Welcome to Week 3, in which are found the disparate comments of the mug-net inclined, along with other unexpected epistles. Speaking of which, 26 people are still mug-net qualified. Jinkies!
On each of these ‘marches so far, I’ve especially dug the end of Week 2 — past page 100, the book starts to take hold. From last week’s comments, it sounds like a lot of us were applauding Chapters 12-14, with the build up to Marcela’s soliloquoy (if you prick her, does she not bleed?) followed by a shining moment for DQ: “Let no person, whatever his circumstance or condition, dare to follow the beautiful Marcela lest he fall victim to my fury and outrage.” Not that she needs his help, or that anyone’s even necessarily paying attention. But still, that’s our Don!
And then there’s Chapter XV, with what has to be my favorite line so far: “I wish I had enough breath to speak with less effort and that the pain I feel in this rib would ease just a little so that I could make clear to you, Panza, how wrong you are.” If this was the ’70s, I’d slap that puppy on a t-shirt, and my fortune would be made.
All in all, it’s been a real treat so far, and I’m glad to have so many excellent ‘marchers along for the trek.
Next Wednesday: We careen on, with vigor! Let’s meet up on page 172 at the end of Chapter XXII, just before what I’m told is one of the strangest adventures recounted in this true history.
Sancho may be the man most obsessed with numbers that I have ever seen… “What a devil of vengeance can we pretend to take, when they are more than twenty, and we but two? nay, I believe, if it was put to the test, no better than one and a half.” “In how many days does your worship think we shall be able to move our feet?” “Two such harvests will leave us altogether incapable of reaping a third.” Victor Borge would be proud!
I’m with Cecil in loving that speech by Marcela. In Cervantes’s crude world of smashed molars, growling stomachs, and insistent sexual threat, I thought her self-defence was a rare moment of true (feminist?) dignity.
The whole incident bizarrely mirrors the Don’s own situation, if distortedly: these two rich people dressing up as shepherds to live out some pastoral fantasy they’ve read about in literature, or maybe (in Marcela’s case, as perhaps in DQ’s) just to escape a bland, ugly world. Is Cervantes skewering another genre here–the “back to nature” pastoral dream–by showing its dark side? The way books of chivalry get exposed as props to some pretty ugly social codes–knight vs. commoner, Christian vs. Moor–that don’t entirely hold up in the real world? It feels like the gap between Grisostomo’s lame poem and the real facts of the case (which end with someone dead, btw, the ultimate reality) are meant to reflect somehow on DQ’s own predicament. Or am I all wet? The crazy noble Don as half-Marcela, half-Grisostomo? Either way, he’s a lot more complex than I remembered him from the musical.
Cecil, I think we’re pretty much settled on a magnet or a coffee mug but having that T-shirt at the end of this March would just rule. 🙂
Delusional as he may be, the Don seems to have a good instinct for which side to take in a given situation: Marcela, or the kid he tries to save from a whipping (results notwithstanding). He makes errors of fact, not of emotion. That’s part of his appeal as a character, I think.
I really like So-Called Bill’s comment about the Don making errors of fact but not of emotion. In god-awful Hollywood screenwriting speak, it’s the trait that makes the Don “sympathetic.” Which leads me to my next point – I keep thinking about John Kennedy Toole’s “A Confederacy of Dunces” when reading DQ and am wondering whether JKT wasn’t influenced by DQ when writing. The humor and tone seem similar to me and so does the man-out-in-the-world-seeking-adventure-and-offending-all theme. Also – Ignatius seems to me in a certain way a DQ turned on its head.
Does anyone else see this at all?
I see a lot of Cervantes influence in “Tom Jones.” Of the first generation of British novelists (Defoe, Fielding & Richardson) Fielding was the only true satirist. He was also the most episodic as Cervantes is proving to be.
For this 3rd week I’m posting something to meet my contractural obligation to maintain qualification for the mug or magnet or whatever. But I don’t want to refer to something that might come after the assigned pages. I’ve been listening to the recorded books version while traveling, and since I’ve been doing a lot of traveling, I’m actually on CD 33 out of 35, almost done. But since I’m out of town all week & my wife is reading the book version at home, I don’t have access to the printed version to refresh my memory on exactly what happens in the assigned chapters. I’ll strive to make a profound contribution next week to make up.
I was totally confused as to where we’re supposed to be cuz I’m working from a Wordsworth Classics edition — After studying the ToC of the version Cecil’s reading (courtesy of Amazon) I think I’m a lil ahead — Yey!
I’m kinda curious as to how much people tend to read in one sitting. The prose is pretty dense, so I find myself taking frequent breaks — or else I’ll lose concentration. Anyone?
Hey GLG,
fwiw, I’ve been reading in small bites — one to two chapters in a sitting….. it makes for an excellent commute or coffee shop read.
-Cecil
dq as a character is like the hooker with the heart of gold. always reassuring to find goodness within otherness. but is this the “first modern novel” because it goes deeper than that? being a laggard, i’m a long way from finding out, but i’m curious.
now about those tee-shirts with the magnetized mugcessory….
I’m reading in small chunks–a chapter or two at a time. The rain has kept me off my motorcycle, so I’m back to BART for my commute to SF, which has made it possible for me to keep apace.
This new section is making me wonder whether Mr. Panza is going to ever put his foot down and completely opt out of DQ’s craziness–or if DQ will just always find a way of sucking him back in.
There definitely is something oddly “sympathetic” about DQ, for sure. And not just because he’s now losing his teeth along with all his other miseries. The “heart of gold” indeed. But now that I’ve just passed the chapter where he attacks those poor priests carrying the dead body, I wonder: Is he ever actually going to do anything right–results wise– in his chivalric pursuits?
Well, Im finding both DQ and Sancho sympathetic, though Im not always sure why. I like the “heart of gold” notion, but does it fit perfectly? Sancho often seems motivated by the promise of money, insula or fear. I had been seeing DQ as pursuing noble principles, if not using the smartest or most strategic methods. One of these virtuous principles was doing honor to his Dulcinea. But then in chapter XXI, he goes off on this vision of meeting and falling in love with a princess, not Dulcinea, and Sancho is offered the hope of getting together with the lady in waiting. They seem a little too into this idea, given DQ is supposedly mad for Dulcinea, and Sancho has a family.
Im afraid I cannot condone such behavoir. And yet, I still love you DQ! And I like you too Sancho!
Hmm…I don’t think anyone has mentioned our beloved Rocinante who seems to have an unexpected wandering eye “for the ladies” (the “Galician” ponies). Sancho is totally amazed that he has underestimated Rocinante’s “character.” Doesn’t this fit snugly into the whole “appearances deceive” theme of the whole book so far?
Any book that has the two main characters (SPOILER ALERT!) vomiting all over each other is a book that speaks to my heart.
Thank you, Miguel Cervantes!
Oooh, I’m a little behind, but I can’t wait to read the vomiting scene! Sounds like a good time. I’m going to play catch up tonight and will post more tomorrow. Jeff: I’m glad to hear you’re not reading DQ on your motorcycle!
Jeff — in that case, I think you’d also enjoy “Pride and Prejudice.”
-Cecil
If you like the vomiting scene just wait until you get to the poo scene. Who knew?
Here’s a (perhaps vague) extention on the comment on Marcela being perhaps a side of the DQ character. On page 129 (Grossman) DQ remarks to Sancho Panza that, “It is your fear, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “that keeps you from seeing or hearing properly, because one of the effects of fear is to cloud the senses and make things appear other than they are…” Here’s a comment from DQ’s own lips that gives us a clue to his psychology – a clue that the narrator has not given us directly. Don Quixote is afraid, yet another characteristic that makes him sympathetic. This is a hallmark of the modern novel; the exploration of internal psychological process, the life of the mind, not so much about who went where and said what.
I am unable to conjure up sympathy, empathy or any other “pathy” for these characters. Some explain it to me! And the interest beyond — because of — the Three Stooges behaviour? Help me understand what you folks are enjoying.
Well, as to Sancho, its hip to be squire.
Sorry.
Coralyn, I know where you’re coming from. The stories have what seems like cartoon violence, and in a cartoon, when someone gets run over by a steamroller or smashed after a fall off the cliff, they get right back up and reconstitute. Seems to happen that way here, too, but it’s just real enough–the bloody mouth, the lopped ear, the bruises everywhere–that it mixes up the humor of the situation with the pain.
I agree with Coralyn. I’m having a heck of a time with the sympathy factor that so many others are feeling. I find much of it almost too comical to feel sympathy. Or something.
on the swirling debate, fwiw, a lot of my enjoyment o’ the book so far has come just from the simple fun of reading something from 400 years ago and being surprised at various points by the modern flavor of it all. And the grayness we’ve seen so far re both DQ and SP — neither of them set up 100% as just a hero or fool or villain, but each a bit of a believable, human mix.
The other thing I’d add is that this “but am I enjoying this?” question has come up with each of our DMs so far. And that’s, for me at least, part of the appeal of the ride. These tend to be books that I would have had a little trouble getting all the way through on my own, for one reason or another. And one of the chief pleasures of these treks has been just that — getting to the end of works we might have otherwise put aside, and experiencing firsthand all the points along the way.
In this case, I’m betting the next 800 pages won’t just be a series of scenes with SP & DQ getting pulverized slowly to dust. Now I could be wrong of course. But there’s only one way to find out…..
-Cecil
First, I have to admit I spent way too much time after Coralyn’s post with the completely beside-the-point contemplation of which Stooges Don and Sancho would be. At first it seemed obvious that Don would be Moe, what with being the ringleader and all, and that Sancho would be Larry (hapless, bewildered, a bit stupid), or possibly Curly (wisenheimer). But upon further consideration, you could make a strong case that Don is, in fact, Larry. Or Curly. One thing for sure is that neither of them is Shemp. On that I think there will be no criticial disagreement.
To the matter at hand: I see where Coralyn’s coming from, too. The broad humor (and violence) is so strong that it can become a distraction, and render these characters a bit too cartoony for any kind of symp/empathy. Plus, I have wanted to whack them both in the head my own self for their own repeated stupidity. Hey Sancho–go home already! The guy’s a loon!
But I guess what’s keeping me going (err, beyond the mug) is this hope, and notion, that somehow, despite the insanity of their goals, they will find some kind of peace, or success, or fulfillment. Maybe I just see their idiocy mirroring my own…
Yes, I agree–the violence is difficult at times. I feel the same way reading Chaucer. The disregard for human life–not that it’s relegated to only the past by any means–s jarring. Slavery (it’s strange to think that Cervantes was enslaved for several years and hard to imagine someone surviving that and then going on to accomplish what he did–it’s so mythic), torture, etc. were a harsh reality. Public executions were entertainment with vendors selling the equivalent of popcorn and people bringing their children to watch. I agree with Cecil that it’s that sort of challenge that makes DQ a deathmarch and much more of a learning experience in some ways.
What really endears Don Quixote to me is that he is dead-set and determined to be part of something grand, and is willing to endure any hardship in pursuit of that goal. OK, so the results are ridiculous at best and destructive at worst, but still, I can’t help but admire the drive.
I am really enjoying the detail Cervantes gives to other characters’ reactions to DQ. The story is less about DQ and more about everyone he encounters and how they react to his insanity. I find a lot of the garble between Sancho and DQ boring, but when one of them ends up telling a story it gets more interesting. I’m reading it for the peripheral action.
I’m woefully behind, but the mugnet beckons and so I post. Will give all a good sense of just how far behind I am by asking, Did anyone else find it odd that God is pretty much absent from the proceedings until DQ suddenly begins his elaborate praise on page 132? DQ certainly has it right that “He is so merciful that He makes… His rain to fall on the unjust and the just” because it’s been raining pretty hard on the old man and Sancho for some time now. Raining blows, that is.
Actually, after the months we’ve had, all of us in the San Francisco area are by now saying… Raining SUCKS.
Listening to all the concern about the Stooge-like behavior thus far reminds us that this is truly a “modern” novel–yes, the Stooges are “modern” AND “Universal!” Admit it, vomit and poo (ya gotta love the fact that Sancho’s buttocks are quite large) are universal, but what’s really modern and universal is Sancho’s experience with Beach Blanket Bingo in the Corral. And isn’t our Don just the voyeur? Also, isn’t our Sancho starting to get sassy, or is it just me?