After the Storm did not Come, the Calm: Love, Memory, and Identity in the Modern Mexican Novel, 1947-1963
Open Access
- Author:
- Flores-portero, Luis
- Graduate Program:
- Spanish
- Degree:
- Doctor of Philosophy
- Document Type:
- Dissertation
- Date of Defense:
- June 16, 2011
- Committee Members:
- John Andres Ochoa, Dissertation Advisor/Co-Advisor
Nicolas L Fernandez Medina, Committee Member
Guadalupe Martí Peña, Committee Member
Stephen Wheeler, Special Member - Keywords:
- Mexican Revolution
politics
literature
Eros
Tanatos
neocolonialism - Abstract:
- My dissertation focuses on the second generation of novels of the Mexican Revolution, and on the related debate concerning the death of the revolutionary ideals of freedom, justice, and land reform. Some were pronounced dead after the 1940s. Through the analysis of 4 novels of the “segunda novela de la Revolución;” namely Before the Storm (1947) by Agustín Yáñez, Pedro Páramo (1955) by Juan Rulfo, The Death of Artemio Cruz (1962) by Carlos Fuentes, and Recollections of Things to Come (1963) by Elena Garro, I aim to answer the following question: not whether there was still some life that could be prophesized after the death of the Revolution, but rather if there had actually been life before that apparent death. Theoretically, to address the stagnant death prevalent in Mexico, I start from a detail left unarticulated by Joseph Sommers in After the Storm: Landmarks of the Modern Mexican Novel (1968). In this landmark work, Sommers pointed out that the second novels of the Revolution after Before the Storm of 1947, introduce psychological depth and “themes of love.” In relation to the latter, I argue that they shed light on the secular, rhetorical discourse of the ruling P.R.I. (which, predictably, was not going to acknowledge the death of the Revolution). In 1942, President Manuel Avila Camacho gave a speech defending love as a necessary tool for the national construction. From all the above, I bring up the first and main issue organizing my project, a fundamental dynamic which began in the 1940s: the un-discussable death of the Revolution and its goals could be addressed mostly literarily, and indirectly, as a stagnant death; that is, in terms of past, present, and future frustrations of love. This dynamic is markedly different from the one of the “first generation” of the novelas de la revolución, and raises the second main issue I explore: how far can this sublimation of the death of the Revolution extend sustainably? Critically informed by Frantz Fanon and Michel Foucault, the “segunda novela de la Revolución,” featuring these “themes of (frustrated) love,” comprises the core of my dissertation to elucidate Mexican neocolonialism and the latest defense of love in 1942 by the declining P.R.I. “before” the death of the Mexican Revolution. This situation ultimately addresses the theme of lifelessness in the cultural discourse beginning not only in the 1940s, but mainly in the overall history of Mexico, marked by the circular return of violence and the triumph of Evil that prevents the materialization of a “new man.” “Al filo del agua (1947) de Agustín Yáñez o las estrategias de supervivencia de la Revolución Mexicana.” This chapter is a good arena to explore all the above: what kind of life or love was there anytime and anywhere in Mexico, traditionally characterized by what the nineteenth-century historian José María Luis Mora Lamadrid called “esprit de corps.” Yáñez’s novel addresses not the defense of love, but rather the danger of its impossibility that ultimately leads to violence and hysteria. Relying on Frantz Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth (1963), I study the desperation of the Ancient Regime to hold on to (neo)colonial power by imposing fears and myths, which ultimately magnifies the irrational libido of the “natives.” The end of the novel portrays the declining “settlers” facing their own fears or myth and, by extension, their own failure of the libido. This type of self-consciousness finally brings some melancholic peace to the main character of the novel: the priest Don Dionisio. Curiously enough, Yañez found inspiration for this first novel in Gabriel Faure´s Requiem, which I use as the thematic thread in my dissertation to articulate my thesis on this contradictory calm or death before/overlapping with the lack of Freedom and the death of the Revolution after 1940s. “Pedro Páramo (1955) de Juan Rulfo o más valer no haber nacido.” Rulfo’s novel continues addressing this sublimated death by exploring the cultural memory of Mexico’s “caudillos.” In Pedro Páramo, it is marked by a futile search for love, which in turn is linked to death. Here, I return to Avila Camacho’s defense of love as part of the political sway to the right during his presidency, which was characterized by the rapprochement of left-leaning Mexico towards the United States in the capitalistic sphere, especially in the context of the Second World War. In this chapter, I invoke as a thematic touchstone a Hollywood movie of the 1940s: Frank Capra’s It’s a Wonderful Life (1946). This film, featuring George Bailey’s recovery of the memory of his life and loves thanks to Divine Providence, results in a reaffirmation and love of the community. This stands in diametrical contrast to Juan Preciado in Pedro Páramo, who also engages in a return to memory, but in his case this leads to impossible love, Evil, and death. “La muerte de Artemio Cruz (1962) de Carlos Fuentes o laa memoria del deseo (in)satisfecho.” Here I explore what Fuentes called “the death of life,” which runs parallel to “the life of death” of his novella “Aura,” published the same year. Relying on Foucault’s History of Sexuality I (1976), I approach this novel as a deathbed confession. Via this triple-voiced declaration of guilt, the character of Artemio Cruz finally discovers and begins to admit that his life and his identity (and by extension Mexico’s) were determined by exactly the same oppressive powers that (t)he(y) opposed from an early age. To articulate this position, I rely on careful close readings of the dates given in the sections narrated in third person. There is a hidden correspondence, I argue, between the events set in 1903 and those of 1503 during the Spanish Conquest, with overall implications for the history of Mexico. “Los recuerdos del porvenir (1963) de Elena Garro o mírame antes de quedar convertida en piedra.” In the last chapter I also emphasize the second issue of my dissertation, regarding how far the sublimation of the death of the Revolution can extend sustainably. Particularly, I explore the historical reach of this sublimation: how far does it go into the past, marked by identity-building confessional practices? Here I rely on Elena Garro’s novel, set during the “revuelta cristera,” as the final awareness of two warring sides trapped in a historical continuum of violence, repression, alienation, and “otherness.” Ultimately, the characters of Garro’s novel find out that they cannot dispose of the libido or their overall status as colonized subjects in search for self-recognition through love.