Carmen Laforet - To what extent do you think that Nada defends the patriarchal discourse?

Tracie Narayanasamy

SL 332

Contemporary Spanish Literature

Essay 1

e) To what extent do you think that Nada defends the Patriarchal Discourse?

Carmen Laforet’s Nada is set in 1940s post-civil war Barcelona, and is narrated in retrospect by the main protagonist, Andrea. After having spent the war years in a convent, an eighteen-year-old Andrea comes to Barcelona to live with her dead mother’s relatives in order to pursue an academic career in letras. Andrea arrives at the family home, full of youthful enthusiasm, only to discover that nothing is as she had expected it to be, with the house on Aribau Street bearing no resemblance to the prosperous, happy home she had visited as a child. In the year that follows, Andrea becomes embroiled in the sordid intrigues surrounding the lives of the inhabitants of Calle Aribau, while at the same time forming a provident friendship with a university companion, Ena. Finally, just as it seems she is destined to spend the foreseeable future at Calle Aribau, Andrea is provided a timely escape route through an invitation to live with Ena and her wealthy family in Madrid. In style, Nada could be said to resemble a pastiche of inverted fairy tales, which seemingly culminate in the happy ending eluded so many times throughout the book.

For many critics, Nada appears to endorse the bourgeois patriarchal discourse of the time, which was of fundamental importance to the new regime in 1940s Spain. Post-war Spanish society was highly fragmented, and in dire need of reconstruction, which from a Francoist perspective entailed the re-establishing and buttressing of patriarchal family relations. “The patriarchal family was seen as representing the corporate order of the state in a microcosm. So by reconstructing or reinforcing it, Francoism would, in theory, be able to operate in an atomised post-war society to build up the ‘new order’.”1 The war, aside from ensuring the destruction of the revolutionary working class, had also displaced some pockets of the bourgeoisie who were unable to relocate themselves within Spain’s battered post-war economy. Against this background, Nada seems to depict opposing aspects of the same discourse; the healthy, bourgeois, patriarchal family at Vía Layetana, and its diseased nemesis at Calle Aribau. While Andrea ultimately opts for the former, that is not to say that there are elements of Nada that could be seen to undermine this same discourse.

Upon arrival at Calle Aribau, Andrea encounters a dysfunctional and declassed bourgeois family, now living in abject poverty, plagued by incestuous deceit, intimidation and violence. Counterpoised to Aribau, and the darkness that shrouds it, is the family home at Vía Layetana, a shining example of idealised bourgeois patriarchy, to which Andrea is attracted and ultimately becomes attached to, “Me agregaba a la patriarcal familia.” (p114)

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In stark contrast to Ena’s father (the highly successful entrepreneur Luis), the family man of the Aribau household, Juan, is entirely lacking the “authority, intelligence, power and the spirit of enterprise” 2, required by the dominant Falangist ideology of the time. An unremarkable artist, he is unable to fulfil the role as breadwinner to his wife, Gloria, and their young child. He compensates for his inadequacy by frequently beating his wife and attempting, largely unsuccessfully, to control her movements. His authority is further undermined when he discovers that Gloria has in fact been selling his paintings for scrap and that the meagre income enjoyed by the family has been earned by Gloria in card games. Upon this discovery, Juan weeps on Gloria’s shoulder in helpless resignation, and the patriarchal gender roles are seen to be reversed. Unfortunately however, Gloria chooses to remain within this cycle of violence, recriminations and pleadings, “…a veces, me acaricia, me pide perdón y se pone a llorar como un niño pequeño…y yo ¿qué voy a hacer?”, reflecting the experiences of so many women trapped within abusive relationships.

Juan is very much under the influence of Román, the sadistic brother who lives at Aribau in a room above the rest of the family. Román is a cruel womaniser, clearly unable to form meaningful relationships with either men or women. He has no friends, and his interactions with women are based on mind games, his pleasure seemingly derived from conquest and the thrill of the chase. His eventual downfall and subsequent suicide however, are brought about by two of the women he crosses; Gloria, who he at the same time tries to seduce and debase, and Ena, whose mother has suffered humiliation at his hands in the past.

Clearly, within the dominant patriarchal discourse, Juan and Román are abject failures as men. Yet both, especially Román, are seen to be victims of just such discourse, as is implied when one of Román’s sisters berates her mother, “Siempre fue usted injusta, mamá. Siempre prefirió usted a sus hijos varones. ¿Se da usted cuenta de que tiene usted la culpa de este final?” (p264) Furthermore, while Luis may provide an exemplary example of the ideal family man, his character is rather insubstantial, “Pensé que era una de esas personas que no saben estar con sus propios pensamientos. Que no tienen pensamientos quizá. Sin embargo, me era extraordinariamente simpático.” Here a parallel could be inferred between the superficiality of the character and the idealised bourgeois patriarchy he represents.

On the other hand, Román appears as a far more vibrant, albeit dangerous character. He is a gifted musician, “Toco algo parecido al resurgir de la vida en primavera, con notas roncas y agudas como un aroma que se extiende y embriaga” (p53), and has in the past earned the respect of his peers. When Román finally commits suicide, despite her aversions towards him, Andrea mourns his loss, “Y no me parecía tan malo aquel hombre que sabía coger sus propios sollozos y comprimirlos en una belleza tan espesa como el oro antiguo.” (p267). Andrea’s grief could be read in two ways: like Gloria, as demonstrating an inability to distance herself from a dangerous man or as retrospective admiration for a man whose final act clearly flies in the face of patriarchal and religious discourses.

Ostensibly, a reading of Andrea’s character and those of the three female characters that appear to affect her most - Aunt Angustias, Ena and her mother Margarita - would seem to reinforce patriarchal discourse by adhering to the notion that there are only two viable options available to women. As Angustias points out to Andrea, “..sólo hay dos caminos para la mujer. Dos únicos caminos honrosos”, (p94) referring to the choice of marriage or, ultimately, the convent. True to her own words, Angustias leaves Aribau to enter a convent, despite holding no firm religious beliefs, when it becomes clear that marriage is not an option after a long-term, ill-fated affair with her boss.

Margarita, on the other hand, has fulfilled her destiny as mother and wife, as she confides to Andrea, “Fue ella, la niña, quien me descubrió la fina urdimbre de la vida…Fue Ena la que me hizo querer a su padre.” (p223) Her development is entirely in keeping with the Falangist ideology that, “La española es ante todo madre y sólo en Segunda luger esposa y amante.” 3 Andrea is instantly empathetic, “…era fácil para mí entender este idioma de sangre, dolor y creación que empieza con la misma sustancia física cuando se es mujer. Era fácil entenderlo sabiendo mi propio cuerpo preparado – como cargado de semillas – para esta labor de continuación de la vida” (p223), and it is as if she is seeing Margarita for the first time, “No comprendía yo cómo había podido pensar que ella fuese fea.” (p221) Yet the empathy demonstrated here does not mean to say that this is automatically how Andrea views her own future, and it is open to interpretation whether we are witnessing a striking moment of female solidarity or merely the recognition and acceptance of a woman’s pre-ordained role.

While Angustias and Margarita walk down two distinct roads, the paths taken by Ena and Andrea are considerably more obscured.

Perhaps due in part to her privileged economic position, Ena is extremely confident and strong willed, and like Román is prone to demonstrations of sadistic behaviour, “Cuando he sido demasiada sublime una temporada, tengo ganas de arañar…de dañar un poco.” Her ability to dañar is demonstrated through her liaisons with Román, instigated in order to avenge his past treatment of her mother. Ena is also in touch with her ‘good’ side, largely through the influence of Andrea and her boyfriend Jamie, “Con Jamie me vuelvo buena, Andrea, soy una mujer distinta”, and it seems that with her impending marriage to Jamie, she has finally tamed her “dark, desiring, disruptive self” 4 However, we are only given written notice of Ena’s ‘good intentions’, the intended marriage not yet a reality. Furthermore, bearing in mind Ena’s objection to Andrea, “De haber vivido siempre con seres demasiado normales y satisfechos que saben en todo momento lo que les parece bien y lo que les parece mal”, it cannot be taken for granted that Ena will ultimately opt for the sublime.

And now we are left with Andrea, who as critics have pointed out, appears to reject, for the time being at least, both marriage and the convent. However, Andrea conforms to one aspect of the ideologically (Falangist) desirable female role, through her continual self-sacrifice. Andrea starves herself in order to give gifts to others, “Un hambre que a fuerza de ser crónica llegué casi a no sentirla”, though curiously makes no attempt to buy new clothing to attend a high-class party thrown by a potential suitor. In this sense, Andrea appears to be wielding a stick to her own back as she cringes under the gaze of those who she feels are looking down on her because of her shoddy appearance. She is also seen as predominantly asexual, although perhaps understandably given encounters such as that with Gerardo who, “no cree en la inteligencia femenina”, and who Andrea sees as, “uno de los infinitos hombres que nacen para sementales y junto a una mujer no entienden otra actitud que está.”

Ultimately, Andrea appears to flee “in the direction of ideological safety and legitimacy” 5 , although it has to be said that there is nothing to indicate that this need be more than a stepping stone in her quest for liberation; in the short term from the negativity of Aribau Street, and in the long term in her development as a woman and a writer. “No tenía ahora las mismas ilusiones, pero aquella partida me emocionaba como una liberación.” (p275) What does bode rather badly however, is the fact that one year on, Andrea does not appear to have broken free from her role as spectator, recognised at the end of the second part of the book, “Yo teniá un pequeño y ruin papel de espectadora. Imposible salirme de él. Imposible libertarme”. (p208)

In conclusion, taken as a whole, Nada would appear ultimately to defend the patriarchal discourse, conveying a message as recognised by Barry Jordan, “…that a woman can best fulfil herself within the framework of marriage, family and children, a structure which helps to keep the threat of sexual temptation in check.” 6 Jordan further suggests that Andrea’s love of literature and fantasy serves as ‘sublimination of desire’ again reinforcing patriarchy through the device of containing female sexuality. Throughout the novel we see glimpses of female empowerment, yet they appear largely as momentary aberrations, and do not rub off on the main protagonist. This said, the fact remains that we are left with an ambiguous ending that leaves us to draw our own conclusions, and perhaps a glimmer of hope in Andrea’s equally ambiguous words at the end of the novel, “De la casa de Aribau no me llevaba nada. Al menos, asi creía yo entonces” (p275). Sadly however, there appears to be nothing outstanding in Andrea’s character, to challenge Falangist ideology as espoused by Pilar Primo de Rivera, “Las mujeres nunca descubren nada…; nosotras no podemos hacer nada más que interpretar mejo o peor lo que los hombres han hecho.” 7

Notes

1 Spanish Cultural Studies. Graham, H. Gender and the State; Women in the

1940s, p184

2 Ordóñez, E.J. Voices of Their Own. Cited in notes p212

3 Sección Feminina de La Falange. Cited in class handout. Nada. Week 5

4 Jordan, B. Nada, Critical guides to Spanish texts. p112

5 Ordóñez, E.J. Voices of Their Own. p37

6 Jordan, B. Nada, Critical guides to Spanish texts. p112

7 Pilar Primo de Rivera. Cited in class handout. Nada. Week 1

All quotes from Nada, not given page numbers are taken directly from class handouts Nada. Weeks 1, 5 & 7. The rest are taken directly from the edition cited below in the bibliography.