Don Quixote class, Day 1

Today, for the first day of our Don Quixote class, we did a close reading of the first paragraph of Chapter 1, possibly the most famous opening paragraph in all of Spanish literature:

En un lugar de la Mancha, de cuyo nombre no quiero acordarme, no ha mucho tiempo que vivía un hidalgo de los de lanza en astillero, adarga antigua, rocín flaco y galgo corredor. Una olla de algo más vaca que carnero, salpicón las más noches, duelos y quebrantos los sábados, lantejas los viernes, algún palomino de añadidura los domingos, consumían las tres partes de su hacienda. El resto della concluían sayo de velarte, calzas de velludo para las fiestas, con sus pantuflos de lo mesmo, y los días de entresemana se honraba con su vellorí de lo más fino. Tenía en su casa una ama que pasaba de los cuarenta, y una sobrina que no llegaba a los veinte, y un mozo de campo y plaza, que así ensillaba el rocín como tomaba la podadera. Frisaba la edad de nuestro hidalgo con los cincuenta años; era de complexión recia, seco de carnes, enjuto de rostro, gran madrugador y amigo de la caza. Quieren decir que tenía el sobrenombre de Quijada, o Quesada, que en esto hay alguna diferencia en los autores que deste caso escriben; aunque por conjeturas verosímiles se deja entender que se llamaba Quijana. Pero esto importa poco a nuestro cuento: basta que en la narración dél no se salga un punto de la verdad.

I don't want to translate the whole thing right now, but basically my goals for this exercise had to do with strangeness and familiarity.

First of all, there's the strangeness of the language. This is modern Spanish, but it doesn't feel modern to today's students. It feels as unfamiliar as the English of the King James Bible. But by working through it together I hope to show them that its unfamiliarity is not an insurmountable barrier. it's important not to be put-off by the language, because much of Cervantes's humor is built on irony and witty turns of phrase and it's easy to get so bogged down in trying to make sense of the unfamiliar that we miss the comic elements.

I want them to appreciate the strangeness of the Spanish and of the world this book inhabits. Ironically, part of this strangeness is its utter ordinariness -- something we don't always recognize because 400 years separate our world from Don Quixote's. The world of the novel is not our world and the language is not our language. When I teach Don Quixote I try to acknowledge distance and I see it as my function -- especially with undergraduates -- to bridge the gap between those two worlds. As I said above, that gap can prevent us from recognizing just how ordinary the world of Don Quixote is. Cervantes was writing a parody of chivalric romances, which adventure books that were often set in exotic lands. For his parody, Cervantes chose La Mancha, possibly the least exotic place in all of Spain. This is perhaps unfair to California's great Central Valley, but I tell the students to imagine a superhero, whose mission in life is to protect not Metropolis or Gotham, but Bakersfield and Fresno.

More to come. 

A Glorious Mess

As I search for titles to include in my Don Quixote film series, I finally got around to watching the Orson Welles version. I suspect it's one of the great might-have-beens in film history. It was famously never finished, in fact, there seem to be questions about whether it was ever meant to be finished. Welles worked on it intermittently for decades; Spanish filmmakers Jesús Franco and Patxi Irigoyen cobbled together this version in 1992, seven years after Welles's death.

The result is sometimes jarring. In the English-language version that I watched sometimes the characters' voices are dubbed by different actors within the same scene. The film gets repetitive at times, some scenes go on far longer than they need to, and great stretches of the film feel more like scattered clips from Welles's home movies than a coherent whole.

However, despite its messiness there are glimpses of something wonderful. Welles sets the film in modern Spain, so not only do we get windmills, we also get to see Don Quixote, played by a gaunt Francisco Reiguera, attempt to liberate a protesting woman from the Vespa that has captured her. The first hour, in fact, is very funny. Quixote gets carried away by his flights of fancy, while Sancho, played by Akim Tamiroff, trails behind not quite knowing what to make of this madman. In the second hour it becomes clear that Sancho is the real star of this show; Don Quixote is a somewhat static myth while Sancho, in Welles's telling, is a "character."

What I really enjoyed about this film is that even in its fractured state it's the only Don Quixote adaptation I've seen that does real justice to the metafictional frame. Orson Welles pops up occasionally as a filmmaker named Orson Welles who is making an adaptation of Don Quixote. At one point Sancho gets a part as an extra in Welles's film. So Welles essentially becomes the voice of Cide Hamete Benengeli. The possibilities of this arrangement are delightful and were brought home to me in one of the never-ending scenes I complained of above. At one point Sancho is looking for Don Quixote on the midst of a town festival. As he stumbles among the spectators of a bullfight, more than one person dismisses him as crazy. We are watching a spectacle in which Sancho interacts with other people who dismiss him as mad, people who themselves are watching a spectacle that many other people would dismiss as mad. The question of madness and how to define it becomes impossible to ignore. And through it all the quixotic figure of Orson Welles smiles enigmatically as if to say "look what I've done."

The film, though, is nothing but a tease. A might have been. A mess. But a glorious one.

Quixotic Reference of the Day

I came across this one as I was browsing El Pais for material to use in my Spanish culture class. It’s a review by a writer named Maruja Tarre of Hillary Clinton’s book Hard Choices. Tarre describes herself as a fan of Clinton – one who feels profoundly let down by a book that reveals “una gran ignorancia del mundo en general y una extraordinaria arrogancia” [great ignorance of the world in general and extraordinary arrogance.] I have not read Clinton’s book, which many reviews said was unreadable, so I have to take Tarre’s word for it. What I found interesting was what for Tarre was the last straw:

... en dos oportunidades Hillary califica al gobierno de Muamar el Gadafi como “quijotesco”. Me parece que esa dictadura podía considerarse como grotesca, monstruosa, cruel, anacrónica, ¿pero quijotesca? ¿Qué visión tiene la flamante candidata y exsecretaria de Estado, de un personaje que es un arquetipo universal como Don Quijote? ¿Ha leído aunque sea un resumen para bachillerato, de la obra de Cervantes? Todos esos editores que corrigieron su libro, ¿no pensaron que comparar a un dictador como Gadafi con una figura emblemática de la hispanidad, podría resultar chocante para algunos de esos electores latinos que pretenden conquistar?

[... twice Hillary refers to the government of Muammar Gaddafi as “quixotic.” It seems to me that dictatorship could be thought of as grotesque, monstruous, cruel, anachronistic, but quixotic? What vision does the presumed presidential candidate and former Secretary of State have of such a universal archetype as Don Quixote? Did she bother to read even a summary of Cervantes’s work for her baccalaureate? Didn’t any of those editors who proofread her book think that comparing a dictator like Gaddafi with an emblematic figure of the Hispanic world might shock some of those Latino voters they want to win over?]

I am now curious to track down Hillary’s book and see how she uses “quixotic.” Meanwhile, in her possible defense, it’s worth pointing out that she’s not the only one to go that route with Gaddafi.

"Quixotic" in History

I found this interesting blurb from Talks on Temperance, by Frederic William Farrar (1881):

I know our attempt to resist the evil has been called Quixotic, and that we have been charged with a want of judgment. Be it so… I am not in the least degree afraid to be called Quixotic. I have enough experience of life, and have read enough of history to know that there has hardly ever been any single man who is been in the least degree more in earnest than his fellows, who has not been called Quixotic. In these days of a somewhat armchair kind of Christianity… to be called Quixotic, may be a testimony to which some honor may attach when it takes the form of an endeavor to do good to our fellow man. I am quite sure Luther would have been called Quixotic; Whitfield would have been called Quixotic, and also Howard and Wilberforce. To be called Quixotic very often means no more than this, that a man has been called into wakefulness of his peril, while others are slumbering around him through the mist. It means often that he is fired with a noble and necessary enthusiasm, having realized the dimensions of an evil to which others are blinded by familiarity. (pages 29-30)

I'm taken by the phrase "to be called Quixotic, may be a testimony to which some honor may attach when it takes the form of an endeavor to do good to our fellow man" because it seems that by this time the popular image of Don Quixote has become divorced from the actual novel. Because nearly every time Don Quixote endeavors to do good to his fellow man, he fails miserably.

Quixotic wordsmithery

I'm in Canada for the MLA with spotty wifi and no data roaming, so I missed posting yesterday. Here's a brief one for today. 

http://www.freep.com/story/news/local/michigan/2015/01/06/word-inventor/21364263/

Zimmer said word developers have to be realistic, calling an attempt to fill in a gap in the language "quixotic" and warning that it likely will not catch on. And using word parts which likely don't resonate with current speakers also undermines its likelihood of success: "People wouldn't hear 'sofralia' and say, 'Oh.' "

Quixotic in the News

Today's use of 'quixotic' in the news comes courtesy Bloomberg's Dave Weigel on Twitter:

GOP rebels celebrate their quixotic campaign, with the nagging feeling they could have done better. http://t.co/R2y6fl5dvB
— daveweigel (@daveweigel) January 6, 2015

Don Quixote (2000)

Starring John Lithgow and Bob Hoskins. Aired on TNT in 2000.

When I was a grad student at UCLA I used to see John Lithgow walking his dogs on campus. He seemed somewhat approachable, and knowing he was starring in a new version of Don Quixote that was going to air on TNT, I decided to pitch an interview with him to the Los Angeles Times, for whom I had done some freelancing in the past. To my surprise, they bought the idea. Armed with an actual assignment I talked to Lithgow’s publicist, who set up a lunchtime interview for me during the upcoming press junket.

I went to Lithgow’s suite at the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills and we walked down together to the restaurant. Quick side note: On the way down the hall we passed another suite where someone was doing press interviews. Lithgow asked who it was, found out it was Tobey Maguire, and decided to pop in and say hello. I waited in the hall.

Anyway, we ended up at the restaurant, where I enjoyed some very good crab cakes and conducted a woefully inept interview. Well, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but even though I had been a newspaper reporter I did not have much experience in the celebrity interview department. But Lithgow was congenial and patient with me, the piece ran in the Calendar section of the Times, and I got a check along with lunch at the Four Seasons.

So what do I think of the film?

If you click on the link above you’ll notice that the story I published was not a review. I wasn’t there to critique the film. Lithgow asked what I thought of it and I told him I liked it. And I did, but I wasn’t blown away. I found the acting a little too mannered for my taste, the Duke and Duchess too benign, the pacing a bit languid and the tone occasionally too reverential. But no film of Don Quixote gets it exactly right; every reader has his own idea of how the book should play on the screen and no film is going to please everyone 100 percent.

But I do use clips from this film when I teach Don Quixote because there’s a lot that I like about it. For starters, the language. My students sometimes complain about how Bob Hoskins portrays Sancho; they find his cockney accent distracting or inappropriate. But I love it. I like how the simple difference in linguistic register signals an important fact about Don Quixote and his squire: they come from the same town, but one is a gentleman, and the other is an illiterate peasant laborer.

The Setting. Although never explicitly mentioned, from the costumes you can tell the film is set in the 19^th century. Some might have a problem with this; if you’re married to the idea that Don Quixote is the product of a particular time and place, then taking him out of the 17^th century might seem to be one liberty too many.

But really, why not set it in a different time? We've all seen Shakespeare adaptations in modern dress and there is precedent for doing the same with Quixote: Orson Welles gave Don Quixote a modern setting in his doomed production. But another reason for moving the setting to the 19^th century could be to simply make it that much more obvious to modern viewers that the armor-clad Don Quixote is very much a fish out of water.

Point of View. I like the way the film visualizes Quixote's madness. This is a clear contrast to what many other films do. Usually, when Don Quixote attacks the windmills, the audience sees windmills. See for example, this clip from the 1991 Televisión Española production staring Fernando Rey and Alfredo Landa:

http://youtu.be/IVJEo92sy48?t=2m48s

We only know what Don Quixote is seeing based on his own description. But the Lithgow film shows us what Don Quixote sees.

http://youtu.be/VuIUnw1_8X0?t=15m31s

This approach puts us in Don Quixote’s head. We understand his madness from experiencing it instead of just witnessing it.

DQ in the News: Pope Francis as Don Quixote

The Irish Independent today used two literary images to describe Pope Francis's attempts to reform the Vatican bureaucracy. On the one hand, he is compared to the heroic horsemen of Alfred Lord Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade."

An heroic poem proclaims that “Into the valley of Death rode the six hundred”.
And into the Vatican at Christmas boldly rode Pope Francis.

On the other hand, perhaps the Pope is more like everyone’s favorite misguided knight:

But some fear that Pope Francis is less like an heroic horseman in braided uniform than a well-intended Don Quixote, tilting at windmills. 

Inspired by noble ideas, but aided only by the simple Sancho Panza, Spain's Don Quixote set out to undo wrongs and to defend the helpless before things went wrong and he ended up attacking mills that he mistook for giants.

But people always forget that it wasn’t just noble ideas that inspired Don Quixote. In addition to the lofty ideas we must remember that he found those ideas in bad literature that drove him crazy.

A Moment in El Toboso (Dulcinea's village)

From my journal, Wednesday, August 23, 2000

At 11 a.m. the Centro Cervantino opened up. 

The museum displays some 273 editions of Don Quixote from all over the world and translated into some 43 languages. The oldest editions are from the 18th century. 

Many of the books are donated and signed by leaders from all over the world and from decades past. Among the world leaders donating signed copies of Don Quixote: Ronald Reagan, Moamar Qaddafi, Benito Mussolini and King Juan Carlos I. 

I asked the woman in charge about Alcázar de San Juan's claim to be Cervantes's birthplace. She said a local academic claimed that the church in Alcázar had Cervantes's baptismal record, but as far as she knew it has since disappeared. The plot thickens... 

After El Toboso we checked out the windmills at Campo de Criptana. What can I say? They are windmills. Actually, the hillsides all around this neck of the woods bristle with windmills, some still with their original mechanisms, some, apparently, just for the benefit of the tourists. We toured one windmill. At the top we could see how the sails turn these massive gears, which in turn move the millstones to grind the flour. The next floor below had a chute which would channel the flour into bags. The guy selling post cards said this mill was 400 years old. I don't think it's still in working condition. But it's still mightily impressive. 

Quixote news of note

Can't believe I didn't know about this. Apparently the ubiquitous and often-annoying James Franco has directed his own version of Don Quixote. I'm intrigued, yet mildly put-off.

Quixotic Endeavors

I’m intrigued by the word quixotic. I did a LexisNexis search this morning and looked for uses of quixotic during the previous 24 hours. Here is some of what I came up with:

From Associated Press:

Ron Paul, a physician and former congressman from Texas, opposed almost every facet of government as overreach during his time in office and two Quixotic campaigns for president, winning the nickname "Dr. No."

From a Washington Post travel article about Tijuana and its environs, wherein the writer is searching for Al Capone:

The room is decorated with blue-and-white ceramic tiles painted with scenes from Don Quixote, and there’s a lofted area above the bar where mariachis would play. There are sumptuous satin window treatments, crystal chandeliers, stately furnishings and a knock-off Renoir hanging on one wall, but the centerpiece is a stained-glass dome on the ceiling, under which Capone allegedly ran a card game. Today the space is used mostly for weddings. I’m beginning to feel like my hunt for Capone is itself a little quixotic. His name is on everyone’s lips, with whispers and rumors aplenty — but hard evidence is scarce.

In both cases, quixotic describes quirky, possibly lost causes – doomed endeavors undertaken by someone out of misplaced idealism, though possibly with honorable intentions. This is a far cry from how the word was used when it was first coined.

When I teach Don Quixote we return time and again to two fundamentally different modes of reading the book. The Romantic approach tends to idealize Don Quixote and his madness. The “funny book” school of Quixote criticism (primarily British) arose to counter the Romantics and focuses on how the novel was read and embraced in its early centuries. It was a work of entertainment, and Don Quixote himself was a figure of fun to be derided. 

This trajectory from funny to philosophical finds its parallel in the word quixote and its cognates and derivatives. Quixote, in Spanish, originally referred to a piece of armor meant to protect the thigh. With the popularity of Cervantes’s book, however, quixote acquired a secondary meaning, which the Diccionario de Autoridades from 1737 defines thusly:

QUIXOTE. Se llama al hombre ridiculamente sério, o empeñado en lo que no le toca. Latín. Ridiculus homo.

In other words, quixote is how one refers to a ridiculously serious man, or one who meddles in things that don’t concern him.

The Oxford English Dictionary defines quixotic as referring to persons, things or ideas “demonstrating or motivated by exaggerated notions of chivalry and romanticism; naively idealistic; unrealistic, impracticable; (also) unpredictable, capricious, whimsical.” 

The earliest use of quixotic cited in the OED comes from “Protestant Popery,” a satirical broadside in verse from 1718:

Pulpit and Press fictitious Ills engage,

And combat Windmills with Quixotic Rage:

Tumultuous Din and Clangor shakes the Sky, 

And each vile Scribbler waves his Banners high. 

Combating windmills does not come across here as delightfully endearing. The OED also cites an 1815 letter from JohnAdams in which he talks about Don Francisco de Miranda as “a vagrant, a vagabond, a Quixotic adventurer,” someone, in short, not worth thinking about (see page 157).

So in its early usage, quixotic did not carry positive connotations. But over the years, “unpredictable and capricious” have given way to “whimsical” as Don Quixote transitioned from being a distinctly Spanish madman into a universal symbol of doomed and misunderstood idealism. This is the reading preferred by the Romantic school.

Thus, the OED provides a quote from Harold Bloom’s 1994 book The Western Canon: “Against that claim I set the most poignant and Quixotic of all critical agonists, the Basque man of letters Miguel de Unamuno.” To Bloom, to be quixotic is to be poignant. Quixotic has moved from capricious and possibly dangerous to something admirable and almost endearing.

That change can also be seen in Spanish. The Diccionario de la Real Academia Española (sucessor to the Diccionario de Autoridades) defines quixote as:

m. Hombre que antepone sus ideales a su conveniencia y obra desinteresada y comprometidamente en defensa de causas que considera justas ...

[a man who places his ideals above his convenience and works in a committed and disinterested way in defense of causes he considers just ...]

So the lesson here is that language changes. And in this case, the trajectory of one particular word and its derivatives in two languages parallels the trajectory of the novel itself and how it is read.

How I prefer to read the novel remains to be seen.