THE RENUNCIATION
By Edgardo Rodriguez Julia
Translated From the Spanish
By Andrew Hurley
Four Walls Eight Windows. 136 pp. $18

Go to the first chapter of "The Renunciation"

Go to Chapter One




Antihero Of the Revolution

By Jim Polk
Sunday, November 30, 1997; Page X11
The Washington Post

In a world that appears to require a whole series of minor adjustments and small compromises to function smoothly, is it possible to remain pure, an inflexible absolutist so dedicated to principle that even the least departure seems like total surrender? This question, worthy of George Bernard Shaw, looms over the pages of this short, fascinating novel.

Presented as a series of academic lectures delivered by an unnamed professor, The Renunciation (translated by Andrew Hurley) is the story of Baltasar Montaez, a black man in 18th-century Puerto Rico. The son of an authentic hero and martyr -- leader of a slave revolt in 1734 -- Baltasar first renounces his lineage (and, not incidentally, his father) by happily becoming a pawn in Machiavellian machinations to restore racial harmony. Great power and high position accrue to him for his betrayal.

But neither sits well (although he is indifferent to the betrayal), and he renounces both to become "the purest, most enlightened, and most wickedly evil of men," a man rigorously true to himself at the expense of all others. Though filled with self-discovery and incipient genius, his life is also a wild descent into madness.

Baltasar's battle for his own soul begins when he is plucked from the cane fields by the scheming Bishop Jose Larra, whose design is to make him an imaginary hero and wed him to a daughter of white colonial power, thus restoring tranquillity between races on the island. Although the father of the intended damsel objects, the Catholic Church, the colonial authorities and Baltasar himself approve, so the deed is done.

But once it is, the real drama begins. Edgardo Rodriguez Julia, the author of 11 works of fiction of which this is the first to appear in English, is less interested in the historical than in the human aspects of his narrative. Near the outset of the lecture series, his professor declares that Baltasar is important not just because of his impact on Puerto Rico but as an exemplar of the mortal station in life, one who "stands as testimony to the darkest, most obscure, most veiled aspects of human nature."

So all the plotting, racial unrest and bloodletting are nowhere near as important to the author's intention as is how Baltasar shapes his destiny. He begins at the center of the lie Bishop Larra has created, by taking charge of the wedding ceremony and dragging his young, innocent and apparently terrified bride down into the masses of wildly celebrating blacks. This act not only -- to white eyes -- humiliates her but also transforms the intended sham into something serious and threatening to the colonial power brokers, who watch aghast.

Baltasar then has peculiar visions of the island's future (which he details in reports to the bishop), conducts sexual orgies within the sight and hearing of his further debased wife, and finally exchanges both office and title for a prison cell. This second renunciation, that of power and prestige, leads to a gruesome bloodbath, as the island's blacks, denied their invented hero, erupt in a murderous orgy of revenge. Desperate, the colonial establishment suddenly needs its symbol of tranquility back if it is to rebuild the towers of illusion that keep the violence at bay. In a deeply ironic and comical perversion of the Temptation of Christ, Bishop Larra himself visits the prisoner and lays before him lush promises of sexual and gluttonous rewards.

For Rodriguez Julia, his protagonist has come to symbolize both the Puerto Rican and the human condition. The tension that this inspired lunatic creates between involvement with the world and involvement with the self makes us wonder if it is indeed possible to live according to one's own reality, renouncing the baggage of living in a shared culture. After reading the contemporary accounts and the modern epic verse written in Baltasar's honor included in the lectures, the question remains hanging. As perhaps it must.

Jim Polk frequently writes about Latin American and Caribbean literature.

© Copyright 1997 The Washington Post Company

Back to the top


WashingtonPost.com
Navigation image map
Home page Site Index Search Help! Home page Site Index Search Help!