45 pages • 1 hour read
Gabriel García MárquezA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
The General's careful cultivation of his own legend shows his preoccupation with his mythology and his lack of acceptance of his reality. He knows the influence and impact he has had on history, and he is careful not to represent himself as anything other than the strong, domineering force that he believes himself to be. This desire to preserve a legendary reputation presents the General with a problem because he is dying; The General's decrepit body does not correlate with the strong, romantic, mythic figure that he wants to be. As a result, the General fights against his own weakness in an attempt to preserve his self-image. This leaves the General raging against reality and places him in a nervous, delusional state that, ironically, exacerbates his health problems. Nearly all his actions are self-destructive. When he refuses medical help or refuses to sleep and eat well, he is hastening his own demise.
The General is carefully attuned to the ways in which other people perceive him. When he begins to lose popular support and is driven from Bogotá, he becomes desperate. Not only is his political project on the verge of collapse, and not only is he being driven from his homeland, but the public has begun to question the mythic persona that he has spent so long cultivating. Toward the end of the novel, the General begins to accept that he has lost control over his public perception; Along with that, he has lost his mandate to govern.
The General’s fear of acknowledging the truth is rooted in his fear of losing control. He has lost political power, he has lost his health, and now he fears that he is losing his status and his reputation. Toward the end of his life, he makes accommodations to preserve his mythology and designates people to write biographies of his life. Choosing loyal deputies means that these accounts will be favorable. His act represents the small ways in which he is coming to terms with his loss of control: He is no longer the author of his own fate, nor the author of his own myth. The General never truly surrenders himself to fate, but he gradually accepts that he cannot completely control the relationship between mythology and his sense of self.
In The General in His Labyrinth, the past is a source of pain and nostalgia. The historical context in which the novel takes place means that the pain and trauma of colonialism is still present in the memory of the local people. Spanish Imperial control of the continent existed for centuries, and the pains of being ruled by a faraway empire motivated the General's campaign for independence. This long and brutal war results in the founding of Gran Colombia, but now this ideal of independence is beginning to fall apart. Many characters in the novel have only known colonialism, war, and oppression. For men like the General, the past is a string of violent episodes, interspersed with sudden flashes of happiness or romance. Even a man like José Palacios, who is more of servant than a fighter, has a traumatic collection of memories that he would rather not remember. While the characters vie with one another for power in the present, their violent actions are informed by their painful and inescapable past. They are trapped in the labyrinth of their own trauma, searching for a way out but only succeeding in falling deeper into the violence and darkness.
The General is fighting with the demons of his past; He is Catholic and fears God’s judgment. As he approaches the end of his life, he is forced to reflect on the actions he undertook in the name of independence. For all his attempts to turn his life story into a hagiography—or saint’s life—the General is not a saintly man. His journey through South America takes him to places and reintroduces him to people from his past. He ordered the execution of many men and used violent tactics to suppress towns that threatened his political project. By revisiting these towns and people, the General is forced to reckon with his actions. The trauma and regret are palpable, even when the General explains that he was acting for the good of the nation. With that nation now crumbling, his excuses seem hollow. Entire towns and cities remember his transgressions, and people line the streets to see the man who caused so much pain in their past. The constant presence of violence in the post-colonial state means that everyone is dealing with some form of trauma. The General's moral quandary reveals the price paid for independence; in a fierce fight against an imperial force, moral clarity is impossible. The General won, but the cost of winning lingers with him in the painful reminders he sees along his journey.
As the General's circumstances worsen, he looks nostalgically toward the past. He ignores the memories of violence and war and focuses on romances or his childhood to provide comfort and guidance. But even these nostalgic memories can be painful. As he lies dying, the General recalls his mother giving him warmed donkey milk as a cure for a cough. He requests the drink, hoping to feel as comforted in his present as he did when his mother cared for him when he was a child. The milk makes the General sick. He vomits, and his health immediately worsens, showing that even the comforting memories of the past can be painful when dragged into the present. The General learns that he must distinguish between the past and the present, that he cannot allow himself to mythologize or sanitize the past so as to comfort himself. Instead, he must reckon with the reality of what he has done, just as he must accept his imminent death.
During the General's lifetime, love and violence are two constants. As his life comes to an end and he is thrown into a reckoning with the consequences of his violent past, love is a continuing presence in his life. When his political project can no longer endure, love can, whether romantic or platonic.
In terms of romantic love, Manuela is a dominant figure in the General's life, but she also represents the complexity of his relationship with romance. Manuela is an indominable figure. Her fierce devotion to the General is similar to the devotion to independence that drove the General to drive the Spanish out of South America. Because of this devotion, the General always returns to Manuela. Their love affair is scattered across history, interspersed by his coming and going from her life. Even though he has left her many times, he always returns. Manuela is a comforting presence in the General's life: he always knows that she will be there for him and love him, no matter where he goes or what he does. For a man who deals so often in violence and who struggles to forgive himself, this reliable, dependable devotion is a great comfort and the foundation on which he builds his life. With Manuela, the General can be assured that somewhere, someone loves him.
While Manuela loves the General, he does not allow himself to love in the same way. The General adores the idea of love, but he cannot contend with the physical proximity it entails. As soon as he devotes himself to one woman, he searches for an excuse to leave. In his mind, he conjures great romantic stories, in which he and his partner embark on a great romance. These romances are almost always hypothetical, part of the General's love of self-mythologizing. He enjoys the public’s perception of him as a great lover, but he fears the vulnerability that true love entails. The General is strong, and he fears being weak: He never wants to expose himself emotionally for fear of being hurt. In the past, he lost his wife and—even with José—he never wants to discuss this moment of incomprehensible loss. Since then, his relationships have been defined by their intensity and their brevity. The General hopes that these brief, intense relationships are a sign of strength but, in fact, they reveal the vulnerability that he wishes to hide. The General has seen so much pain and suffering in his wars that, in romance, he prefers to avoid the possibility of being hurt.
The General's love for his country is never in doubt, but the brutalities he has inflicted on the country’s people in the name of patriotism place him in a morally ambiguous position. Santander exemplifies this contradiction. He is a traitor and an enemy, but he claims to love the country from which the General exiled him. Now, he is set to return, and he will undo all the General's work, all under the auspices of patriotism and love.
High-minded platonic ideals often mask cynical self-interest in The General in His Labyrinth. Instead, true platonic love is quieter and subtle. The love between José and the General, for example, is demonstrable and tragic. After nearly a lifetime together, their platonic love cannot be questioned. José is devoted to the General, and the General does not value anyone as much as he values José. After the General’s death, José loses his reason for living. Platonic love is real in the novel, but, just as with romantic love, the consequences of love in a violent world are often tragic.
By Gabriel García Márquez
Colonialism & Postcolonialism
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Fate
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Hispanic & Latinx American Literature
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Magical Realism
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Mortality & Death
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Nobel Laureates in Literature
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Politics & Government
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Spanish Literature
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Valentine's Day Reads: The Theme of Love
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