I, the Supreme
![]() The cover of the first US edition of the novel's translation, published by Alfred A. Knopf. | |
Author | Augusto Roa Bastos |
---|---|
Original title | 'Yo el supremo' |
Translator | Helen Lane |
Language | Spanish |
Genre | Historical novel, Dictator novel |
Publication date | 1974 |
Publication place | Paraguay |
Published in English | 1986 |
Media type | Print (Hardback & Paperback) |
ISBN | ISBN 1-56478-247-6 Parameter error in {{ISBNT}}: invalid character |
I, the Supreme (orig. Spanish Yo el supremo) is a historical novel written by exiled Paraguayan author Augusto Roa Bastos. It is a fictionalized account of the nineteenth-century Paraguayan dictator José Gaspar Rodríguez de Francia, who was also known as "Dr. Francia." The book's title derives from the fact that Francia referred to himself as "El Supremo" or "the Supreme." The first in a long line of dictators, the Supreme was a severe, calculating despot.[1]
The novel's publication was, in critic Gerald Martin's words, "an exceptional cultural phenomenon." Martin goes on to suggest that it was "more immediately and unanimously acclaimed than any novel since One Hundred Years of Solitude, [and its] strictly historical importance [may] be even greater than that of García Márquez's fabulously successful creation."[2]
I, the Supreme belongs to the genre of novelas de dictadores or dictator novels, and also to the Latin American Boom, a literary movement of the 1960's and 1970's.[3] The book was first published in Spanish in 1974, and in English (translation by Helen Lane) in 1986.
Historical context
After declaring independence from colonial Spain in 1811, land-locked Paraguay established itself as the First Republic of the South. Dr. Francia was elected by the junta (or congress) to office and he established himself as dictator for life, until his death in 1840. He ruled with a despotic populism in which the ideals he had drawn from the philosophers of the French Enlightenment were tempered by his aristocratic insistence on absolute rule.[4] As John T. Deiner explains, he "created an army in which all citizens were required to serve. He confiscated property from the upper classes and used the state's coercive power to direct the working of that land by the army."[5] He also isolated the country from the outside world, restricting foreign trade and mobility. Political opposition was not tolerated.
Francia's rule was the beginning of a long line of dictators, including Carlos Antonio López (who was president of Paraguay with dictatorial powers from 1844 to 1862) and López's son, Francisco Solano López (who ruled between 1862 and 1870). It was Solano López who unwisely initiated the War of the Triple Alliance (1865-79), which crippled Paraguay, reduced its population by half, and forced many others into exile, creating a Paraguay that Roa Bastos described as "the land without men of the men without land."[6]
In the twentieth-century, Paraguay was dominated by the dictatorial figure of Alfredo Stroessner, who ruled the country for forty-five years (from 1954 to 1989) and was in power at the time at which Roa Bastos was writing I, the Supreme. Roa Bastos's novel can be perceived as in part a thinly disguised attack on Stroessner, who ruled Paraguay even longer than Francia. He came to power after the 1947 Civil War, which had destroyed all parties of the centre and the left and drove more than a third of Paraguay's population into exile. He assumed presidency after a series of coups in 1954. He gained complete control of the military, eliminated potential rivals, and closely monitored and participated in allocations of national resources. As Deiner argues, "The novel’s El Supremo (Francia) and Stroessner in the twentieth century used similar methods for dominating national politics. Neither tolerated effective opposition. Both rulers were extremely suspicious of any potential opponents, quickly acting to imprison and torture anyone suspected. Both were ruthless in their intolerance of dissent."[7] As Rowe and Whitfield describe Stroessner's rule, "he inherited all Francia's despotism, but none of his populism [. . .] he rule[d] over a country where human and civil rights are honored only in their breach."[8]
Influences
I, the Supreme is influenced by twentieth-century Argentinean writer Macedonio Fernández, as well as other avant garde artists such as Jorge Luis Borges and Julio Cortázar. They are similar in use of metaphysical language and techniques used to reconstruct reality, as Dr. Francia does in his dictated creation of the Supreme, the ruler of all reality. Macedonio's writing utilized characters that did not fit the archetype of Western fiction, each only having meaning through their interaction with others in a collective and often never experiencing growth or development in order to construct atemporal spaces of mythmaking that challenge reality. Roa Bastos borrows from these ideas yet situates them in existing political and social history to challenge perceived conceptions of the past's factuality. He dismantles national Paraguayan mythology which is so intimately intertwined with the life of Dr. Francia, elucidating the distinctions between mythic and mythological. The novel can only accomplish this task within the metaphysical space of mythmaking. Whereas Macedonio attacks the concept of the individual as subject while admitting the fact that to write makes oneself a subject, Roa Bastos recognizes this paradox and exploits it, utilizing it in concerns of political and social nature.[9]
Themes from Plato and his influence on Western political philosophy are also prevalent in the novel.[10] Mainly, the debate over the nature of 'Good Society' and how to achieve it are seen in the positions of the Supreme. He argues that it is the ruler's role, as well as his duty and obligation, to bring about the good society, and this can only be done by the imposition of absolute order from above. The dictator’s job is to bring about the Good Society, to impose the needed order, and the people’s job is to obey the dictator, thereby enjoying the fruits of the good society. The result of such behavior by both the ruler and the ruled will be good for everyone.[10]
The novel is also clearly influenced by earlier writing on dictatorship, predominantly Domingo Sarmiento's Facundo.[11] The similarities can be seen in how both novels are written by exiles, in their thinly veiled attacks on their homeland's current dictator, and in their shared use of 'pasquinade/hand-written message' devices to begin both novels. Francia's "Perpetual Circular" also contains several allusions to the Argentine gaucho Juan Facundo Quiroga, as well as to the dictator Juan Manuel de Rosas, both of whom were the object of Sarmiento's critique.[11]
Genre
I, the Supreme is a good example of the dictator novel.[12] The dictator novel (Spanish: novela del dictador) is a genre of Latin American literature that developed the theme of caudillismo (a political-military leader at the head of an authoritarian regime) by specifically challenging the role of the dictator in Latin American society. Its hallmarks include a concern with the relationship between writing and power, and so is an allegory for the role of the (Latin American) writer in society.
The goal of the dictator novel is not to dissect and to analyze the rule of particular dictators with a focus on historical accuracy, but rather, to examine the more abstract nature of authority figures, and to question the idea of authority in general.[13] To be considered a dictator novel, a book must have strong political themes that draw upon historical accounts, while critically examining the power held by an authoritarian figure, allowing the specific to explain the general. Therefore, these novels, while they may centre around one historical dictator do not, for example, analyze the economics, politics, and rule of a regime in the same way that a history book might. Although mostly associated with the Latin American Boom of the 1960s and ‘70s, this genre has roots that go back as far as Domingo Faustino Sarmiento’s Facundo in 1845.
The Boom novels were essentially modernist novels. They treated time as nonlinear, often used more than one perspective or narrative voice and featured a great number of neologisms, puns and even profanities. The Latin American Boom (Boom Latinoamericano) was a literary movement of the 1960s and 1970s when the work of a group of relatively young Latin American novelists became widely circulated in Europe and throughout the world. Influenced by European and North American Modernism, but also by the Latin American Vanguardia movement, these writers challenged the established conventions of Latin American literature. Their work is experimental and, owing to the political climate of the Latin America of the 1960s, also very political. [1]
Style
I, the Supreme is a dense, complicated novel that requires considerable reader involvement. Critic Helene Weldt-Basson suggests that symbolism plays an important role in the novel, one that goes hand-in-hand with the complexity of the writing. She references Tzvetan Todorov's theory of symbolism in literature which suggests that "[there is an] inseparability of symbolism and interpretation. They are, for me, simply two aspects of a single phenomenon."[14] This theory dovetails quite well with the multiple meanings associated with different objects in I, the Supreme.
Although the novel is a dialogue between the Supreme and his secretary, Patiño, there are in fact at least six different types of narration in the text: notebook entries, transcriptions of dialogues, a logbook, the "voice" of the Supreme's father, two documents, and the installments of the perpetual circular, which is ostensibly the main project Patiño and Dr. Francia are working on.[15] In addition to these different layers of narrative, there are also three possible authors: Roa Bastos, the author-compiler, and the "implied author". The latter refers to the "behavior, attitudes, and backgrounds [. . .] necessary for a proper understanding of the text."[16] The multitude of possibilities regarding the author and the shift between types of narratives, combined with an absence of quotation marks, contribute to this book being described as "undoubtedly, [the author's] most complicated work to date."[17]
Further complicating matters is the fact that the Supreme's "voice echoes back and forth in time—recalling his birth and his youth, only to jump ahead to the future, speaking [from] beyond the grave about the flies that disturb his corpse, the bandits who dare to disturb his sleep."[18]
Synopsis
I, the Supreme is mostly composed of real texts by or about Francia. These range from personal memoirs by historical Paraguayan figures to passages from books written by Europeans in Paraguay at the time.[19] They are arranged by a 'Compiler' whose footnotes tell the story of how the book was put together. The body of the novel is composed of a polemical collection of versions of Paraguayan history. The first text is what the Supreme dictates to his assistant Patiño, about what is happening in the present. This includes the constant abuses Francia heaps upon Patiño and their attempts to discover the authors of a pasquinade, found nailed to the door of the Asunción Cathedral, that falsely announces Francia's death and burial arrangements. It is mostly Francia's vulgar rambling, including accusing meek Patiño of attempting to usurp him. The author of the pasquinade is never discovered in spite of their high scrutiny.[19]
The second text is the "Circular Perpetual" that Francia also dictates to Patiño. It is his version of the origins of Paraguayan history, particularly of how he came to power. These texts are highly annotated by the editor, for in them Francia "corrects" versions given by other historical figures, not to mention those given by European travelers.[11]
Finally, there is what Francia writes himself in his "Private Notebook," which is mostly an account of his own life, attempts to write fiction, diatribes against Patiño and his kind, philosophical musings and ramblings, and other sundry exercises. All of these texts have been edited, for one finds in them, besides the footnotes, indications in italics and within brackets such as "on the margin it is written," "there is a hole in the paper here," etc. So that while they do not compose a homogeneous text, held together by the rhetorical power of a narrative voice, and in fact are anything but homogeneous, these texts bear the presence of the editor in these discrete marks and indications.[11]
In spite of the mixing of temporal settings and the weaving of narratives, the novel ends at the end of Francia's life, with him condemning Patiño to death for supposedly plotting against him, followed by Francia's death in a fire in 1840.
Characters
![](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/6/6c/Jos%C3%A9_Gaspar_Rodr%C3%ADguez_de_Francia.jpg/220px-Jos%C3%A9_Gaspar_Rodr%C3%ADguez_de_Francia.jpg)
Dr. Francia (the Supreme)
Dr. Francia is the character the book is named after. José Gaspar Rodríguez de Francia or "Dr. Francia" is undoubtedly the main focus of the book, although not in a bibliographic sense. Most of the book is dedicated to his dictates to his secretary, Patiño. The Supreme is a domineering man, frequently belittling his closest confidant. He is also an infirm man, as the book is set a short time before his death on September 20th, 1840. Roa Bastos's portrayal of him walks the line between praise and condemnation. While other authors of dictator novels clearly present their dictators as villains, Roa Bastos makes it unclear as to whether he is defending him or not.[20] As Roberto Gonzalez Echevarria writes, the Supreme is "constant[ly] [worried] about writing. {This} stems from the fact that he has found and used the power implicit in language itself. The Supreme defines power as being able to do through others what we are unable to do ourselves: language, being separate from what it designates, is the very embodiment of power."[11]
The Supreme is also revealed to be power-crazed in non-writing related ways. Michiko Kakutani writes "Francia, it seems, wants to account for everything (his own history, as well as the history of his nation, which he personifies as its leader) as he pours out his story, it becomes clear that he possesses an insatiable desire for power and control- he has even chained a huge meteorite to his desk, as punishment for being a cosmic runaway- and that he also sees himself as two separate beings: as a conniving, paranoiac "I", beset by the average ego's fears and doubts, and as the "Supreme", a monstrously powerful presence that even Francia himself must refer to in the third person."[21] The Supreme was personally involved in the affairs of the state to such extent, that it was reported by contemporary press that "[He] personally trained his cavalry in the use of the saber, ascertained the exact number of nails in Fort Orange, awarded 102 pesos to a Frenchman whose anchor had been melted down by the state... lowered the price of salt in the capital, donated state yerba to the people of Saladillo, and denied permission for [someone] to marry in Villa Rica." It was common for him to attend to such specific details in a single evening.[22]
Policarpo Patiño
Policarpo Patiño is the Supreme's secretary and amanuensis. Patiño was an "efficient and loyal" servant, [who] became government secretary and served the Supreme until his death. A jack of all trades, Patiño arranged audiences, transcribed documents, visited the jails, and conferred with the Dictator on most routine matters. Toward the end of [The Supreme's] life, and presumably with his knowledge, Patiño began signing some official documents that did not bear his master's signature."[23] Much of the book consists of dialogue between the Supreme and his secretary, which Policarpo records as he writes what is dictated to him. In Roberto González Echevarría's words, "Patiño is the quintessential writer."[24] There is, however, some debate about how powerful Patiño actually was. Initially possessing a more powerful role, the Supreme's "personal control over virtually the entirety of [the state]" led to Patiño quickly being demoted from "Government Secretary and scribe" to simply a record keeper.[25] There is evidence, however, that Patiño wielded considerable influence with the Supreme, as "in 1835 Patiño denounced a slave for attempting to induce an abortion in his daughter and to poison him. A close investigation... turned up [that] the daughter had requested the abortion and Patiño had lied, [yet] he was not jailed, and retained his powerful position.”[23] Yet, despite his influence, Patiño is frequently the victim of the Supreme's abuse, even having his own death sentence dictated to him, although in the end he outlives his master. Despite the seeming 'Supremacy' of Dr. Francia, Echevevarria questions whether "[Patino] [had] the last laugh? Did he achieve some sort of posthumous power?" This is suggested both because he outlived Dr. Francia, and also because the pen ostensibly used to write the book was given to the author by Patiño's descendant. Therefore "the editor, who arranges the various texts and annotates them, who thereby exercises final authority over Dr. Francia's versions of himself, is the heir of Policarpo Patiño."[11] The power relationship between the Supreme and his secretary is a microcosm of the book as a whole, with Dr. Francia dominating Patiño completely, even though the latter is intimately associated with the dictator having power at all, given the power he derives from writing.
Themes
The novel revolves around a central theme of language - written and oral, truth and myth - and the power inherent in all of its forms, a power that is often only present in the deconstruction of communication. González Echevarria argues that "Dr. Francia's fear of the pasquinade, his abuse of [Patiño,] his constant worry about writing all stem from the fact that he has found and used the power implicit in language itself. The Supreme defines power as being able to do through others what we are unable to do ourselves: language, being separate from what it designates, is the very embodiment of power, for things act and mean through it without ceasing to be themselves. Dr. Francia has also realized that he cannot control language, particularly written language, that it has a life of its own that threatens him."[26]
The novel's format, its various multiple sources, its manipulation of linear time and its inclusion of supernatural elements (talking dogs and meteor rifles, for example) all serve to deconstruct the idea of absolute power, by creating an ambiguity between fact and myth, between Dr Francia and the Supreme, and between Roa Bastos and the Compiler. Francia places himself above all power and history: "I don't write history. I make it. I can remake it as I please, adjusting, emphasising, enriching its meaning and truth."[citation needed] Yet in the Compiler's notes and retelling of events, the novel is presented as a genuine version of history, one that contradicts and questions the Supreme's. In their collectivity, they deny the illusion of absolute power, whether the power is that of Francia the dictator or Roa Bastos the writer.[27] This ambiguity between myth and fact is elaborated on in at the end of the novel in the fictional debate over the Supreme's remains; it questions the nature of national political myth, and how heroes and villains are created in it and where the Supreme falls into those categories after being portrayed as both by Roa Bastos.[28] As Deiner poses the question raised by the novel, "Is he to be portrayed as a valiant leader who held the country together in the face of enormous external aggression, or as a despot who laid the basis for almost two centuries of exploitation of Paraguay’s peoples by its leaders?"[28] The answer is not so much of importance to the novel, so much as the fact that the question itself exists, thereby confirming the power of writing over so called "absolute" power.
The power of linguistic domination is present in the novel. Paraguay is the most bilingual country in Latin America where, as of 1962, 52% spoke the indigenous language Guarani as well as Spanish, only 5% only spoke Spanish, whereas 43% spoke only Guarani which is essentially a language of oral culture.[29] As Roa Bastos himself claims, "this inevitably leads the Paraguayan writer to the necessity of creating a literature that goes beyond literature, of speaking against the word, or writing against writing."[30] At the time of I, the Supreme the majority of the people spoke Guarani while Spanish was the dominant political language. As Deiner argues, "El Supremo is aware of the difficulties of incorporating rural and underclass Paraguayans into the national political system, even though he is sympathetic toward them. But the common person, the Guarani speaker, remains unheard. Roa Bastos cleverly demonstrates this political isolation/marginalization by constantly introducing Guarani phrases, phrases which are incomprehensible to most readers, phrases from a spoken, not written language. The phrases are there in a sort of ghostly form, hanging in air, denying full participation in the novel to the reader, and thus causing the reader to empathize with real world Paraguayan citizens who are denied political participation by their political rulers."[31]
On a more basic level, the novel also has political themes to it. As John Deiner writes, "I, The Supreme is a surprisingly political novel. It is a commentary on Paraguay's first great political leader... and a condemnation of the countries last, General Alfredo Stroessner."[28] He contends that the political system and occurrences in I, the Supreme can be seen as symbolic of that of other Paraguayan leaders.[32] Suggesting the book is connected to more recent leaders of Paraguay, Deiner writes "although ostensibly a fictionalized account of the life of El Supremo, the novel is also a thinly disguised attack on the politics and rule of Alfredo Stroessner, [the dictator] ruling Paraguay at the time I, the Supreme was published (in exile) in 1974."[33] In summary, Deiner suggest that the novel "serves as the quintessential example of the personalist dictator model of Latin American political systems. Francia's was one of the earliest versions of this model, and Stroessner's was one of the last personalist dictator regimes."[34]
Reception
Gerald Martin observes that "the publication of I the Supreme in 1974 was an exceptional cultural phenomenon." He goes on to note that Roa Bastos's novel "was more immediately and unanimously acclaimed than any novel since One Hundred Years of Solitude, and critics seemed to suspect that its strictly historical importance might be even greater than that of García Márquez's fabulously successful creation."[35]
As critic John King notes, "it is impossible to summarize this extraordinary novel in a few lines. It incorporates the latest developments in linguistic theory and practice, talks of the arbitrariness and unreliability of language that purports to describe reality, rereads and comments upon the various histories and travelers’ accounts of Paraguay, ranges across the breadth of Latin American history, implicitly condemning Stroessner and debating with Fidel Castro, and exploring once again the gap between writer and reader."[36]
The Stroessner government did not react kindly to this or others of Roa Bastos's writings. On a rare visit to Paraguay from France in 1982, he was denounced as a "Marxist subversive" and became "one of the three citizens forbidden to return."[37]
Outside Paraguay, those Roa Bastos's works never became best-sellers like those of other members of the Boom such as Gabriel García Márquez or Mario Vargas Llosa, yet as a recognition of his literary prestige he was awarded the Miguel de Cervantes Prize in 1989. This is the most prestigious literary award in the Spanish-speaking world, and honors the lifetime achievement of an outstanding writer in the Spanish language.[38]
And in the English-speaking world, the British critic Bernard Levin said about reading I, the Supreme upon its translation in 1986 that "he had read the book with an exhilaration similar to 'climbing Everest twice in one weekend.'"[39] Michiko Kakutani, writing for the New York Times, also remarked in that year that "however cumbersome and rhetorical I The Supreme may often feel, the novel remains a prodigious meditation not only on history and power, but on the nature of language itself."[40]
Also in 1986 Carlos Fuentes, for the New York Times, wrote of Roa Bastos: "He is his country's most eminent writer; his works are few, self-contained (very Paraguayan) and brilliantly written. Yet his masterpiece, I the Supreme, which first came out in Spanish in 1974 and finally reaches the English-reading public now, in a masterly translation by Helen Lane, is the kind of summa that absorbs everything that the writer has done before. This is Mr. Roa Bastos' dialogue with himself through history and through a monstrous historical figure whom he has to imagine and understand if he is ever to imagine and understand himself and his people."[3]
About the 12 year delay between the book's initial publication in Spanish and its translation into English, Fuentes reports that Roa Bastos had this to say: "The book has been published in almost all the principal languages of the world, including Japanese and Chinese. [. . .] In Europe, it has only not been translated into Finnish and Albanian." He also stated that "he was intrigued that Americans 'would start with the work of mine considered the most difficult.'"[3]
Notes
- ^ Hoyt Williams 1979, p. 99
- ^ Martin 1989, p. 278
- ^ a b c Fuentes 1986
- ^ Rowe & Whitfield 1987, p. 242
- ^ Deiner 1999, p. 105
- ^ qtd. Rowe & Whitfield 1987, p. 243
- ^ Deiner 1999, p. 106
- ^ Rowe & Whitfield 1987, p. 243
- ^ Garth 1996, p. ??
- ^ a b Deiner 1999, p. 108
- ^ a b c d e f González Echevarría 1980, p. 217
- ^ Keefe Ugalde, p. 369
- ^ González Echevarría 1985, p. 64
- ^ Weldt-Bason 1993, p. 77
- ^ Oberhelman 1994, p. 450
- ^ Weldt-Bason 1993, p. 219
- ^ Oberhelman 1994, p. 450
- ^ Kakutani 1986
- ^ a b González Echevarría 1980, p. 216
- ^ Foster 1994, p. ???
- ^ Kakutani 1986
- ^ Hoyt Williams 1979, p. 82
- ^ a b Hoyt Williams 1979, p. 86 But where does this quotation start??
- ^ González Echevarría 1985, p. 80
- ^ Hoyt Williams 1979, p. 81
- ^ González Echevarría 1980, p. 217 Emphasis added.
- ^ Rowe & Whitfield 1987, p. 245
- ^ a b c Deiner 1999, p. 115
- ^ Rowe & Whitfield 1987, p. 243
- ^ qtd.?? Rowe & Whitfield 1987, p. 243
- ^ Deiner 1999, p. 112
- ^ Deiner 1999, p. 116
- ^ Deiner 1999, p. 107
- ^ Deiner 1999, p. 106
- ^ Martin 1989, p. 278
- ^ King 1987, p. 297
- ^ Rowe & Whitfield 1987, p. 245
- ^ "Premio "Miguel de Cervantes"". Ministry of Culture (in Spanish). Government of Spain. Retrieved 2008-03-16.
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(help) - ^ Caistor 2005
- ^ Kakutani 1986
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(help)CS1 maint: date and year (link). Trans. Barbara E. Pierce. - Buffery, Helena (August 30, 2005), "Roa Bastos and the Question of Cultural Translatability (Or How Does One Get to Paraguay?)", Dissidences. Hispanic Journal of Theory and Criticism, retrieved 2008-03-06
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value: invalid character (help). - González Echevarría, Roberto (1980). "The Dictatorship of Rhetoric / The Rhetoric of Dictatorship: Carpentier, García Márquez, and Roa Bastos". Latin American Research Review. 15 (3): 205–228. Retrieved ??.
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value: length (help). - Hoyt Williams, John (1979), The Rise and Fall of the Paraguayan Republic, Austin: University of Texas Press, ISBN ??
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- Martin, Gerald (1989), Journeys through the Labyrinth: Latin American Fiction in the Twentieth Century, London: Verso, ISBN ??
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value: invalid character (help). - Oberhelman, Harley D. (1994), "Review of Helen Weldt-Basson's Augusto Roa Bastos's I, the Supreme", Hispania, 77 (3): 450–451, retrieved ??
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(help)CS1 maint: date and year (link). - Weldt-Basson, Helene Carol (1993), Augusto Roa Bastos's I the Supreme: A Dialogical Perspective, Columbia: University of Missouri Press, ISBN ??
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