Novel

Tales Within A Tale

Open book with glowing three-dimensional fantasy map showing mountains, forest, castles, and sea with ships and lighthouses.
A magical book opens to reveal a glowing 3D map with mountains and sea landscapes.

Image generated by AI

Ryan and Don Roger

14

Tales within a Tale

            Don Quixote, the novel, is a tale that tells the story of Don Quixote and his adventures. While the adventures of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, and their delightful dialogs are the essence of the story, other stories abound. These ‘other stories’ are known, in academia, as the intercalated novels. They are tales told of and by other characters within the main history of the adventures of the ingenious hidalgo. While the characters within some of these intercalated novels mix at one level or another into the story of Don Quixote, some of them do not.

            The Tale of Foolish Curiosity, DQI, XXXIII / 33 -XXXV / 35, has very little to do with the story of Don Quixote, other than the fact that our knight is present in the inn while the tale is being told. We know that in Italy, Boccaccio’s Decameron, was a key player in the genre of story-telling. Our friends at AI tell us that “the Decameron is a collection of short stories by the 14th-century Italian author Giovanni Boccaccio (1313–1375). The book is structured as a frame story containing 100 tales told by a group of seven young women and three young men. They are sheltering in a secluded villa outside Florence to escape the Black Death. No television, no radio. They amuse themselves by telling stories. The various tales of love in The Decameron range from the erotic to the tragic. Tales of wit, practical jokes, and life lessons also contribute to the mosaic. In addition to its literary value and widespread influence (for example on Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales, it provides a document of life at the time. It is considered a masterpiece of early Italian prose.”

            What is The Tale of Foolish Curiosity doing in the Quixote?One suggestion is the hinge theory – the tale links thematically to the ideas expressed in the Quixote. We have just met several intercalated novels in which the theme of love plays a major role. The Tale of Foolish Curiosity is a psychological novel, written in the Italianate style favored by Cervantes, that explores the theme of folly in love. A second theory is that The Tale of Foolish Curiosity is there merely for entertainment. A third is that it is there to demonstrate Cervantes’s writing skills. Whichever reason pleases us most, and all can be equally true, we know from DQ2, III /3, that not every reader was happy with the inclusion of this tale in DQI.

            In this chapter, Sampson Carrasco, the Bachelor, tells us that “One of the faults they find in this history … is that the author inserted a novel called The Tale of Foolish Curiosity – not that it is bad or badly told, but because it is out of place and has nothing to do with the story of his worship Don Quixote.” In response, our knight replies “Now I believe that the author of my story is no sage but an idle chatterer.” The Tale of Foolish Curiosity is the only intercalated novel criticized in this fashion. Let us take a brief look at the others.

            The story of Chrysostom and Marcela (DQI, XII, XIII, XIV) involves our knight errant, for the characters in the intercalated novel, interact with Don Quixote, Marcela, in particular. When she wishes to leave the scene, the young men who love her and follow her against her will wish to follow her, but Don Quixote defends her, and prohibits their pursuit of the shepherdess. In similar fashion, the tale of Cardenio and Lucinda is woven into the narrative of Don Quixote’s adventures, Cardenio appearing in DQI, XXIII, XXIV, and again in XXVII. The first meeting between them (DQI, XXII) is justly famous. Two foolish people, the Ragged Knight and the Knight of the Sad Countenance, meet, embrace, and look deeply into each others mad eyes.

            Almost immediately (DQI, XXVIII), Dorothea appears on the scene and starts to tell the tale of her own misfortunes. They are interwoven with the tale of Cardenio and Lucinda, although they are not aware of it. Dorothea learns of the plot to deceive Don Quixote and bring him back to his village and willingly agrees to play the part of a distressed lady in search of a knight errant to rescue her. Don Quixote accedes to her request.  When they spend the night at an inn, first they hear The Tale of Foolish Curiosity and the captive, recently escaped from Algiers, appears and tells his tale (DQII, XXXIX, XL, XLI). Yet more adventures occur at the inn, and several more characters weave their own tales into the tale of Don Quixote.

            Two clear patterns emerge. (1) Tales that are independent in their majority, of the knight’s story. (2) Tales that are interwoven closely with the adventures of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. This style of events changes in DQII, after the intervention of ten years (1605-1615) during which Cervantes receives and processes feedback from his many readers. As we will see when we get there, Don Quixote and Sancho become the key figures in what will become the first self-referring novel (more about that later), and all the tales told within DQII will be woven into the stories of what will become, thanks to the split narrative, our two adventurers.

            Meanwhile, in 1613, Cervantes published his Novelas ejemplares, a collection of twelve short stories (novellas) that showcase his mastery of narrative beyond Don Quixote. These tales range from realistic depictions of 17th-century Spanish life to idealized, romantic adventures, designed to offer both entertainment and moral instruction. Some critics have speculated that Cervantes might have been thinking of including these novels is an expanded version of Don Quixote. However, if he did have that idea, he certainly abandoned it, given his own criticism of The Tale of Foolish Curiosity. I think, given the quality and expanded dimensions of DQII (1615), we can all be happy that he abandoned that idea!

The Sowing of Acorns

Painting by Moo
PTSD Spatter
aka

The tangled web we weave
when first we practice to deceive

Ryan and Don Roger

9

The Sowing of Acorns

            Metatheatre can be defined as a play within a play. In DQI,7, the priest and the barber decide that one of the easiest ways to cure Don Quixote of his madness will be to wall up his library, so that he can find no trace of the room in which it was contained. They thought it might stop him from thinking about his books. Then they agreed to tell him that an enchanter had taken the books away, room and all.

            When Don Quixote asks the housekeeper about his books, she tells him that there is neither room nor books because the devil has taken them away. The niece joins in and corrects her saying that no, it wasn’t the devil. A sage enchanter descended one night in a cloud, dismounted from his dragon, went into the room, came out through the roof in a puff of smoke, and left no trace of room or books. He called himself Muñaton and said he had a grudge against the books’ owner. Don Quixote corrects her and tells her is must have been Freston. The housekeeper joined in with “Freston or Friton, but it ended in ton.”

            Cervantes has now planted several little acorns in the mind of the reader. Sooner or later, they will grow into large oak trees.

1. Metatheatre is based on a falsehood. The main character does not see the dramatic irony in the situation, but believes the lie that the other characters have spun for him. They write the play within a play, and Don Quixote becomes the actor in that play written specifically for him. This metatheatrical theme will recur throughout the novel and will become dominant in DQII.

2. The correction of speech – Muñaton (housekeeper and niece) becomes Freston (DQ), becomes Freston (the housekeeper), and then Friton, or something ending in -ton. The correction of spoken language will play a much larger role later in the novel.

3. The role of the evil enchanter who dogs Don Quixote’s footsteps and robs him of his greatest triumphs. This will start in the very near future with the adventure of the windmills.

4. The intersection of illusion and reality. This is really important for several reasons. Cervantes, as author, causes his characters to reveal the truth behind any metatheatrical (or other) illusion that concerns Don Quixote. He does not wish to trade, like Lazarillo de Tormes in false miracle. Clearly, he has no wish to be, like Lazarillo, castigado.

The simplest conflict between illusion and reality occurs in the first sortie. Don Quixote sees an inn, a humble country inn. Totally deluded, he believes it is a castle. Nobody contradicts him. Inn – reality / castle / illusion – but nobody really points out the difference. The adventure of the windmills is similar. Don Quixote sees giants. Sancho Panza sees windmills. Now the conflict is supported by a sane and reliable witness aka his squire. When one of the characters reveals the illusion, the author does not need to step in and do so. Throughout part one of the novel (DQI), we will see Don Quixote reacting in different ways to the unmasking of the illusion in which he so strongly believed.  This situation, as we will see, will be presented in very different fashion in DQII. One fictional month between the two parts – but, in reality, ten years in which Cervantes thinks, plans, rewrites, and deepens his plots while polishing his skills.

So many little acorns. So many sown seeds. Hopefully, we will soon be able to watch them grow.

Distancing and Narrative Layers

Winding dirt path through misty forested mountains with conifer trees
A winding dirt path stretches through mist-covered forested mountains at dawn.

Image generated by AI

Ryan and Don Roger

8

Distancing and Narrative Layers

            In DQI, VIII/8, the author suspends the narration, leaving Don Quixote and the Basque with their swords in the air, frozen in time. The cliff-hanger, as it is often called, is not unknown in literary fiction, and yes, most normal human beings will want to know how this battle ends. However, read on – “But the unfortunate thing is that the author of this history left the battle in suspense at this critical point, with the excuse that he could find no more records of Don Quixote’s exploits than those recorded here.” Enter the second author – “It is true that the second author of this work would not believe that such a curious history could have been consigned to oblivion …” Would you believe it? We now have two authors a first one and a second one. So, would the real author stand up please?”

            Before he does, we have another little diversion. DQI, I-VIII/8 is only the first part of Don Quixote. We read at the beginning of DQI, IX/9 that “In the first part of this history, we left the valiant Basque and the famous Don Quixote with naked swords aloft …” So, logically, DQI now has two parts – DQI, Part One and DQI Part Two. Clearly, we are dealing with a novel that is writing itself, constructing itself, and changing itself as it creates, re-creates, and rethinks itself. More, “our delightful history stopped short and remained mutilated, our author [singular] failing to inform us where to find the missing part. This caused me great annoyance.” Fascinating. Please tell me, if you know, who is this me? It is a me who cannot understand the lack of a conclusion to the story he is reading. Indeed, he must now go seeking the sage who wrote this story, for all of these stories – historical records – chronicles – archives – journals – registers now forgotten – must have had a sage enchanter who recorded them.

            And this is how that sage was found. The first-person narrator “I” visited the Alcana in Toledo. There he bought a parchment book written in Arabic. He finds a translator who, on reading the book, starts to laugh at the mention of Lady Dulcinea, “the gest hand at salting pork in La Mancha.” This parchment becomes these books, and at the beginning he found the following: “History of Don Quixote de la Mancha, written by Cide Hamete Benengeli, Arabic historian.” The first-person narrator then took the Arabic translator to his own house and there, in less than six weeks, he translated the history from Arabic into Spanish.

            The Ariadne’s thread that will lead us through this labyrinth goes like this. Cervantes (author), becomes Cervantes (first-person narrator), becomes Cervantes (commentator), who offers us the translator’s version, of the History of Don Quixote that was originally written in Arabic. Clearly a series of barriers between the author and his creation have been built. Everything is now deniable. And doubly so, since “if any objection can be made against the truth of this history, it can only be that its narrator was an Arab – men of that nation being ready liars.” And note that both Cide Hamete and the translator are Arabs – a double dose of distancing to protect our noble author from the long arm of the Inquisition.  

Hunt the Author

Open book with labyrinthine paper structure and calligraphy designs
A fascinating labyrinth constructed from the pages of an old book, showcasing delicate calligraphy and illustrations.

Image generated by AI

Ryan and Don Roger

7

Hunt the Author

            We have already seen what type of games can be played with numbers. Now we shall look at a different type of party game – hunt the thimble or the slipper turned into hunt the author. Where is the best place to hide a tree? In a forest. What is the best place in which to hide a book? In a library. What is the best place to hide a needle? In a haystack. What is the best place to hide an author? In a book, of course.

How does this affect our understanding of Don Quixote? Well, we are about to find out. But first we must ask the question, why would we want to hide an author in the first place? The answer to this is quite simple – to avoid punishment from the Spanish Inquisition, or any other authoritarian institution that wishes to ban books and punish authors for writing them. The best way to do this is to not put the author’s name on the book. Thus, Lazarillo de Tormes, said to be the first picaresque novel, was written by Anonymous. And when you check your history of literature, you will find that a great many books and poems have been written by that gentle person. Person, because being anonymous, we have no idea if he was a he or she was a she!

But who is the author of Don Quixote? Miguel de Cervantes, obviously. Who, then, is the narrator of the story? In the first sentence of the book, this first-person narrator reveals himself ‘in a village in la Mancha that I do not wish to name – de cuyo nombre no quiero acordarme / whose name I don’t want to remember – in the original Spanish. A little later, DQI, II / 2, in an effort to distance himself from the text, our first-person narrator states that ‘There are authors who say that the first adventure he met was that of the pass of Lapice. Others say it was the windmills. But what I have been able to discover of the matter and what I have found written in the annals of La Mancha …”

So, we have our first-person narrator, but he is not creating this story, not at all. We know from 4 – Stage to Page, that our narrator borrowed the idea for this first sortie from El Entremés de los Romances. Now he tells us that multiple authors have written about Don Quixote and his adventures and that there are some discrepancies about what was his first adventure. Our narrator also tells us that he has researched the matter and found his account in the annals of La Mancha. Interesting. Annals, multiple writers, and our narrator is a historian who has researched the matter. What do we find when we hunt the author? Not one author, but multiple authors and a reference to accounts of the matter contained in the annals of La Mancha. Once again, AI comes to my rescue – “Synonyms for annals include historical records, chronicles, archives, journals, and registers. These terms refer to chronological accounts or records of events, often in yearly order, documenting the history of a person, organization, or era.”

            Curiouser and curiouser! Historical records – chronicles – archives – journals – registers -documenting the history of a person – what price creativity? No single slipper, then, at this hunt the slipper party, but a multiplicity of slippers, just like the Easter Bunny lays a multiplicity of eggs at Easter and hides them round the house. So much for the needle in the haystack – some haystack this.

Book Burnings

Hooded figures holding torches surround a bonfire of burning books and scrolls.
A group of cloaked figures stands in a dimly lit stone courtyard as they burn ancient scrolls and books in a large central fire.

Image generated by AI


Ryan and Don Roger

5

Book Burnings

            In 1492, the Spanish Jews were given the choice of conversion to Catholicism or of being expelled from Spain. Many chose to leave. Those who converted, and remained, were kept under constant supervision. In an effort to stamp out their faith, their books were condemned to the flames by the Spanish Inquisition. A similar burning of the books in Don Quixote’s library occurs in DQI, 6. Is book burning effective? Some people think so. Other people aren’t so sure.

            The Spanish conquest of Mexico, led by Hernán Cortés, concluded on August 13, 1521, when Spanish forces and their native Tlaxcalan allies captured the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan and emperor Cuauhtémoc, marking the end of the Aztec Empire and the beginning of Spanish colonial rule. The country was then called New Spain. 

Mexico is famous for its codices. These are fan-fold picture histories, drawn on vellum covered with gesso, of tribal conquests, social norms, tables of the gods, in fact a whole cultural and historical record of pre-Hispanic Mexico. The Zouche-Nuttal codex, for example, sets out the conquests of Ocho Venado / Eight Deer, nicknamed Garra de Tigre / Tiger Claw, a Mixtec warrior, who lived between 1063 and 1115. Five of the Mixtec codices survive. Many, many more were burned. The cover of the Vindobonensis shows the burn marks where some daring person pulled the codex from the flames and saved it. Without such saved codices, we would have much less knowledge of pre-Hispanic Mexico.

            Why is this anecdote important? Because prior to the invention of printing, in 1474, manuscripts were written by hand. Yes, some were copied, but many copies were single and unique. Burn the manuscript, destroy the knowledge it contains. Post 1474, with the printing of multiple copies of books, the individual book might be destroyed, but some books would survive from the printing sequence. Apply this to Don Quixote’s library and we note several things. First, Don Quixote’s copies are destroyed. Second, other copies of his books survive elsewhere. In addition, although Don Quixote’s books are burned the ideas in those books survive in the knight’s head and he lives by their rules. Those ideas are spread throughout the history of his adventures to everybody with whom he comes in contact. Conclusion – you can destroy the books. You cannot destroy the ideas that those books contained.

            Ray Bradbury, in Farhenheit 451, describes the burning of books in his dystopian novel. 451F incidentally is the temperature at which paper burns. The books are burnt in Bradbury’s world, but the book people survive. The book people are those who memorize their books and are able to quote them from memory and pass them on orally to other people.

            And people protect their books. How? By placing them in small rooms within their houses and walling up those rooms so that the books could not be found. This happens in DQI, VI – 6. Don Quixote awakes, goes to find his library, but it has disappeared. The housekeeper swears that a sage enchanter descended on a dragon and the library vanished in a puff of smoke. Don Quixote believes the metatheatrical lie and acts as if it were the truth. He then bemoans the fact that he is pursued by malignant sorcerers. These evil enchanters will pursue him throughout the novel whenever he wakes up from his illusions and is faced by reality. Clearly, the sage enchanters have robbed him of his moment of glory (illusion) and reduced him to sorry (the truth).

            Curiously enough, a 16th Century walled-up library was found in a house in Barcarrota, Spain not so long ago. The books were hidden, probably from the Inquisition, so that their owner could escape prosecution. The discovery sheds light on how individuals hid literature from the Inquisition during the 16th century in Spain. It also illustrates how closely Cervantes followed the reality of his times when writing the Quixote.

            You can destroy books. But it is very difficult to destroy the ideas they contain. In this fashion, although the burning of that one book ends the life of that particular volume, it rarely ends the life of the ideas contained within its covers. We might not recognize the names of the characters that Don Quixote quotes from his memory of those histories, but many of the people who encounter the knight during his adventures know them and remember them. Amadis of Gaul is never dead, not when his name lives on. The same is true of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. King Arthur is said to fstill be alive and can be seen in the shape of a White Crow, bran gwen, in Welsh. And even Walt Disney knew, and profited from, the legend of the sword in the stone.

We will also see, as we continue our journey, that in the same way that tall oaks grow out of small acorns, large parts of later events found in the Quixote already have their seeds sown in these early chapters. Metatheatre, illusion and reality, authorship and censorship, truth and falsehood, waking events and dream sequences – and that is just the start.

The Numbers Game

Ryan and Don Roger

3

The Numbers Game

            The numbering of the chapters in Don Quixote is also interesting. While Part I and Part II often retain the Latin numbering, the chapters themselves can be found both with Latin Numbers and standard numbers.

            Latin numbers are based on six letters I, V, X, L, C, D and M. Each has its own value. I = 1, V = 5, X = 10, l = 50, C = 100, D = 500, M = 1000. Most have us have seen Roman numerals on clocks and we are familiar with the numbers from 1-12. I, II, III, IV (4, that is to say one before five), V, VI (6, that is to say one after five), VII, VIII, IX (9, that is to say one before ten), X, XI (11, that is to say one after ten), XII.

            This paradigm governs Latin numbers. XV = 15, XX = 20, XXX = 30, XL (ten before fifty) = 40, L = 50, LX (ten after fifty) = 60, LXX = 70, LXXX = 80, XC (ten before one hundred) = 90, C = 100, CX = 110. The date of my writing this MMXXVI (2026). You will have noticed similar numerical configurations on books and old movies.

            The ancient Celtic numbering system was based on the digits of hands and feet. Counting sheep, for example, or goats, shepherds and goatherds would count up to twenty on their toes and fingers. Then they would carve a notch in a piece of wood. To keep score was to score the notch.

            Something similar happens in Basque jai alai, the happy game.  The scorers score in groups of IIII which they then made into 5 with a line through the numbers IIII. Four groups of 5 made 20 and the 21st notch won the game. That scoring method may have changed, but it is certainly how I learned to score the game in the Basque country (Spain) back in the 1950’s. Curiously, modern French shows the vestigial remains of this – quatre-vingts. Welsh shows a somewhat similar diversity because the Welsh word for twenty is ugain – although it’s technically not the only one, with the alternative dau ddeg (literally two tens) becoming more and more common. A case of plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.

            And we must never forget the old sterling system of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Island. £. S. D. aka pounds shillings and pence. 4 farthings = one penny, 12 pennies = one shilling, 20 shillings = one pound.

Our good friends on AI came to our aid with this one. I quote – The pre-decimal British currency system, known as £sd (librae, solidi, denarii), consisted of 12 pence in a shilling and 20 shillings in a pound (£), totaling 240 pence per pound. Used until Decimal Day on February 15, 1971, this system featured various denominations, including farthings, sixpences, florins, half-crowns, and crowns. What about a guinea you ask? Well. That was £1 and 1 shilling. Hence the auctioneer’s delight.

            “What am I bid”?       >         “£20.”             >          “Guineas!”

Our trusted friends on AI sum it up this way – “A guinea was a British gold coin minted between 1663 and 1814, officially valued at 21 shillings (£1.05 in decimal currency) from 1717 onwards. It was the first machine-struck gold coin in Britain, typically worth slightly more than one pound. While no longer in circulation, it is still used in horse racing and some luxury auctions to represent £1.05.”

Luxury auctions – I love that phrase. And here we must leave our luxurious description of, and adventures into, numbers in Don Quixote! Just look where the journey has led us. And remember, in the same way that Cervantes inserted short stories, both spoken and read, that digressed from the main narrative, we can also insert such mental rants and ramblings into our own narrative. And we shall continue to do.

Here’s one, for example. How do you count goats in Wales? Click on these links for two examples. Counting the Goats traditional and Counting the Goats modern. Of course, wrth gwrs, the simplest method of all is to count their legs and divide by four! Try doing that with Latin numerals!

           

What’s in a Name?

Ryan and Don Roger

2

What’s in a name?

            Don Quixote was first published in Spain in 1605. In 1609, Thomas Shelton translated it into English. By 1611 / 1612 the adjective quixotic, was already in use within English society. An AI search tells us that “In the 17th century, the term quixotic was used to describe a person who does not distinguish between reality and imagination. The etymology of the word began after the publication of Don Quixote in 1605.”

But what does quixotic mean exactly? Another AI search reveals that “Quixotism (adj. quixotic) is impracticality in pursuit of ideals, especially those ideals manifested by rash, lofty and romantic ideas or extravagantly chivalrous action. It also serves to describe an idealism without regard to practicality.”

            Why is this important? Quite simply because in English we say Don Quixote / Quick-sot, not Don Key-hoe-tay a bastardized version of the Spanish. Please note that the adjective, in English, is quixotic not “key-hoe-tay-ic” which is too chaotic to be practical. Note too that the French translators offer us Don Quichotte, while the Italians suggest Don Chisciotte. Both these languages conserve the original pronunciation – a voiceless postalveolar fricative /ʃ/, which is the same sound as the English “sh” in “ship”. This is clear evidence that the X of the original had a different pronunciation in the seventeenth century than it does today.

            My wonderful friends on AI confirm this as follows, and I quote:

In 17th-century Spain, the letter ‘X’ primarily represented a voiceless postalveolar fricative /ʃ/, which is the same sound as the English “sh” in “ship”. During this period, which coincided with the Spanish Golden Age and the “readjustment of the sibilants,” this sound underwent a transformation, shifting from the “sh” sound to the modern velar fricative /x/ (similar to the German ch in loch or the modern Spanish ‘j’). 

Here are the key details about the pronunciation of ‘X’ during that era:

Initial “Sh” Sound: Early in the 17th century (and before), words that are now spelled with ‘j’ or ‘g’ were spelled with ‘x’ and pronounced as “sh.” For example, Don Quixote was pronounced “Don Keesh-o-teh”.

The Sibilant Shift: During the 16th and 17th centuries, the sound /ʃ/ (written as ‘x’) and the voiced /ʒ/ (written as ‘j’) merged into a single voiceless sound /ʃ/. Later in the 17th century, this sound moved backward in the mouth, evolving into the modern velar /x/ (the modern ‘jota’).

And this is just the beginning and what’s in a name? For example, what is the real name of Sancho Panza? Is it Sancho Panza or Sancho Zancas [DQI,9]? How about his wife? Is it Juana Gutierrez or Mary Gutierrez [DQI, 7]? In the same chapter she is called Teresa Panza, the name that stays with her throughout the novel.

And what about Don Quixote himself? Is his real surname Quixada, Quesada, Quexana [DQI,1] or Alonso Quijano el Bueno [DQII,74]? Don Quixada de la Mancha aka Don Quesada de la Mancha aka Don Quexana de la Mancha – and we won’t mention the alternate names he takes – the Knight of the Sad Countenance or the Knight of the Lions!

Fascinating, eh? So, after all that, tell me – what’s in a name?

Riding Buddies – Reading Buddies

Ryan and Don Roger

1

Riding Buddies – Reading Buddies

            Don Quixote makes three sorties. The first is very brief, about five chapters. The second is much longer. And the third is 74 chapters in length. Each sortie is different. For now, I would like to take a brief glance the difference between Sortie 1 and Sortie 2.

            Sortie 1 – Don Quixote sets out on his own. He travels to an inn, has adventures there, gets knighted by the inn-keeper, albeit falsely, and after an unequal combat in which he is bruised and battered, he is brought back home by a neighbor.

            When the inn-keeper asks Don Quixote for payment, the knight replies that knights errant do not carry money with them, nor do they pay for their food and lodging. The inn-keeper recommends that Don Quixote find a squire to attend, one who can carry the money and the other things that a knight needs. Our knight takes this recommendation to heart.

            Sortie 2 – In this second sortie, Don Quixote has a companion. One of the main differences between the first and second sorties is that the knight now has a squire with whom he can talk. This dialog between knight and squire, master and servant, is key to the understanding of the novel.

            Their contrasting points of view, Don Quixote literate, a believer in reading, with a firm belief that all books of chivalry are true, contrasts immediately with the illiterate Sancho, his squire. Where Sancho sees reality – the windmills are windmills – Don Quixote sees illusion – the windmills are giants, waving their arms, and threatening to attack. This is a simplistic summary, but we will leave it there for now.

            Graham Green understood the nature of dialog when he penned his novel, Monsignor Quixote. In the film, available free of charge on YouTube, the Catholic Priest (now a Monsignor) and his friend, the Communist Mayor (now defeated in an election and unemployed) leave the little town in which they live, and set out on a journey of adventures, much in the same way that Monsignor Quixote’s namesake sets out in Cervantes’s novel.

They do not have a horse and a donkey. However, they do have Monsignor Quixote’s car, nicknamed, of course, Rocinante, in which to travel. The key to Green’s novel is the constant dialog between the mayor, knowledgeable in the ways of the world, and Monsignor Quixote, innocent of the world outside his church and full of illusions about the reality of that world. It is easy to think of them as riding buddies who converse.

            So, what is a reading buddy? Well, Don Quixote is a long book, over 1000 pages, with 127 chapters. Many readers set out in search of adventure, but do not keep reading. However, a wise reader will set out on that journey with a reading buddy, who will travel with him, step by step, chapter by chapter. Each will keep the other company, and one of the delights of the journey will be the constant conversation between the reading buddies.

            I am Don Roger. My reading buddy is Ryan. I am short and stout. Ryan is tall and thin. We have reversed the Sancho / Quixote image, but we are both equally insatiable in our search for knowledge. The curious thing is that I have read Don Quixote 28 items, mainly in Spanish, but also in English and French. Ryan is reading it for the first time, but he is an expert in AI access and is helping me to understand the wily ways of that electronic world of short cuts. Of course, it helps you to sort the chaff from the grain when you know what you are looking for and just use AI to refresh your fading memory!

            I am full of the illusions of the academy. Ryan reads with a sharp mind, a keen wit, and no illusions at all. He sees only the reality of what is there. Together we have embarked on a journey that is in the process of opening our eyes to two different realities his and mine – Ryan’s and Don Roger’s. The conversations that we are having along the way, will be the subject of this little discourse on Cervantes’s novel.

The Medallion

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The Medallion (Solace 7, 8, & 9)

7

St. James, Santiago, the patron saint of Spain and of the Conquistadores. Pale, egg shell blue walls, darkness ruling inside the church. It will do so until the sun peeps in the stained- glass windows and awakens all the sleeping colours. I bow my head, then my knee, and kneel at the back. Ahead of me, I recognize some of my neighbours who concentrate on the gestures of the priest as he mumbles to himself before the altar.

The early morning shadows creep across the walls until a single beam of sunshine descends and shatters the altar into a thousand tiny chips of fragmented light. My hands are pallid butterflies fluttering in the sun’s rays and a rainbow halo adorns my head. I shift away from the sunbeam and move to the side-chapel dedicated to the statue of St. James.

… St. James the Moor-Slayer … Santiago Matamoros … he stands on the severed heads of the Moors he has killed … behind him hands tied behind their backs dusky skinned warriors march away into slavery … my eyes are level with those severed heads and I stare eyeball to eyeball at a decapitated Moor … beside the statue stands a photo of the Gate of Glory, la Puerta de la Gloria, in the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Spain … … generations of pilgrims have laid hands upon the Tree of Jesse, imprinting their fingers into the stone … human hands clasping rough granite in a search for comfort and warmth …

8

When I leave St. James, I find the witchdoctor squatting, in a trance. His fire burns low and a strong scent of copal rises from the coals, hangs heavy on the air, then slowly dissipates. I stop for a second to study El Brujo and the witch doctor speaks without opening his eyes.

“I spoke to your mother yesterday.”

“That’s nonsense,” I replied. “My mother’s dead.”

“What ails you, my son?”

“I’m not your son.”

“It’s a wise man knows his own father,” El Brujo opens his eyes. “One night, many years ago, Jaguar crept between your ribs and took your heart into his mouth. When he closed his jaws, your heart was as heavy as stone and Jaguar broke his tooth upon it. He cursed you and your heart remained a rock within your chest. At night, when you sleep, you dream of dust and ashes.”

“You speak in riddles,” I try to remain calm yet the words fan a sorrow within me that I thought had died a long time ago.

“Perhaps, but my words speak true.”

            … curses, stone, dust, ashes, broken heart, rock, heart in mouth … a marigold path, zopilote, high in the morning air, fire-red his wing-tips, and then an old stone bridge, a river below it with the snow floating down to be carried away by the current, three crones dancing on the steps of an orphanage, three beautiful ladies dancing on the temple steps, an old man, dead, then alive and walking in his burial clothes … hummingbirds dancing round the sun … red slashes of blood … tulips against a white-washed wall … an old man vanishing into a tomb … death’s face simmering in the moon’s dwindling pool …

“You must make a sacrifice, my friend.”

“I don’t do sacrifice, not like that boy this morning.”

“No, not like that,” El Brujo shakes his head. “You must sacrifice your beliefs and allow me to bless you.”

“I have no beliefs.”

“Even that is a belief.”

“Then I am sacrificing nothing.”

“If that is what you believe, it is so. Here: take this. It’s yours by right,” El Brujo offers me a medallion on a braided leather thong. “This is your mother’s gift to you.”

“You’re crazy. I told you: my mother’s dead. She didn’t leave me this.”

“I tell you that she did.”

“Did you know her?”

“I did.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You may believe what you want. But tell me, does the medallion call you?”

“I like it, yes. I can’t say it calls. How much?” I put my hand in my pocket.

9

“You do not have enough money to buy it, and if you did, you wouldn’t be the man I think you are. And in that case, I wouldn’t sell it to you,” his eyes took on a faraway look. “However, it comes from your mother and I promised your mother I’d give you this.”

            El Brujo’s eyes hold a power that disconcerts me. I lower my head to his fire and the copal makes my eyes water. I cough and my vision blurs. My lungs fill with perfume and El Brujo pushes me closer to the incense. I inhale deeply and break out in a sweat.

“You must wear this always. It will protect you,” El Brujo places the medallion round my neck. I place my hand upon it, feel its rough edges, and see through my tears that it is incomplete, for it has been broken in half. What remains shows half a cross with some broken roses where the crucified Christ would normally appear.

“But it’s broken.”

“Not broken, but divided. You must find the missing half.”

“Did my mother tell you that?”

“Your mother is dead.”

El Brujo lapses into silence and stares me down. Then he breaks into a weird, wailing chant, using a language that I do not know. As he sings, he leans forward and brushes my eyes with an eagle feather that he draws from his pocket.

“Now, you will be able to see.”

… an old woman dressed in black, pushes at a young man … colored threads hang out from her basket … they flap like flags in the single ray of sunshine that breaks into a million tiny sparks of fire … hummingbirds, tiny warriors, wing their dance around a sun that bears a man’s  face … a pair of scissors snips at the string that ties a child’s balloon to the earth and it floats away up into the air high above the cathedral tower … fire catches its wings and it flares like zopilote, the trickster, in the dawn’s early light … the cathedral spire is a notched measuring stick conducting the clouds as they dance and weave their patterns … within the prison of the sky … trenchant shadows, twisted dancers, old warrior kings bend themselves in and out of shape as they struggle to escape … an old man  wrings his hands, then vanishes …  a soap bubble floats away on the wind … a young girl stands on a bridge in winter … snow swirls and  draws a curtain around her body as she falls into the waters below … an old crone wrapped in rags carries a bundle of clothes to a set of steps and leaves it there …

            “The medallion vibrates, it’s heavy and warm.”

“It knows you.”

“What do you mean, ‘it knows me’?”

“Did you feel nothing? Did you see nothing?”

“I saw nothing,” I cough and clear my throat. “I saw nothing at all.”

El Brujo looks at me long and hard. He opens his mouth to speak, then shrugs his shoulders.

“Come, you have accepted the medallion your mother left you. Now accept my blessing.”

“Why?”

“Because I ask you to. Are you such a coward that you cannot accept a blessing from an old man? Here, kneel beside me,” El Brujo taps the ground at his side and, wondering what on earth I think I am doing, I kneel beside him.

Codex

Ay Ay Ayeres

Codex (Solace 3 & 4)

3
Down below, in the courtyard, the handy man wakes me as he tumble dries a TV ad in the washing machine of his song sparrow throat. He gargles with gravel and churns stony lyrics skywards until they grate at my bedroom window and drag me from my dreams.

My ears fill up with a crackle and roar. Wave after wave of sunlight breaks over the azotea. Blind with music, deaf with light, I am awash in the sea-surge rhythm of this surfacing sun. My dreams break up like biscuits and between my fingers I feel a sandstorm of crumbs.

Morning blows fresh colours into each corner of my waking mind. An early breeze shakes cobwebs and dust from my brain. New visions crawl out from the vellum codex I left open last night on my table. Red and green gods wearing black and white masks crawl through spaces still alive in my mind. Sometimes they move when the eye doesn’t watch them, but when I concentrate, they freeze in intimate poses. I link them with lines and arrows and vow that my life will never again be scarred by their secretive smiles.

The red glare of the day’s first rocket climbs its ladder of sky to smash at the gods’ front door. A second rocket draws me back to daylight. Awake, I lie there, counting. A third explosion is much closer. The fourth rocket surges skywards and the fifth and sixth rockets are two fiery giants exploding above my apartment. I pull back the bed clothes and swing my legs over the side of the bed. My day has begun.

4

The codex lies open on the dining room table I use as a desk. I scan the interpretation I made late last night, transferring the visual to verbal.

“Two breasts: one green, one yellow, symbolic of the hill where the church stands; the church itself bi-coloured, strong stone walls, a spire. A large red heart symbolic of the love we bear for you, our masters. Two feet walking the path of enlightenment you opened before us are accompanied by two hands pointing the way. The feet below the heart; the hands above the heart, like wings; and the heart becomes the body of the new place you have built for us. And in the heart is our sacred symbol: the Earthquake, a sign of leadership and power used only by those of Royal Stature and the Noblest Blood. Attached to the heart is the Numeral One which means Lord of the Earthquake; for you are Number One in our Hearts. Attached to the heart is a speech scroll showing felicitous words of praise; below it is the sacred earthworm, and beneath that the serpent head of wisdom and the flint knife promising strength through sacrifice.

But be wary: for our symbols are double-edged! The colors of the hill are divided, as the hill is divided, showing strife and division. The church is on top of the hill, for the symbol has conquered the people, and the people are starving, subject, and destroyed. The feet are pointing in opposite directions, for the people are stalled. They have no forward movement, nor will of their own, for they are conquered by the sword and not by love. And the hands are pointing in opposite directions; for the right hand knows not what the left hand is doing. And the hands are reversed showing anguish and distress. The sign of the heart is the sign of the disembodied heart, torn from the heaving chest of the vanquished and thrown to the dogs. The sign of the earthquake is also the sign of movement. And that movement is a bowel movement. And one movement in the middle of the sacrificed heart is the victor excreting on the vanquished and treating them with scorn and contempt. The scroll protrudes from the nether part and says that the victors are speaking words of excrement, that verbal diarrhoea issues from their lips. And the serpent has no feathers; it cannot fly. It is as a snake treacherous and bitter, crawling on the ground. The head of the serpent is two tongued and tells of treachery and of deceit. The flint is attached to a heart; it speaks of the heart that is as hard as flint, knowing no mercy. And at the end that heart will receive no mercy in its turn.”

Figures on the codex page take on a fresh life. They walk and strut, nod their heads, move their limbs. The sun climbs in the sky. Shadows shorten. Footsteps march steadily across the page from right to left. I blow a kiss to the piggy-back bride and she waves back.

Too much, too early. I reach for the remains of last night’s bottle of mescal and gulp them down. Order is restored. The cartoon figures go back to sleep. Normality, whatever that may be, returns.