In 1605 there appeared in the pages of a lengthy fictional narrative penned by a struggling Spanish writer named Miguel de Cervantes, an unlikely couple riding across the windswept plains of La Mancha. A tall, gaunt gentleman in his 50s, scarcely protected by his makeshift armor and carrying a rusty shield and broken lance, balanced precariously on a skeletal horse. At his side, a stout country peasant swayed on a donkey, intermittently chattering and complaining. What led these two contrasting figures to leave their comfortable and sedentary lives in the dusty recesses of Spain's midlands was the gentleman's belief that he had been called upon to emulate the famous knights of old by taking up arms and saving the world.

Don Quixote's imagination is inflamed by romances of chivalry.

To wile away the tedious evenings at home, the old bachelor had sold off parcels of his country estate in exchange for books filled with exciting exploits of chivalry. As he read long into the lonely nights, his imagination filled with these stories until he became convinced that he, too, was meant to right the wrongs of the world. The gentleman, whose name may have been Quejana or Quijano, rummaged for arms among his farm tools, saddled a nag for his steed and, in imitation of his heroes, dubbed himself a knight with the lofty title of Don Quixote de la Mancha. For his squire, he sought out Sancho Panza, a village peasant who, egged on by Don Quixote's desire for adventure and lured by his neighbor's doubtful promise that he would make him governor of an island, eagerly joined the self-appointed knight in his quest.

Readers of this story, themselves accustomed to medieval tales of knights in shining armor, had never before come across such an odd couple in literature. Like the knights in his books, Don Quixote longs after an aloof and beautiful woman; his beloved Dulcinea, however, is an imaginary figure created by him solely for the purpose of having someone to whom he can dedicate his deeds. To confuse matters even more, at the book's start the fictional narrator tells how he found the story of Don Quixote's adventures written by an Arab historian on some scraps of paper, and asked a young Moorish boy to translate it into Spanish. With this puzzling introduction, the author clues in his readers that what happens in the story may or may not be true. By poking fun at western stereotypes of non-Christians, Cervantes, of course, was placing in doubt the truth value of all history books. And by having Don Quixote blindly imitate the same novels of chivalry that drove him mad, the author is also laughing at--even while acknowledging and putting to use--the power and attraction of literature. These are only some of the many lessons contained in Don Quixote, a book that has come to be celebrated as the first modern novel.

Don Quixote in a cage.

Cervantes wrote Don Quixote in two parts. The first included many kinds of literature familiar to his readers, and he made sure to compare them to real histories. Not only novels of chivalry, but pieces of poems and short stories are often confused in Don Quixote's mind with historical reality. The second part, published 10 years later in 1615, focuses more on Sancho, as the crafty peasant finally achieves his dream of governing his promised island, while Don Quixote's imaginative powers begin to wane. In both parts, the odd couple wanders the countryside meeting up with people very much like those who lived in 17th-century Spain. Don Quixote is surprised to learn that they have heard about him, since the've already read a novel called Don Quixote. Don Quixote's adventures fail precisely because he is out of place; in both parts, the knight returns, humiliated, to his village.

If Don Quixote seems like a fool to some readers, others view him as a hero. People laugh at Don Quixote for behaving so irrationally, yet he upholds the principles of knighthood as he understands them. He lives in a world where country inns are imposing castles and lowly wenches are beautiful damsels; where everything that he believes to be real, is merely make-believe to the rest. Similarly, his story--like all fiction--is nothing more than the product of someone's imagination (and that someone could just as surely be an Arab historian as a Spanish writer). Yet, as with all good literature, the book is a forceful reminder that Don Quixote's desires and failures are compellingly like our own.

Anne J. Cruz
Anne J. Cruz is Chair of Foreign Languages and Literatures at the University of Miami, and served as co-editor of Cervantes and His Postmodern Constituencies.

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