SOURCE: "The Insubstantial Country of the Mind: Cuentos by José Donoso," Critica Hispánica, Vol. 5, No. 2, Fall, 1983, pp. 97-106.

[In the following essay, Adelstein explores Donoso's preoccupation with the psychological functioning of his characters, which Adelstein contends marks each of the tales in Cuentos.]

The world of José Donoso: a country of the reflections and dreams of puppets, of their imaginary discourse with others. . . . It is alike Jaynes' world of "unseen visions and heard silences."¹ It is the country of the mind.

The world described by Donoso in Cuentos² is one that is filled with anxieties, antagonisms and emptiness. The characters are the instruments of those physical/psychological realms which encompass them. They live not only in the physical world which surrounds them, but also in a psychological environment which seems to weigh more heavily on their personalities. The protagonists are Iliadic men, lacking a will of their own, their behaviour directed by inner voices—the clearly discernible voices of friends or authoritative figures; or the anonymous voices representing the expectations of an ordered world. The characters are told what to do, how to think, how to feel. They interact passively with the world around them. They are performers in life who disregard the precept of the Delphic oracle: "know thyself."

In Cuentos, Donoso devotes an abundance of time and vocabulary to the description of the characters and the world in which they live. He spares no effort in divulging all the details necessary to create a complete picture that shows their interaction with the world around them, as well as the inner workings of their own minds.

Without doubt, Donoso's principal preoccupation is with the psychological functioning of the characters. His interest in the decaying physical environment is only important in its reflection of the character's mental configuration. Donoso's cogent portrayals of the decaying physical environments of his protagonist-victims and of their mental configurations are the mere artifacts of his exploration of human isolation, alienation, loneliness—of the exploration of the void. Indeed, the authenticity of Donoso's conflict-ridden character depictions has its origin in the reflections of many contemporary philosopher-psychologists.

By concentrating on these existential preoccupations, it is possible to examine the multifarious ways in which Donoso's protagonists attempt to rescue their personal identities from total annihilation. If we certainly examine Donoso's works, starting from his first writings, "The Poisoned Pastries" and "Blue Woman", we cannot fail to perceive his preoccupation with the individual's anguish before human existence—an anguish that exteriorizes itself in a world of fear, corruption and terror.

One of the themes in the stories in Cuentos which is immediately apparent is that of loneliness, social alienation or isolation of the character. From the very first story, "Veraneo," one notes the isolation of the servants. They are not aware of the world which surrounds them, but only exist within their own circle of gossip, boyfriends and dances. Even more important to this theme are the youngsters, Raúl and Jaime. Each boy is alone and apart when the story begins. They experience a period of friendship, but later on, Jaime goes away and Raúl remains intensely alone: even more so than he was before.

The alienation of all of Donoso's principal characters figures in the following stories of the collection as well. In "Tocayos," the protagonists have no friends or family, but live either alone, or with nonrelatives in a large, unfriendly city. Mrs. Howland in "El güero" has spent many years of her life not loving her husband, feeling estranged from her family, and finally losing both her child and spouse. The list of unhappy characters goes on with Santelices, the old bachelor who lives in an unfriendly boarding house. The old man in "Ana María" finally leaves his wife and home after many years of unhappiness. The young man in "Una señora" lives in a world of fantasy totally detached from the real world. In his last story, the narrator describes what he sees: "La hilera de casas bajas se prolongaba a lo largo de la acera: ventana, puerta, ventana, puerta, dos ventanas. . . ." (p. 82) This quote shows the intense void existing within the character as well as his total separation from the world which surrounds him. What he sees has no meaning to him, and seems to be part of a senseless stupor.

The void of loneliness in the works of Donoso extends to all age and social groups. Children are not exempt; old men and young men, as well as women, be they rich or poor, are all plagued by the intense internal despair which characterizes loneliness.

The social structure of the family is not able to survive in Donoso's world. In a great number of the stories, the father is either absent or ineffective, while in "Paseo," the mother is never encountered or even mentioned. Because of this dissolution of the family, the suffering and loneliness are more intensified. In those stories where the father is absent, the mother tries to raise the child on her own, but without exception this attempt always ends in failure.

In "Veraneo" Raúl's father is alive but never at home, so the boy does not experience any relationship with his father. The mother tries to do what she thinks is right for her son by forbidding his friendship with Jaime. However, Raúl breaks this interdiction and continues seeing his friend. It is quite possible that in the eyes of Raúl, the tall, older, mysterious and powerful Jaime is a father-figure to whom he is attached, due to his own lack of a father-presence.

"El güero" is another story in which the child suffers due to the disintegration of the family unit. The father is too involved in scientific research to have time for his son, and the mother imposes restrictions to which the child refuses to adhere. Instead, he takes off on an idealistic boat expedition which inevitably leads to his death.

Perhaps the most classic example of the harm construed by a mother/son relationship can be seen in "Fiesta en grande." El Beto is forty-five years old, but in the relationship he has with his mother, he is like a five year old child. Examples of their conversations are:

"—Albertito, llegó mi hijito?

—Sí, mami. . . ."

Also,

"—Tranquilo, mi lindo. No te preocupes. ¿Te apago la luz para que te duermas?

—Bueno, viejita. . . .

—Buenas noches, hijo. Descansa bien." (p. 103)

The conversation between mother and son is filled with diminutives and evokes the image of a young mother with her infant child. Emotionally speaking, El Beto has not developed into a man, but rather, he is stunted by the overpowering relationship between his mother and himself.

This suffocating mother/son love is destructive to the character because it renders him incapable of maintaining a relationship with any other woman. Even when he goes to the picnic with La Martita, he compares her to his mother, knowing that "la señora Martita apartaría los mejores sandwiches para él, tal como lo hubiera hecho su madre." (p. 99) Therefore, in the mind of El Beto, there is a confusion between Martita and his mother, to the point where he sees Martita as the embodiment of the two women. Later on in the story, El Beto dreams that he makes love to this Martita/mother figure, symbolically expressed in the dream as a willow tree. What is even more interesting is his desire to destroy the tree, so demonstrating his sense of guilt as well as his frustration with his mother's hold on his life. Killing her in his dream expresses his desire to break away from the ties that hold him to his mother.

This dream, as well as the final episode in the story suggest that El Beto is suffering from an Oedipal complex. He loves his mother, has sexual fantasies about her, and begs her to sleep in his bed with him. When he is with her, he loses all identity as a man and exists only as her "little boy." Obviously, he tries to break this relationship because it denies him an existence separate from his mother. However, at the same time, he returns home to her and remains in the web of her love. He is clearly torn between the options available to him. He wants to break away, but he wants also to remain in the security of this love with which he is familiar. El Beto arrives at an impasse. In the company of his mother he is able to evade responsibility and decision-making; he is able to be "a little boy." This is reminiscent of a passage by Sartre depicting the hero in The Words: "Out of cowardice and with a good little boy's timidity [he] had backed away from the risks of a free and open existence, an existence without providential guarantee."³ El Beto is acting in "bad faith," the term used by Sartre to characterize the "yearning to escape one's liberty and responsibility . . . He who turns to Authority . . . rather than his own self for guidance, [when confronted by a choice, is abdicating his liberty], therefore his authenticity, at the same time, passing on to Others the responsibility of his acts."⁴ El Beto is unable to forfeit the security his mother provides, which shelters him from the outside world. As May cautions, "The problem of being prey to someone else's power is reinforced . . . by one's own infantile desires to be taken care of"⁵

This binary opposition of El Beto's character introduces another theme: a theme that expresses another duality. In many of the stories, the characters live in a world of order, rigidity, rules and sterility. Their lives are governed by routine, mundane details that leave no room for aspirations, desires, hopes and dreams. Opposed to this meaningless routine, the characters also live in a world of imaginative fantasy, beauty, satisfaction, love, mystery, and all else that is missing in their everyday lives. The void which they experience every day leads to a deep anxiety and fear which eventually overpower the character, and he is then forced to act.

In "Paseo," Aunt Matilde and the young narrator both experience the void created by their routine existence. The atmosphere in the house is one of sterility and rigidity with no room for impulse or imagination. There is also no show of love between the members of the family. Rather, they all seem to exist in a sort of vacuum, unaffected by each other or by any force outside their existence.

The narrator in the story dreams of the mysterious unknown streets in the city and the exotic ships that go by. For him, these symbols represent a world of adventure, mystery and change.

Tía Matilde also experiences the same anguish as the boy. She too is oppressed by the demanding routine, order and dignity that rule her life. Her initial means of accepting a new life lies in her acceptance and adoption of the white dog. She devotes all her time and stifled love to this dog who reciprocates by loving her in return. Her final act of liberation comes when she leaves the house, never to return. She takes the dog with her: the dog which symbolises love, sexual fantasy, and which is also the symbol of a new beginning for her. The acceptance and adoption of "la perra blanca" by Tía Matilde is contiguous with her awakening of consciousness. The dog signals a new beginning. Tía Matilde breaks down her ritualized world: "salió a pasear con la perra después de comida y no volvió más." (p. 230) Tía Matilde's choice is gratifying.

She rejects that which impedes her self-expression and self-actualization and her venture out is a promise to the reader that she is learning to feel, experience and want—that she is becoming a person. The narrator is left speculating "si Tía Matilde, arrastrada por la perra, se perdió en la ciudad, en la muerte, o en una región más misteriosa que ambas." (p. 230) One is left with the impression that this boy too, will one day reject his ordered sterile life for a new, hopeful life, like his aunt has done.

Santelices is another character very much like Tía Matilde. He too is inundated by the senseless, emotionless routine and restrictions which typify his life. He liberates himself by looking at pictures of exotic beasts which represent distant lands and allow him imaginative freedom.

The characters of Cuentos, like the hero of Kafka's Metamorphosis, live in a world of order, rigidity and sterility, their lives governed by routine. Mrs. Howland in "El güero" questions: "¿Conoce usted esa clase de personas que viven según teorías, teorías que estipulan el nombre preciso y el peso exacto de cada cosa, desterrando con eso toda posibilidad de misterio?" (p. 62) Donoso's performers are given scripts, and when so cued, they engage in the dictated acts. In "Veraneo," when it is time to go to the beach, the children do so because "era su hora del deber por cumplir." (p. 38) Similarly, emotion is not generated spontaneously but emitted dutifully; for Tía Matilde and her brothers in "Paseo," "expresar sus afectos era desempeñar perfectamente sus funciones uno respecto a los otros, y, sobre todo, no incomodar, jamás incomodar." (p. 209) Mrs. Howland of "El güero" is aware that even thought is directed. But she decides "que este hijo mío iba a ser un gran hombre. Desde temprano debía ser capaz de razonar por sí solo y de actuar según sus inclinaciones, libre de toda oscuridad que entorpeciera lo que habría de ser la más plena de las vidas." (pp. 64-65)

This ordered world requires that an individual know who he is and how he should be. But Donoso's protagonists are dissatisfied with this order and with the rigid channelling of their energies, their potentialities. The order appears to them as hollow, empty. However, Donoso's protagonists are also painfully aware of the profound sense of security that this order provides. The individual is comfortable knowing that he knows what to expect. The protagonist in "Santelices" realizes he would never stray from the boarding house which he despises: "Era demasiado difícil comenzar a fabricar una nueva relación con alguien, con cualquiera que fuese . . . Mal que mal, saber que todas las noches podía jugar unas manos de canasta sin sus dientes postizos, estar seguro de que nunca les faltaría un botón a sus camisas, que sus zapatos estarían limpios en la mañana, que se respetaban sus irregularidades estomacales, sus gustos, sus pequeñas manías, era algo tan sólido que sería para él una tragedia abandonarlo." (p. 274) Santelices is the individual who tenaciously and very often paradoxically attempts to safeguard his personal identity from the threat of total annihilation. He appears as a "pathetic" and occasionally a "comic" figure who is tormented by a desire to search for a new order of existence which will allow him to exercise his freedom and consequently achieve a more existentially fulfilling and authentic life. But Santelices is unable to come to terms with the disassociation which he experiences between himself and his empirical world, and he finds it increasingly difficult to live an "authentic" and "human" life.

The love-hate which Donoso's protagonists have towards the order in their worlds in each case provokes inner struggle. Camus in The Myth of Sisyphus captures the essence of such order. He writes: "Rising, tram, four hours in the office or factory, meal, tram, four hours of work, meal, sleep, and Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday, according to the same rhythm."⁶ Camus' narrative is a metaphor of this order. Camus concludes that the order path is followed easily until one day the individual questions why.⁷ The protagonists in Cuentos separately face this why.

In questioning why, in experiencing the inner struggle, there "can be great joy, but it is as easy to be mangled by the process as to swing with it . . . [for] those who do not know from their own experience what hell this borderline between being and non-being can become [it will require an act of imagination]."⁸ El Beto's inner struggle is accompanied by considerable anxiety. He draws back: "Hoy no estaba dispuesto a ponerse a prueba." (p. 100) He turns to his mother: "No se vaya, mami. Acompáñeme hasta que me duerma. Tengo miedo. . . ." (p. 106)

Camus claims that the day the why arises, "everything begins in that wariness tinged with amazement."⁹ He emphasizes 'beginning': "'Begins'—this is important. Weariness comes at the end of the acts of a mechanical life, but at the same time it inaugurates the impulse of consciousness. It awakens consciousness and provokes what follows. What follows is the gradual return into the chain or it is the definitive awakening."¹⁰

El Beto in "Fiesta en grande" remains in this awakened state only for an instant in a dream during which he brandished a sword and with it impales the willow tree which symbolizes his mother—his keeper. But, in reality his choice is to lapse back into non-being, to remain the infant he has always been.

Like El Beto, Mrs. Howland in "El güero" ultimately cannot extricate herself from her rigidly-structured world. She remains a prisoner of that world, even following the deaths of her child and husband, when she is responsible to or for no-one but herself.

Raúl in "Veraneo" ultimately rejects his world, breaks from the chain. Raúl chooses self-alienation: "Pasó casi todo el verano sentado en la arena, solo, tarareando algo que nadie conocía. Con el perfil fijo en el horizonte, parecía aguardar a alguien, algo." (p. 44) But Raúl has not "become a person" which entails not only fighting and rejecting that which prevents one from feeling and wanting, but it is also "learning to feel, to experience and to want."¹¹

Similarly, this criticism is applicable to both the protagonists in "Santelices" and in "La puerta cerrada" who do emancipate themselves from their restrained worlds but consequently compromise life itself. At the peak of his 'awakening,' Santelices jumps to his death—to the fantastic world of "rumores peligrosos . . . cuerpos de andar perfecto, guiños de ojos que al oscurecer fulguraban hasta quemar, olores, bocanadas de aire usado en pulmones poderosos, presencias, roces, calor de pieles tendidas sobre la elegancia de músculos precisos, toda una inervante incitación a participar en una vida candente, a exponerse a ser fauce y sangre, víctima y agresor." (p. 266) With his death, Sebastián attempts to preserve his "selfhood." Ties to an ordered world are broken. This attempt to preserve the "selfhood" in Donoso's fictional world is the embodiment of the conception of authenticity vs. inauthenticity of the philosophy of Heidegger. The individual must not submit to the pressures which arise and operate against him within his society. Camus has expressed that "man is his own end. And he is his only end. If he aims to be something, it is in this life."¹² In "La puerta cerrada" Donoso suggests that Sebastián's 'definitive awakening' was sufficient, that this was a 'happy death': "el rostro del muerto [Sebastián] . . . apareció transfigurado por una expresión de tal goce, de tal alegría y embeleso, que María Patricia [a bystander] . . . exclamó: 'Mira, . . ., qué lindo.'" (p. 179)

Without doubt, the rebellion of the characters in Cuentosconstitute a search or a need within their beings. They are not satisfied with their lives, and recognize that something is missing. The search which they undergo to fulfill their lives is a psychoanalytical study performed by the author, who is deeply concerned with the problems these characters present. He recognizes that their physical lack is essentially the reflection of a psychological need that affects their social behaviour.

In the story "Fiesta en grande," the author is really occupied with an analytic study of the mental state of Alberto. Donoso seeks to find out why this man is irresponsive to others, and particularly to women. After a portrait of Alberto's mother and the relationship that exists between the two, it is quite clear that Alberto finds himself at an impasse. He wants to break lose from his mother's stifling affection, but he is incapable of doing so. This mental frustration is revealed as the principal reason for his insecurity around other people.

Alberto's character shows a personality split which is basic to human nature. Although he wants to liberate himself, he also does not want to, since he begs his mother to stay with him. The agony involved in being on his own also details a responsibility with which he is not prepared to cope. So, even though he wants liberty, he chooses, through fear, to remain imprisoned.

Another character who seeks to liberate himself from the preoccupations of every day existence is Sebastián, the principal character in "La puerta cerrada." He can sleep whenever he wishes to, and spends the major part of his life doing so. When questioned by his mother and his boss as to why he sleeps so much, he replies that he is waiting for the closed door of his dreams to open up for him.

Sebastián's mother, Adela, has had a difficult life, bringing up her son on her own, working hard and denying herself any pleasures in life. Sebastian rejects work, order, routine and security because they hold no promise for him. He lives on a level above routine, every day existence; a level which baffles his mother and is totally incomprehensible for her.

One has the impression that Sebastián is seeking to exist on another plane of reality. The closed door is a symbol of the entrance into another life that is more noble, fulfilling and satisfying than this one. So, like Santelices and Tía Matilde, he sacrifices his present life for the promise of a new and better one.

The other characters in the other stories of the collection are all representatives of the basic problems that haunt all of Donoso's characters. They are lonely, isolated, unhappy. They are stifled by an unproductive life and by the lack of inspiration and imagination in their daily routines. For all these characters, existence is characterized by a void, a lack which they cannot identify, but which Donoso probes in psychoanalytic fashion.

Tía Matilde, Sebastián, El Beto, Raúl—through his protagonist pawns, Donoso thrusts his reader-participant into an awareness of "how insubstantial the pageant of external reality can be,"¹³ into an exploration of the non-being, the void, the inner apparition that questions the why of his cubby-hole existence.

Notes

The idea of this title has been prompted by Julian Jaynes: The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind, University of Toronto Press, Toronto, 1976, p. 1.

¹Op. cit., p. 1.

² José Donoso, Cuentos, Seix Barral, S.A., Barcelona, 1971. All references from Donoso's short stories are taken from Cuentos. Henceforth, references from this edition will be indicated by the page number in parenthesis.

³ Jean-Paul Sartre, The Words, Fawcett Publications, Greenwich, Conn., 1964, p. 124.

⁴ Jean-Paul Sartre, Huis Clos, Meredith Publishing Company, New York, 1962, p. xii.

⁵ Rollo May, Man's Search for Himself, W. W. Norton and Company, Inc., New Jersey, 1967, p. 169.

⁶ Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus, Penguin Books Ltd., Middlesex, England, 1979, p. 19.

⁷ Ibid., p. 19.

⁸ R. D. Laing, The Politics of Experience and the Bird of Paradise, Penguin Books Ltd., Middlesex, England, 1967, p. 36.

⁹ Camus, Op. cit., p. 19.

¹⁰Op. cit., p. 19.

¹¹ May, Op. cit., p. 103.

¹² Camus, Op. cit., p. 82.

¹³ Laing, Op. cit., p. 109.