The novel Sin rumbo (1885), by the Argentinean
Eugenio Cambaceres, has been seen almost unequivocally as the
clearest example of Spanish American Naturalism, especially — it
has been said — because of its direct adherence to Emile Zola"s
prescription for what he called the Experimental Novel. Such a
direct association with biological determinism and environmental
influences, has led critics to say that Cambaceres"s novel,
expressing unmediated ideas of its author, is a documentary
narrative of the conflictive social conditions of the Argentina
of his times, especially those of a ruling
class[2]A prime example of this would be the
novel"s protagonist, Andrés, whose anguished life is seen
as an example of the decadent existence led by a rich and
powerful oligarchy.
One important critic states that the novel"s hypothesis,
which is confirmed at the end with the protagonist's suicide,
shows how a "biologically strong human being, affected physically
and morally by a dissolute life [is . . .] unavoidably condemned
to failure"[3]. Such interpretations might indeed
foreground a not so erroneous sociological understanding of
Argentinean society, but what caught my eye in this novel follows
a very different path. As I hope to show, an important yet
misunderstood component in the novel Sin rumbo, bears
heavily on some ideas put forth by Germany"s 19th century
philosopher, Arthur Schopenhauer, whose name is mentioned several
times as being a favorite author of the novel"s protagonist. The
work, however, is not clear-cut in this respect and, I believe,
plays with its readers by testing them on their knowledge of the
German philosopher"s ideas. Let us, then, move forward and see if
I can be convincing with respect to my particular reading of this
novel.
We should begin with a brief reference to a
contradiction that has polarized literary critics. Because of the
novel"s references to Schopenhauer, some have concluded that it
ultimately proposes a nihilistic view of life, as expressed by
its narrator and its protagonist"s
behavior[4]Others, however, state the opposite,
that the novel denounces a pessimistic view of existence, and
that its aim is to force Buenos Aires's aristocracy to take a
close look at itself and learn from its
mistakes[5]Such contradictory positions seem to
result from an attempt at identifying what traditionally has been
called the "author's intent".
For years now, Narratology, in order to discern what may
be called the "ideology" of a novel, has taught us to separate
the words or ideas expressed by a character from those of its
narrator. As we shall see, it is precisely through a complex and
interesting discursive dialogue between character, narrator, and
reader that one can find a key to unlock a better understanding
of this novel. Gerard Genette has shown that studies on the so
called "point of view" have confused two issues which, although
closely related, are quite different. Briefly, these are "who
sees" versus "who speaks" in a novel. Both may stem from the same
narrative agent or person, but one must also recognize that
someone can narrate what someone else sees or perceives. Speaking
and seeing may come from the same agent, but they can also come
from different ones. If one loses track of this difference it is
possible to fall into an erroneous reading of the ideological
sense of a novel. The one speaking, the agent to whom the words
being narrated belong, is the narrator, and the one who sees or
perceives what is narrated is a focalizer. It is possible —
especially in 19th century novels — that the narrator may
simultaneously be the focalizer, in which case he is called a
focalizing narrator [6]
In Sin rumbo this traditional narrative format
is common. The novel begins with a description by an outside
narrator who is able to both see and speak about what is taking
place:
In two piles, the animals made their way towards a table
full of wool, which several men were tying together [. . .]. The
bundles [. . .] placed on a great leather scale hanging from the
ceiling were later thrown to the end of the barn and there they
were piled up in such a way that made them look like a kilt of
ice from a thawing mountain[7]
This external focalization should be differentiated from
other narrative occasions in which, although the words in the
text belong to the narrator, the focalization (or observation)
belongs to the protagonist, Andrés. For example, when he
goes to the house of one of his workers, whose daughter, Donata,
he intends to seduce, one can detect a shift from the narrator"s
view from the narrator"s view (as focalizer) to that of the
visual observation by the character. The expression "to sneak a
quick look" introduces the narrative shift: "muffling the sound
of his steps, he walked toward the hall connecting the two rooms
[. . .] and there, through a crack he sneaked a quick
look"[8]. Immediately we read the following
description of Donata: "the almond shaped oval of her black and
passionate eyes [. . .] the lines of her small and gracious nose,
the coarse but provocative and lascivious shape of her mouth
biting nervously her lower lip"[9]. The sight, not
quite flattering of the country girl, does not correspond to an
opinion on the part of the author or the narrator. Rather, it is
a focalization by the character Andrés that underscores
his sexual whim. Such focalizations have led some critics to
assert that "Cambaceres shows us the story through
Andrés's eyes, or from his point of view, although it may
not be told by him as narrator"[10]. All "points
of view," however, do not belong to Andrés: there is a
narrative voice that conflicts with the ideas and words of the
protagonist.[11]
Throughout the novel the narrator will show
Andrés immersed in long meditations that echo
Schopenhauer"s pessimism, a philosopher whom he calls his
favorite master; and it has been argued repeatedly that it is
Andrés"s readings conflated with an adverse fate that lead
him to commit suicide. We should wonder, however, if the novel"s
ideology corresponds to the protagonist"s ideas, or, for that
matter if they coincide with those of the narrator. That
Andrés"s pessimism may be partly a result of his reading
of Schopenhauer is clear. In one of many internal focalizations
(in other words, when the narrator-focalizer is allowed to
penetrate the thoughts of the character)[12] we
note that Andrés"s reflections echo those of
Schopenhauer"s so-called misogyny, especially with regard to his
treatise "On Women". We read that Andrés "was thinking of
the sad condition of women marked at birth by fatality, weak of
spirit and body, inferior to man in the hierarchy of humanity,
dominated by him, relegated by the essence of her own nature to a
second place of existence".[13] These are ideas
that correspond to some of Schopenhauer's:
the sight of the female tells us that woman is not
destined for great work either intellectual or physical. She
bears the guilt of life not by doing but by suffering; she pays
the debt by the pains of childbirth, care for the child,
submissiveness to the husband, to whom she should be a patient
and cheerful companion[14]
Such are the thoughts of the protagonist, but what about
the narrator? The external narrative voice, or narrator, whom we
have already seen, seems to share Andrés"s readings of
Schopenhauer. We can see this when, for example, he explains
Donata"s falling in love: "in those early hours of life in which
the false prism of illusions circles a woman's
aura"[15], or when interpreting the passion of
Amorini, Andrés"s next lover: "trapped by one of those
sudden, intense feelings that can be explained by woman's
unreserved true nature"[16], or when speaking of
his aunt, "who has that rare common sense that women have toward
the simple things of life"[17]. It would seem,
then, that in these cases the narrator and the protagonist share
certain beliefs based on Schopenhauer. They are both readers of
his philosophy, but they should not be confused. Significantly,
in other occasions the same narrator seems to subvert his
adherence to Schopenhauer by condemning his possible negative
effects. He says that Andrés
abandoned [. . .] to his dark pessimism, his soul
undermined by the force of the great destroyers of humanity,
sunken in the glacial and terrible "nothingness" of new doctrines
welcomed by him by his experiences [. . .] would slowly move his
life toward solitude and isolation[18]
The narrator also judges negatively Andrés"s
self-destructive feelings: "the idea of suicide, as a door that
opens suddenly amidst the darkness, alluring, tempting, for the
first time crossed his sick mind"[19]. How do we
explain this apparent contradiction, or vacillation, on the part
of the narrator toward Schopenhauer"s philosophy? Are we dealing
with two conflicting positions on the part of the narrator, one
in favor and the other against Schopenhauer? Are there two
narrators? Or is this, as Mikhail Bakhtin would argue, an example
of the dialogic nature of the novel. In other words, the work, by
way of its narrative voice, would establish a dialogue with
regard to the controversial reception of the German philosopher"s
ideas, which could well explain the critical fluctuation between
a nihilistic and a reformist ideology attributed to the novel, as
I pointed out earlier.[20] This could be a valid
conclusion, but as I continue my interpretation of Sin
rumbo, we shall see that there is another possible way of
looking at it that brings into play the degree of understanding
of Schopenhauer's ideas needed by the novel"s reader.
In Chapter Three, the human and social
"alienation" of Andrés is emphasized. He spends days
"locked up within the walls of his house [. . .] not wanting to
see or speak to anyone"[21]. And he expresses his
angst and despair: "Ah, yes, exclaimed Andrés with a
gesture of profound discouragement, throwing away the butt of his
cigar, which was burning his lips — fucked up, miserably
fucked"! Then there is a descriptive pause in which we
read:
Night had arrived, warm, transparent. A thick fog began
to rise from the earth. The sky, filled by stars, seemed like an
immense cascade of cloth pouring onto the ground, and with its
fall lifting the dust of its water as if broken up into a myriad
of drops.
But immediately after we read the following:
Andrés, leaning against the balcony, looked out
for a moment:
— Ugh! — he made a sound crossing his arms behind his
neck and with a long and deep yawn–what the hell [. . .]
tomorrow I will go see that stupid country girl.
He turned on the light, got into bed and opened a
book.
Half an hour later he closed his eyes on these
words by Schopenhauer, his favorite master: "The tedium of one's
awareness of time is taken away by distraction; then, if life is
happier when it is least felt, the best thing would be to be rid
of it"[22].
These last words by Schopenhauer have been seen as a
"key" to explain the protagonist's inclination toward suicide,
but we should briefly return to the two passages of the novel
that take place before Andrés "closes his eyes" on
Schopenhauer's words. We witness there one of many descriptions
— or poetic contemplations — of nature that are found in the
novel; in this case the sky, that "filled by stars, seemed like
an immense cascade of cloth pouring onto the ground, and with its
fall lifting the dust of its water as if broken up into a myriad
of drops". We should ask ourselves who sees or perceives nature
poetically? Narratology allows us to arrive at an answer: it
happens to be a simultaneous or double focalization. In other
words, the two narrative entities — the narrator and the
character — are placed in the same location and look at the same
space. In the words of Mieke Bal, in these cases the narrator
looks over the character's shoulder[23]What is
important, however, is to ask whose is the lyrical or poetic
perception? It is obviously the narrator"s (or, if you wish, the
focalizing narrator), and not Andrés"s, since when he
leans against the balcony and looks at what has already been
described aesthetically, full of boredom and depression, he says
"ugh" and decides to pay the "stupid country girl" a visit — and
we know why. This "double focalization" allows us to perceive a
subtle and ironic complicity between the narrator and a reader
properly qualified: they both share a knowledge of Schopenhauer
that the novel, curiously, shies away from presenting explicitly.
The "hidden" detail, which the reader properly aware of
Schopenhauer"s ideas should have already guessed, lies in the
fact that if for the German philosopher all individual acts
respond to a subconscious instinct, or Will, that controls his
behavior, there are, according to him, two escape venues — even
though momentary. One of them is found in the suspension of
individuality by an immersion into nothingness — a negation of
the will to live, or of life, which he associates with the
Buddhist concept of Nirvana, which in turn allows the person to
return to an identification with the all. Another escape valve,
which is the one that concerns us, lies in man"s ability for
disinterested contemplation of the idea, an ability reserved only
to those who have a general artistic intuition; in other words,
those who are able to engage in a disinterested contemplation of
the beauty of nature and art[24]This concealed
fact in the novel allows us to discover in the forequoted passage
an important contrast between the narrator and his protagonist:
the first one exemplifies man's capacity for aesthetic
contemplation, while the second, Andrés, demonstrates his
artistic or contemplative incapacity. His immediate desire to go
see that "stupid country girl" underscores his submission to the
forces of his sexual instinct. What the reader discovers by way
of this contrast is that the protagonist has achieved only an
incomplete or truncated understanding of Schopenhauer's ideas,
his supposedly favorite mentor. Andrés lacks the necessary
contemplative and artistic capacity to transcend, albeit
temporarily, the Will[25]
The novel contains many more similar examples of such
double focalizations, which counterpoise the narrator and
Andrés. For example, in one page we read the
following:
Through the misty glass, Andrés looked at the
countryside. The field was a vast ocean, the overflowing lakes
came together; from the high point of the hill, whose top
unraveled the black tape of the road like an endless bridge, only
the towns, the farm hilltops, could be seen, as islands far in
the distance.
— Damned day; this is all I needed! — mumbled
Andrés speaking to himself, exasperated and angry at the
lost time brought about by the rain, as an obstacle placed in his
way toward fulfilling his desires[26]
Again there is a double focalization: both Andrés
and the narrator (or narrator-focalizer) look at the same space,
but their perceptions are different. For Andrés — in
opposition to the other's — the view is only an obstacle for his
self-interest.
Often, when Andrés looks out the window, he feels
"an unbearable annoyance, a hatred, a weariness toward that sight
contemplated over and over, thousands of
times"[27]. It is important to note, then, that
the narrator clearly and explicitly alludes to Andrés's
lack of contemplative capacity, as I have suggested, but let us
return momentarily to the already quoted passage from
Schopenhauer that the protagonist seems to be reading: "the
tedium of one's awareness of time is taken away by distraction;
then, if life is happier when it is least felt, the best thing
would be to be rid of it". Ironically, as the reader may have
already noticed, the narrator says that "half an hour later
Andrés closed his eyes" on those words by
Schopenhauer. What has not been understood, then, is that the
lack of life-purpose and ultimate suicide by the protagonist does
not result from being influenced by Schopenhauer's pessimism, but
rather from a misreading of his philosophy. Schopenhauer, far
from advocating suicide, all along his works repeats that
self-destruction is a futile action against the Will since being
is only one of its phenomena. In his World and Will as
Idea, he is quite clear about this:
Suicide, the actual doing away with the individual
manifestation of the will, differs most widely from the denial of
the will to live, which is the single outstanding act of free
will [. . .] and is therefore [. . .] the transcendental change
[. . .]. As life is always assured to the will to live, and a
sorrow is inseparable from life, suicide, the willful destructor
of the single phenomenal existence, is a vain and foolish act;
for the thing-in-itself remains unaffected by
it[28]
As we have seen, the only means of escape are the
immersion into nothingness and artistic contemplation — both
outside of Andrés"s reach. The importance of this fact,
shared by the narrator and a properly qualified reader, which has
given us a better understanding of the novel, is made even more
explicit in some other passages that I will now briefly
mention.
Amorini"s enigmatic question upon arriving at
Andrés"s garçonniere of "why so beautiful
inside and so ugly outside"[29], something which
has been seen as an expression of the protagonist"s psychological
"split" personality, can now be understood in a new way. His
apartment is full of artistic pieces. For example, "towards the
middle of the room, a Carrara marble, a life-size Jupiter and
Leda. Here and there on top of onyx supports, other marble
pieces, obscene bronze Pompeii reproductions"[30].
What should be noted, then, is that the apparent meaning or
importance that Andrés gives to these objects is neither
"artistic" nor disinterested; rather, it is utilitarian, to
impress and seduce his women, to satisfy his sexual
instinct.
Also, one needs to recognize that the attraction that
our protagonists shows toward the opera — a favorite genre of
Schopenhauer — is not artistic, but rather a venue for his
sexual conquests. When an Italian company arrives in Buenos
Aires, Andrés attends its first rehearsal, apparently
showing great interest. The company's manager praises the singer
Amorini's talent: "stupendous organ [. . .] she has created
fanaticism, a mad fanaticism at the Scala". But Andrés's
reaction reveals his true interest: "stop with your fanaticisms
and get to the point: is she pretty?"[31]. Once
again, therefore, we see that aesthetic appreciation is relegated
to a secondary position in favor of the sexual
instinct[32]
If we now turn to the end of the novel, we shall see
even more clearly that the complicity between the narrator and a
reader properly aware of Schopenhauer's philosophy is an
important narrative strategy in this novel. Andrés's
spectacular and well-known suicide takes place after the death of
his infant daughter, Andrea, whom he thought, had brought meaning
to his life. Again the reader should note a certain irony: by
"identifying" himself with his daughter, Andrés is only
displacing the value of his existence toward something external,
something which for the German philosopher would be another blind
handing over to the Will. For Schopenhauer, in contrast with the
"genius"
the normal man [. . .] as regards the pleasures of life,
relies on things that are outside of him and thus as possessions,
rank, wife and children, friends, society, and so on: these are
the props of his life's happiness. It therefore collapses when he
loses such things or is disillusioned by them. We may express
this relation by saying that his center of gravity lies outside
him[33]
At another instance, Andrés's desire is explicit:
"an unconscious need emanated from the bottom of his soul, as an
all powerful desire [. . .] to be personified in someone, of
embodying into a strange and superior entity the source of all
the happiness he felt"[34] .
When turning to our protagonist"s final suicide — after
his daughter's death –, the narrator informs us that
Andrés had arrived at his decision "with the cold and
serene composure that inform great, supreme
resolutions"[35]. What we should note, however, is
that this "supreme resolution", that for most critics has been
seen as a last act of freedom, of life-affirming action, is again
one more example of the narrator's ironic
critiques[36]While Andrés is preparing
himself to commit suicide, his worker Contreras whom he had
mistreated at the beginning of the novel, carries out an act of
vengeance: he sets fire to his master"s house. Andrés,
after having opened his abdomen with a hunting knife, a weapon
which the narrator, significantly, describes as "a work of
art"[37], in a last expression of what he believes
to be a negation of being, screams: "fucking life, bitch, whore
[. . .] I will uproot you!" and immediately "he tears out his
bloody guts"[38]. Simultaneously, outside, his
workers are attempting to put out the fire, which will soon burn
his house to the ground. The novel's last irony, which revisits
the futility of Andrés's suicide is that no one will know
anything about his final action. His death will be seen as a
result of the fire brought about by the revengeful act of his
disgraced worker, an action selfishly "human" which, under these
conditions is no different than Andrés's own
suicide.[39] Notably, the last sentence of the
novel, by its narrator, is a detached and aesthetic description
of this supposed "tragedy": "the black smoke spiral, carried away
by the wind's breeze, extended through the sky like an immense
funeral shroud"[40]. In other words, the novel's
narration, like the Will, which according to Schopenhauer
controls the existence of all things, survives Andrés's
futile attempt at negation.
To conclude, we should underscore that the salient
meaning or "purpose" of the novel Sin rumbo
(Aimless) lies not in affirming or condemning a vital
pessimism which supposedly ailed a certain social sector of
Argentina in the 1880's, but rather in narrating a possible
understanding, or misunderstanding of life according to
Schopenhauer's ideas. In this novel Andrés is not a victim
either of the pessimism of his times or of his social standing,
but rather of his incapacity to comprehend and follow the
teachings of his "favorite mentor".
Autor:
Pedro Lasarte
[1] All quotes from the novel, whose title
may be translated as Aimless, are my translations from the
Spanish, as well as much of the critical commentaries,
sometimes paraphrased. My translated texts — other than the
novel’s — will always be identified as such.
[2] “Cambaceres’s main
preoccupation is that of the spiritual abandonment of a whole
generation lacking in goals, without superior principles, nor
true objectives in their lives”. Juan Epple,
“Eugenio Cambaceres y el naturalismo en la
Argentina”, Ideologies and Literature, 3, 1980, pp. 40,
43 (my translation).
[3] Epple, “Eugenio Cambaceres”,
pp. 40, 43 (my translation). And elsewhere, Epple explains:
“Sin rumbo is the story of a man who, having sufficient
biological strength [. . .] inteligence and material riches to
triumph in society, irremediably fails, ending his life with
suicide at the same time that his ‘hacienda’, his
family’s patrimony is being destroyed by fire. Since this
story is presented as a ‘study’, the
narrator’s purpose will be to explain the reasons behind
such a failure [. . .] the narrator begins the novel with a
detailed description of space and the character’s
disposition; he then follows the latter’s oscillating
process of disillusionment, seeing him under the incitements of
the city and the country, carrying the dark syndromes of a
deragend psyche, to finally offer, at the end, the horrible
spectacle of self-destruction”. Epple, “Eugenio
Cambaceres”, p. 91 (my translation).
[4] Anthony Castagnaro, for example, in
reference to Andrés’s characterization states:
“the stark verisimilitude of this characterization
undoubtedly stems, in part, from Cambaceres’s abandonment
of his former, formally separate role as narrator and from the
simultaneous incorporation of the deeper layers of his own
subconscious in the psychological evolution of Andrés,
who indeed is, in many respects, Cambaceres himself. His
previously mellowed biliousness is here developed and deepened
into a masochistically agonizing despair of such proportions as
to bring Cambaceres close — closer than any other Spanish
American novelist of the 19th century — to the spiritual
travail of contemporary man". Anthony Castagnaro, The Early
Spanish American Novel, New York: Las Americas Publishing Co.,
p. 124. Similarly, Isabel Santacatalina, in the prologue to her
edition, affirms that in the novel “society is presented
diminishedly and nothing seems to be able to improve it. The
author does not offer, therefore, programmatic ethical
projects; he only verifies the social upheaval that torments
him”. Eugenio Cambaceres, Sin rumbo, Isabel Santacatalina
(ed.), Buenos Aires: Editorial Huemul, S.A., 1966, p. 16 (my
translation).
[5] Epple, “Eugenio Cambaceres”,
p. 46. H.E. Guillén shares with Epple a preference
toward the reformist or didactic aspect of the novel. In
reference to its author, he says: “from his innovation
arose a cycle of novels of crisis, testimonials, committed to
an early declaration of the decline of moral values that
controlled private and public life, seen mainly through
political and economic activities”. H. E. Guillén,
“El realismo de Eugenio Cambaceres”, Nordeste, 5,
1963, p. 200 (my translation).
[6] My narratological approach follows, in
part, Schlomith Rimmon-Kenan’s Narrative Fiction:
Contemporary Poetics, London and New York: Methuen, 1983, where
she brings together some of the most important contributions to
narratology, among them, those of Mieke Bal, Claude Bremond,
Gérard Genette, Algirdas Julien Greimas, Gerald Prince,
and Boris Uspensky. By the “ideology” of a novel, I
am referring to what Uspensky calls “the norms of the
text”: “In the simplest case, the
‘norms’ are presented through a single dominant
perspective, that of the narrator-focalizer. If additional
ideologies emerge in such texts, they become subordinate to the
dominant focalizer, thus transforming the other evaluating
subjects into objects of evaluation [. . .]. Put differently,
the ideology of the narrator-focalizer is usually taken as
authoritative, and all other ideologies in the text are
evaluated from this ‘higher’ position. In more
complex cases, the single authoritative external focalizer
gives way to a plurality of ideological positions whose
validity is doubtful in principle. Some of these positions may
concur in part or in whole, others may be mutually opposed, the
interplay among them provoking a non-unitary,
‘polyphonic’ reading of the text”. Schlomith
Rimmon-Kenan, Narrative Fiction: Contemporary Poetics, p. 81.
As we shall see in this essay, Sin rumbo’s
“meaning” is indeed subordinate to the
narrator’s ideas, but presented through a complex
narrative construction. For a more complete exposition of
focalization see Rimmon-Kenan, Narrative fiction, pp.
71-77.
[7] Eugenio Cambaceres, Sin rumbo,
María Luisa Bastos (ed.), Buenos Aires: Anaya, 1971, p.
35. (In subsequent citations, abbreviated as SR)
[8] SR, p. 47. For the many expressions or
words that serve as “connotateurs de relais”, see
Marjet Berendsen, “The Teller and the Observer: Narration
and Focalization in Narrative Texts”, Style, 18, 1984,
pp. 143-145.
[9] SR, p. 47.
[10] George Schade, “El arte narrativo
en Sin rumbo,” Revista Iberoamericana, 44, 1978, p. 24
(my translation).
[11] Epple is correct in distinguishing
between narrator and Andrés, but his hypothesis involves
a Darwin-Schopenhauer opposition with which I do not agree. He
says that the novel’s narrator “with a superior
knowledge, aware of a reality that is more complex than that
which can be comprehended by the character, slowly imposes a
distinction between appearance and reality: he confronts the
philosophical ideas to which Andrés adheres, with what
the world really is like (Schopenhauer vs. Darwin). Such world
uncovers Andrés’s destructive temperament to show
an optimistic world driven by nature”. Epple,
“Eugenio Cambaceres”, p. 40 (my translation). He
then adds that “social criticism is therefore directed
against some pusillaminous attitude of aristocratic sectors of
Argentina at the time that society is pressured by new ideas,
pointing out as a positive ‘aim’ the positive
actions that can result from such an open and flexible
conception of the world as that of Darwin's”. Epple,
“Eugenio Cambaceres”, p. 43 (my translation).
However, as we shall see in this essay, a
“Darwinist” and “Anti-Schopenhauarean”
position is not at all what drives the novel’s logic. The
narrator is indeed a “Schopenhaurean”, whose ideas
are offered to the reader through an interesting and original
narrative strategy.
[12] According to Rimmon-Kenan there are two
modalities by which a narration can enter into the thoughts of
a character: “either by making him his own focalizer
(interior monologues are the best example) or by granting an
external focalizer (a narrator-focalizer) the privilige of
penetrating the consciousness of the focalized (as in most
nineteenth-century novels)”. Rimmon-Kenan, Narrative
fiction, p. 81.
[13] SR, p. 169.
[14] Arthur Schopenhauer, Parerga and
Paralipomena, E.F. J. Payne (trans.), Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1974, vol. 2, p. 614.
[15] SR, p. 64.
[16] SR, p. 109.
[17] SR, p. 167.
[18] SR, p. 51.
[19] SR, p. 110.
[20] Mikhail Bakhtin, contrasting the lyric
with the novel, says: “in the majority of poetic genres,
the unity of the language system and the unity (and uniqueness)
of the poet's individuality as reflected in his language and
speech, which is directly realized in this unity, are
indispensable prerequisites of poetic style. The novel,
however, not only does not require these conditions but [. . .]
even makes of the internal stratification of language, of its
social heteroglossia and the variety of voices in it, the
prerequisite for authentic novelistic prose”. Mikhail
Bakhtin, The Dialogic Imagination, Caryl Emerson and Micahel
Holquiest (trans.), Austin: University of Texas Press, 1985, p.
264.
[21] SR, p. 51.
[22] SR, p. 43 (my italics).
[23] See Mieke Bal, Teoría de la
narrativa, Javier Franco (trans.), Madrid: Cátedra,
1985, p. 119.
[24] See, for example, chapter 19, “On
the Metaphysics of the Beautiful and Aesthetics”, in
Schopenhaurer, Parerga, vol. 2, pp. 415-520. Also, in Arthur
Schopenhauer, "The Platonic Idea: the Object of Art", The World
as Will and Idea, R.B. Haldane and J. Kemp (trans.), Oxford:
Clarendon Press, vol 1, pp. 330-346; and Schopenhauer, "On the
Metaphysics of Music", The World as Will, vol 3, pp. 231-244.
This has been studied by Frederick Copleston, Arthur
Schopenhaurer, Philosopher of Pessimism, London: Search Press,
1975. See mainly his chapter 5, "The Partial Escape: Art", pp.
104-123. See also David Walter Hamlyn, Schopenhauer, London:
Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1980, pp. 110-115.
[25] Besides the importance that these
aesthetic and impressionistic passages have for our reading of
the novel, it should be noted that few have even mentioned
them. This, perhaps, because it was thought that they
supposedly had little to do with “Naturalism” and
its objective mode. However, as some have already noticed,
there seems to be a close relationship between Naturalism and
Spanish American Modernismo (in its aesthetic orientation, and
perhaps with a certain leaning toward Schopenhauer's ideas on
art). For Zola himself, for example, his artistic creation was
quite distant from what he had prescribed as an
“anti-poetic” formula in his “Experimental
Novel” — something looked at in detail by John A. Frey,
The Aesthetics of the Rougon-Macquart, Madrid: Editorial
José Porrúa Turanzas, 1978. Having completed this
essay, I came across a doctoral dissertation by Oscar Michael
Ramírez who, under a different critical approach than
mine, corraborates some of my ideas on this novel. He
conjectures that Cambaceres probably did not read German, and
that Schopenhauer's first translation into French (of The World
as Will and Idea) did not appear until 1886. He points out,
however, that most of the German philosopher's ideas had been
translated in various publications years earlier (Michael Oscar
Ramírez, La trayectoria narrativa de Eugenio Cambaceres,
Diss. U. of California, Los Angeles, 1984, pp. 342-346). I
should also add that the first translation into English of this
book by Schopenhauer appeared in 1883, which is the one used in
my essay. For further information on this, see Pedro Lasarte,
“Sin rumbo en el texto de Schopenhauer”, Inti, 39,
1994, pp. 81-96.
[26] SR, p. 136.
[27] SR, p. 52.
[28] Schopenhauer, The World as Will, vol. 1,
pp. 514-515. Rafael E. Catala, for example, falls into the
common error of thinking that Schopenhauer favored suicide:
“Let us note [. . .] Schopenhauer's great influence with
his ideas on suicide. In his ‘Studies in Pessimism’
from Parerga and Paralipomena (vol. III), Schopenhauer gives
Cambaceres the basis for suicide as an act of will and freedom,
as a natural act.” Rafael E. Catala, “Apuntes sobre
el existencialismo en Sin rumbo, de Eugenio Cambaceres,”
Estudios de historia, literatura y arte hispánicos
ofrecidos a Rodrigo A. Molina, Madrid: Insula, 97, p. 106 (my
translation). It should be speculated that perhaps what has led
most people toward a misreading of Schopenhauer's ideas on
suicide is his essay “On suicide”, in which what he
does is actualy criticize Western religion's condemnation of
suicide as a crime. Schopenhauer, Parerga, vol. 2, pp.
306-311.
[29] SR, p. 106.
[30] SR, p. 105.
[31] SR, p. 85
[32] There has been some confusion with
regard to the question if Schopenhauer truly considered opera
as a great artistic genre. This has been studied conclusively
by Bryan Magee, The Philosophy of Schpenhauer, Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1983, pp. 184-185, where he shows that the
error stems from a terminological confusion since Schopenhauer
(like Wagner) criticized “Grand Opera” as a
spectacular and popular activity created in Paris in the 19th
century. Schopenhauer attacked such spectacles calling them
vulgar and empty in Parerga, vol. 2, pp. 432-436, but he was
not referring to Opera, which he praises extensively in his
World as Will, vol. 3, pp. 232-235.
[33] Schopenhauer, Parerga, vol 1, p.
339.
[34] SR, p. 175. Textually, the
identification between the two is noted not only in a
coincidence of names (Andrés / Andrea), but also through
various seemingly unconscious actions by the protagonist. His
daughter has fallen victim to croup, cannot breathe, and has
had surgery on her throat, a tracheotomy. Interestingly, the
narrator, when describing Andrés's suffering tells us
that “he would grasp his neck as if wishing to pull out
the anguish that oppressed his throat.” SR, p. 190. And
only a few pages later, we read that Andrés “tried
to speak, but an inarticulate sound, as a salvage scream came
from his throat [. . . and] with a tug he pulled off his tie,
unbuttoned his collar." SR, p. 193.
[35] SR, p. 205.
[36] According to Jean Franco, for
Andrés, “his only freedom is that of
self-destruction.” Jean Franco, An Introduction to
Spanish American Literature, Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1969, p. 118.
[37] SR, p. 206.
[38] SR, p. 106.
[39] The identification between Andrés
and his worker is also carried out formally in the novel. In
the first chapter Andrés is presented to the reader
anonymously as “a man” or as “the
boss”. In a parallel fashion, at the end of the novel the
peon appears only as a “man who carries out his vengeance
and runs away” — without any reference to his name. The
fact that the novel establishes such a parallel between the two
takes us back again to Schopenhauer's idea that individuality
is only a phenomenon of a totality, which is the Will.
[40] SR, p. 206.