Stories as we Go Along: Men, Women, and Narratives of Disability.” The Body and Physical Difference: Discourses of Disability. Ed. David A. Mitchell. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1997. 283–95. Mintz, Sidney Wilfred. Sweetness and Power: The Place of Sugar in Modern History. London: Penguin, 1986. Mira, Alberto De Sodoma a Chueca: Una historia cultural de la homosexualidad en Espaa en el siglo XX. Madrid: Egales, 2004. 28 Select Bibliography Moa, Pío. Los mitos del franquismo. Madrid: La Esfera de los Libros, 2015. Moeller, Hans-Bernhard. “Introduction: Exile Literature and the Role of Comparative Literary Scholarship.” Latin America and the Literature of Exile: Comparative View of the 20th Century European Refugee Writers in the New World. Ed. Hans-Bernhard Moeller. Romanistische Abteilung, Heidelberg, 1983. 7–22. Mohammad, Robina. “The Cinderella Complex—Narrating Spanish Women’s History, The Home and Visions of Equality: Developing New Margins.” Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers 30.2 (2005): 248–61. Moller, Michael. “Exploiting Patterns: A Critique of Hegemonic Masculinity.” Journal of Gender Studies 16.3 (2007): 263–76. Moran, Dominique. Carceral Geography: Spaces and Practices of Incarceration. London: Routledge, 2016. Morán, Gregorio. Miseria y grandeza de PCE, 1939–1985. Barcelona: Planeta, 1986. Morcillo, Aurora G. True Catholic Womanhood: Gender Ideology in Franco’s Spain. Chicago: Northern Illinois University Press, 2000. Moreiras-Menor, Cristina. Cultura herida: Literatura y cine en la Espaa democrática. Madrid: Libertarias/Prodhufi, 2002. Moreno Gmez, Francisco. La resistencia armada contra Franco. Tragedia del maquis y la guerrilla. Madrid: Crítica, 2001. Mosse, George. Nationalism and Sexuality. Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin Press, 1985. Moszczyńska-Drst, Katarzyna. De las intimidades congeladas a los marcos de guerra: amor, identidad y transicin en las novelistas espaolas. Madrid: Editorial Padilla Libros, 2017. Muoz, José Esteban. Cruising Utopia: The Then and There of Queer Futurity. New York: NYU Press, 2019. Muoz Molina, Antonio. Beatus Ille. Madrid: Planeta, 2002. Murakami, Huraki. Tokio Blues/Norwegian Wood. Trans. L. Porta Fuentes. Barcelona: Tusquets Editores, 2007. Nash, Mary. Rojas: las mujeres republicanas en la guerra civil. Barcelona: Anagrama. 1992. Nash, Mary. “Pronatalismo y maternidad en la Espaa franquista.” Maternidad y políticas de género: la mujer en los estados de bienestar europeos, 1880–1950. Eds. Gisela Bock and Pat Thane. Madrid: Cátedra, 1987. 279–307. Navarro, Julia. Dime quién soy. Vintage Espaol, Madrid. 2012. Nelkin, Dorothy. “The Nazi Doctors and the Nuremberg Code: Human Rights in Human Experimentation.” Journal of the American Medical Association 269.9 (1993): 1168–69. Nieto, Antolín. Las guerrillas antifranquistas, 1936–1965. Madrid: Ediciones JC, 2007. Nolan, Rachel. “Judge Looking into Fate of Franco’s Victims”, Der Spiegel Online. Available at: http://www.spiegel.de/international/europe/01518druck-576051 OO.html [Accessed 5 December 2019]. Novick, Peter. The Holocaust and Collective Memory: The American Experience. New York: Bloomsbury, 2000. Nussbaum, Marta. Frontiers of Justice. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2006. Nussbaum, Marta. Sex and Social Justice. New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press. 1999. Select Bibliography 29 Ortiz, María Paulina. “La gloria y miseria de este oficio es la soledad: Almudena Grandes.” 11 September 2012. http://www.eltiempo.com/archivo/documento/ CMS-12210325 . Accessed 15 April 2016. Ortner, Sherry B. “Is Female to Male as Nature is to Culture?” Feminist Studies 1.2 (1972): 5–31. Pa negre. 2010. Dir. Agustí Villaronga. Cameo Medio, 2011. DVD. Pacios, Jaime. “Almudena Grandes nos habla de El lector de Julio Verne.” Travelarte .com. http://cultura.travelarte.com/libros/2986-almudena-grandes-nos-habla-de -el-lector-de-julio-verne . Accessed 15 April 2016. Parsons, Deborah L. A Cultural History of Madrid: Modernism and the Urban spectacle. London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2003. Pavlović, Tatjana. The Mobile Nation: Espaa cambia de piel (1954–1964). Bristol: Intellect Books, 2011. Pease, Bob. “Beyond the Father Wound: Memory-Work and the Deconstruction of the Father–Son Relationship.” Australian and New Zealand Journal of Family Therapy 21.1 (2000): 9–15. Phibbs, Alison. The Politics of the Body: Gender in a Neoliberal and Neoconservative World. London: Polity, 2014. Phillips, Angela. The Trouble with Boys. London: Pandora, 1993. Pigna, Felipe. “Almudena Grandes.” https://www.elhistoriador.com.ar/almudena -grandes-por-felipe-pigna/ . Accessed 15 November 2019. Poal Marcet, Gloria. Entrar, quedarse, avanzar: aspectos psicosociales de la relacin mujer-mundo laboral. Madrid: Siglo Veintiuno Editores, 1993. Pollini, Yemina. “Escribir es atravesar un espejo.” CELEHIS- Revista del Centro de Letras Hispanoamericanas 11.14 (2002): 347–62. Pons Prades, Eduardo. Las guerras de los nios republicanos, 1936–1995. Madrid: Compaía literaria, 1997. Poore, Carol. Disability in Twentieth-Century German Culture. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2010. Preston, Paul. “Resisting the State: The Urban and Rural Guerrilla of the 1940s.” Spanish Cultural Studies: An Introduction. Eds. Helen Graham and Jo Labanyi. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995. 229–39. Preston, Paul. The Spanish Holocaust: Inquisition and Extermination in Twentieth- Century Spain. New York: WW Norton and Company, 2012. Price, Maggi, Charmaine Higa-McMillan, Sunyoung Kim, B Christopher Frueh. “Trauma Experience in Children and Adolescents: An Assessment of the Effects of Trauma Type and Role of Interpersonal Proximity.” Journal of Anxiety Disorders 27.7 (2013): 652–60. Probyn, Elspeth. “Suspended Beginnings: Of Childhood and Nostalgia.” GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies 2.4 (1995): 439–65. Pullen, Kirsten. Actresses and Whores: On Stage and in Society. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. Rams, Victoria A. “Almudena Grandes: Esta democracia tiene una deuda profunda con los luchadores del pasado.” XL Semanal, 19 October 2019. https://www .zendalibros.com/almudena-grandes-esta-democracia-tiene-una-deuda-profunda -con-los-luchadores-del-pasado/ . Accessed 7 October 2020. Raymond, Janice G. A Passion for Friends: Toward a Philosophy of Female Affection. New York: Spinifex Press, 2002. Renshaw, Layla. Exhuming Loss: Memory, Materiality and Mass Graves of the Spanish Civil War. California: Left Coast Press, 2013. 30 Select Bibliography Riao, R. “Joaquín Leguina: “Almudena Grandes escribe novelas maniqueas de la Guerra Civil.” El espaol, 6 December 2017. https://www.elespanol.com/cultura /libros/20170905/244476466_0.html . Accessed 7 October 2019. Rich, Adrienne. Of Woman Born: Motherhood as Institution and Experience. London: Virago, 1977. Richards, Michael. A Time of Silence: Civil War and the Culture of Repression in Franco’s Spain, 1936–1945. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. Richardson, Nathan. ““No pensar”, or does the Contemporary Spanish Novel of Memory really want to Know?: Tiempo de silencio, Corazn tan blanco, Soldados de Salamina and Beyond.” Letras Hispanas 7.1 (2010): 2–16. Ricoeur, Paul. Memory, History, Forgetting. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004. Rieff, David. Against Remembrance. Melbourne: University of Melbourne Press, 2011. Rigney, Ann. “Plenitude, Scarcity and the Circulation of Cultural Memory.” Journal of European Studies 35.1 (2005): 11–28. Rivas, Manuel. A cuerpo abierto. Madrid: Editorial Alfaguara, 2008. Roigé, Xavier, and Teresa M. Sala. “Visiones y representaciones de la familia (1889– 1970).” Familias: Historia de la sociedad Espaola (del fnal de la Edad Media a nuestros días). Eds. Francisco Chacn and Joan Bestard. Madrid: Cátedra, 2011. 809–50. Roldán, D. and A Soto. “Ser enemigo de la memoria es una cosa muy espaola.” Las Provincias. 24 October 2018. https://www.lasprovincias.es/culturas/libros/enemi go-memoria-espanola-20181024003126-ntvo.html?ref=https%3A%2F%2Fww w.google.com%2F . Accessed 12 February 2019. Romero, Ana. Historia de Carmen: memorias de Carmen Díez de Rivera. Madrid: Planeta, 2002. Rothberg, Michael. Multidirectional Memory: Remembering the Holocaust in the Age of Decolonization. California: Stanford University Press, 2009. Rothberg, Michael. The Implicated Subject: Beyond Victims and Perpetrators. California: Stanford University Press, 2019. Rottenberg, Catherine. “The Rise of Neoliberal Feminism.” Cultural Studies 28.3 (2014): 418–37. Rueda Acedo, Alicia. ““Pagando los platos de la Guerra Civil”: dinámicas histricas e interpersonales en tres novelas de Almudena Grandes.” Anales de la literatura espaola contemporánea 34.1 (2009): 249–74. Ruiz Bautista, Eduardo. “En pos del “buen lector”: censura editorial y clases populares durante el primer franquismo (1939–1945).” Historia contemporánea 16.1 (2011): 231–52. Rus, Ana Martínez, and Jess Antonio Martínez Martín. La política del libro durante la Segunda Repblica: socializacin de la lectura. Madrid: Trea, 2003. Ryan, Lorraine. “A Case Apart: The Evolution of Spanish Feminism.” Feminisms Within and Without. Ed. Rebecca Pelan. Galway: University of Galway Women’s Centre. 2005. 56–68. Ryan, Lorraine. “The Sins of the Father: The Destruction of the Republican Family in Franco’s Spain.” The History of the Family 14.3 (2009): 245–52. Ryan, Richard M., and Edward L. Deci. “To be Happy or to Be Self-Fulfilled: A Review of Research On Hedonic And Eudaimonic Well-Being.” Annual review of psychology 52.16 (2001): 141–166. Select Bibliography 31 Sabsay, Leticia. “Permeable Bodies: Vulnerability, Affective Powers, Hegemony.” Vulnerability in Resistance. Eds. Judith Butler, Zeynep Gambetti and Leticia Sabsay. North Carolina: Duke University Press, 2016. 278–302. Said, Edward W. The Edward Said Reader. London: Granta Books, 2001. Sainz Borgo, Karina. “Almudena Grandes: No hay héroes republicanos, slo víctimas o verdugos.” Voz Populi, 17 September 2017. https://www.vozpopuli.com/alta voz/cultura/Almudena-Grandes-republicana-Guerra-Civil_0_1063393662.html. Accessed 10 September 2019. Sánchez, Francisco J. “Historical Memory in Post-Transition Narratives: Between the Canon and the Market.” Memory and its Discontents: Spanish Culture in the Early Twenty-First Century (Hispanic Issues on-line Vol. 11). Eds. Luis Martín Estudillo and Nicholas Spadaccini, 2013. 178–95. Sánchez-Redondo, Carlos. Leer en la escuela durante el franquismo. Cuenca: Ediciones Universidad Castilla-La Mancha, 2004. Sandel, Michael J. “What Money Can’t Buy: The Moral Limits of Markets.” Tanner Lectures on Human Values 21 (2000): 87–122. Santabárbara Alberto A. La historia que nos ensearon (1937–1975). Madrid: Ediciones AKAL, 2003. Sarap, Madan. Identity, Culture and the Postmodern World. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1996. Scharff, Christina. Repudiating Feminism: Young Women in a Neoliberal World. London: Routledge, 2016. Schwartz, Barry. “Memory as a Cultural System: Abraham Lincoln in World War II.” American Sociological Review 61.6 (1996): 908–27. Seaton, Peter. Japan’s Contested War Memories: The Memory Rifts in Historical Consciousness of World War II. London: Routledge, 2007. Sevillano Calero, Francisco. Ecos de papel. La opinin de los espaoles en la época de Franco. Madrid: Biblioteca Nueva, 2000. Sherman Jr, Alvin F. “Food, War and National Identity in Almudena Grandes’ Inés y la alegría.” Bulletin of Spanish Studies 93.2 (2016): 255–74. Shilling, Christopher. The Body and Difference. Identity and Difference. Ed. Kathleen Woodward. London: Sage, 79–95. Shubert, Adrián. A Social History of Modern Spain. London: Routledge, 2003. Siguenza, Carmen. “Almudena Grandes: “La verdad de este país es muy miserable.” El Pblico, 5 March 2014. https://www.publico.es/culturas/almudena-grandes-e ste-pais-miserable.html . Accessed 6 February 2015. Silverman, Kaja. The Threshold of the Visible World. Psychology Press, Boston. 1996. Simmel, Georg. “Fashion.” The American Journal of Sociology 62.2 (1957): 541–58. Simmons, Alison. “Re-humanizing Descartes.” Philosophic Exchange 41.1 (2011): 2–17. Sindbæk Andersen, Tea and Jessica Ortner. “Introduction: Memories of Joy.” Memory Studies 12.1 (2019): 1–5. Singleton, Andrew, and Jane Maree Maher. “The New Man is in the House: Young Men, Social Change, and Housework.” The Journal of Men’s Studies 12.3 (2004): 227–40. Solnit, Rebecca. Wanderlust: A History of Walking. London: Penguin, 2001. Sontag, Susan. Illness as Metaphor and AIDS and its Metaphors. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2001. 32 Select Bibliography Soo, Scott. The Routes to Exile: France and the Spanish Civil War Refugees, 1939– 2009. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2016. Spitzer, Leo. “Rootless Nostalgia: Vienna in La Paz, La Paz in Elsewhere.” Shofar: An Interdisciplinary Journal of Jewish Studies 19.3 (2001): 6–17. Stafford, Katherine. “Remembering the Perpetrators: Nationalist Postmemory and Andrés Trapiello’s Ayer no más.” Dissidences 5.9 (2014): 1–18. https://digital commons.bowdoin.edu/dissidences/vol5/iss9/13/ . Accessed 9 November 2017. Steedman, Carolyn. Landscape for A Good Woman: A Story of Two Lives. New Jersey: Rutgers University Press, 1987. Tabori, Paul. The Anatomy of Exile. London: Harr, 1972. Torres, Rafael. El amor en la segunda repblica. Madrid: Temas de Hoy, 1986. Trapiello, Andrés. Ayer no más. Barcelona: Destino, 2012. Tremlett, Giles. Ghosts of Spain. London: Penguin, 2005. Tusquets, Esther. Habíamos ganado la guerra. Barcelona: Brugera, 2007. Ugarte, Michael. “The Literature of Francoist Spain, 1939–1975.” The Cambridge History of Spanish Literature. Ed. David T. Gies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. 611–20. Print. Valis, Noel. The Culture of Cursilería: Bad Taste, Kitsch, and Class in Modern Spain. North Carolina: Duke U. P., 2002. Van Alphen, Ernst. “Symptoms of Discursivity: Experience, Memory, and Trauma.” Acts of Memory: Cultural Recall in the Present. Eds. Mieke Bal, Jonathan Crewe, and Leo Spitzer. Hanover and London: University Press of New England, 1999. 24–38. Veblen, Thorstein. The Theory of the Leisure Class: An Economic Study of Institutions. London: Macmillan, 1899. Vega Sombría, Santiago. De la esperanza a la persecucin: la represin franquista en la provincia de Segovia. Madrid: Grupo Planeta, 2005. Venkatesh, Vinodh. The Body as Capital: Masculinities in Contemporary Latin American Fiction. Arizona: University of Arizona Press, 2015. Vernon, Kathleen. “Women, Fashion and the Spanish Civil War: From the Fashion Parade to the Victory Parade.” The New Woman International: Representations in Photography and Film from the 1870s through the 1960s. Eds. Elizabeth Otto and Vanessa Rocco. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2011. 273–90. Villa, Lucía. “Quarrelling with the Father.” Robert Louis Stevenson: Writer of Boundaries. Eds. Robert Ambrosini and Rachel Dury. Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin Press, 2004. 109–21. Villacastín, Rosa. “Carlos Iglesias: Hace 20 aos me habría planteado irme a Hollywood”. Diez Minutos, 52:1 (2002): 24–28. Vincent, Mary. “La reafirmacin de la masculinidad en la cruzada franquista.” Cuadernos de historia contemporánea 28 (2006): 135–51. Vinyes, Ricard. Irredentas: Las presas políticas y sus hijos en las cárceles franquistas. Madrid: Temas de hoy, 2010. Wedgewood, Nikki. “Connell’s Theory of Masculinity–its Origins and Influences on the Study of Gender.” Journal of Gender Studies 18.4 (2009): 329–39. Whitehead, Stephen. Men and Masculinities. Oxford: Polity Press, 2002. Williams, Raymond. “Base and Superstructure in Marxist Cultural Theory.” Rethinking Popular Culture: Contemporary Perspectives in Cultural Studies. Eds. Catherine Mukerji and Michael Schudson. California: University of California Press, 1991. 407–23. Select Bibliography 33 Willis, Andre C. Faith of Our Fathers: African-American Men Refect on Fatherhood. New York: Plume, 1997. Wohllebhn, Peter. The Hidden Life of Trees: What they Feel, How they Communicate—Discoveries From a Secret World. London: Greystone Books, 2016. Wood, Gareth. “El corazn helado de Almudena Grandes y los hipertextos.” Almudena Grandes: Grand Séminaire de Neuchâtel, Coloquio internacional Almudena Grandes, 1–2 de junio de 2010. Eds. Andres-Suárez, Irene, and Antonio Rivas. Madrid: Arco Books, 2012. 185–96. Wright, Sarah. “Gregorio Maran and the Cult of Sex: Effeminacy and Intersexuality in The Psychopathology of Don Juan.” Bulletin of Spanish Studies 81.6 (2004): 717–38. Wright, Stephanie. “Los mutilados de Franco: el Benemérito Cuerpo y la política social en la Espaa franquista.” Revista Universitaria de Historia Militar 5.9 (2016): 75–92. http://ruhm.es/index.php/RUHM/article/view/156 . Accessed 17 October 2018. Yusta Rodrigo, Mercedes. “Género e identidad política femenina en el exilio: Mujeres antifascistas espaolas (1946–1950).” Pasado y Presente 8 (2008): 143–63. Zamostny, Jeffrey. “Trtola Valencia and Antonio de Hoyos y Vinent: Celebrity and Self-Plagiarism.” MLN 133.2 (2018): 297–317. Zaner, Richard M. Ethics and the Clinical Encounter. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1988. Zemon Davis, Natalie. “Women’s History in Transition: The European Case.” Feminist Studies 3.3–4 (1976): 83–103. Zubiaurre, Maite. “Culinary Eros in Contemporary Hispanic Female Fiction: from Kitchen Tales to Table Narratives.” College Literature 33:3 (2006): 29–51. Zubíaurre, Maíte. Cultures of the Erotic in Spain, 1898–1939. Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 2012.