José Joaquín Fernández de Lizardi's El Periquillo Sarniento is widely considered to be the first Latin American novel. Unwilling to commit to its 900+ pages (although intrigued by its picaresque subject matter) I decided to read the much shorter life and times of don Catrín. A brief explanation of the title might be helpful: the dictionary of the Spanish Royal Academy gives "well dressed, dandified" as the definition for catrín, and "pride, vanity, or a person who possesses these attributes" for fachenda. The title character's name doubles as a description of his person. This is also true for secondary characters in this book like Modesto and Tremendo. The book revolves around don Catrín's steadfast refusal to disavow his illustrious lineage (he's of the Catrín nobility and expects to be treated as a noble), and he lives and dies behaving as he is called.

It's a fun little book. He reminds me a bit of Candide in his steadfast optimism in the face of repeated hardships. He's mistreated, he's imprisoned, he's constantly broke and often defamed, but he goes on thinking that the catrín is the best of all possible men. He's constantly pawning and re-buying the many articles of clothing required by his social class, and he mostly just hangs out at cafes hoping somebody will buy him a free meal. If he's not there, he's down at the gaming parlor, hoping to turn the pittance he's walked in with into some larger sum that will allow him to spend freely for a day or two. Sometimes people sermonize him and tell him he should change his ways, but he pays them no heed. As he grows older, things get tougher, and he's eventually shipped to Cuba for two years of jail time and forced labor (the only two years he's worked in his life, and two too many in his opinion!). Eventually things get really rough, as he loses a leg at the hands of a jealous husband who finds him in consort with his wife, and his health declines due to his constant consumption of alcohol. Being a catrín was no easy task, I suppose.

Everything seemed very strange as I read this book. I realized how difficult it was for me to picture life in early 19th century Mexico, and I started to think about how much of my knowledge of places and time periods is constructed by the books I read. I mean, a poor man patching together an outfit that will allow him to show his face on the street makes sense to me in the context of Golden Age Spain, because it's a commonplace of the picaresque. This is a different world, though, and as he's maneuvering through Mexico City, it just doesn't feel right. I'm planning to read some more colonial literature this year, and maybe once I understand the way life was in the colonies I'll be better equipped to understand Lizardi's satire. All in all, though, it was a fun, quick read and I was amused by this first person account of the life of a creole dandy. ( )