by Miguel De Cervantes
★★★★
Don Quixote has always intimidated me. The novel is a
literary giant, my own windmill to conquer. This year, over the course of a
couple months, I finally read it. I was surprised by the gentle nature and
sincerity of the famous knight. I’d always thought of him as a bit clownish,
but in reality he is the most human of men, if that makes sense. He’s deeply
flawed and so he’s deeply relatable.
I didn’t realize when I started the book that it consists
of two separate volumes published 10 years apart. The first volume includes
most of the well-known elements of the story, including Don Quixote’s famous
attack on the windmills. In the second volume everyone knows who Don Quixote is
because they've read the first volume. It adds an interesting element to the book,
because he is now trying to live up to his own legend. He's become a celebrity
and his cause and condition have become well known throughout the land.
Alonso Quixano is Don Quixote’s true name. He reads book
after book dealing with stories of chivalry throughout the ages. He then
becomes convinced that he is in fact a knight errant and he must go on a
crusade to help the people who are suffering in Spain.
“It is not the responsibility of knights errant to
discover whether the afflicted, the enchained and the oppressed whom they
encounter on the road are reduced to these circumstances and suffer this
distress for their vices, or for their virtues: the knight's sole
responsibility is to succour them as people in need, having eyes only for their
sufferings, not for their misdeeds.”
He saddles up his horse, Rocinante, and recruits a local
farmer named Sancho Panza to embark on his travels with him. Sancho becomes his
faithful squire. The two set off and along the way they “help” those who cross
their path. The problem is that Don Quixote is delusional about who actually
needs his help. The famous windmill scene comes about because he thinks he is
fighting giants. He fights for the honor of a woman who barely knows him,
Dulcinea del Toboso. The first volume contains a strange mix of stories.
Everyone is able to see the Don’s madness except himself and his
proverb-spouting squire. Though this is tragic in some ways, it’s also
beautiful. There’s something about having complete faith in another person that
gives you strength in your own life.
The first volume is entertaining, but lacks the depth I
was expecting. It wasn’t until I got into the second volume that I really fell
in love with the book. There’s such a wonderful exploration of motivation,
delusion, loyalty, and more. Who is Don Quixote hurting with his quest? Is it
wrong to allow him to remain convinced of his knighthood? The second volume
also pokes playful fun at the first volume, joking that the author exaggerated
stories, etc.
“The truth may be stretched thin, but it never breaks,
and it always surfaces above lies, as oil floats on water.”
Don Quixote’s naïveté and earnestness about his field of
knight errantry make him an easy target. People who want to play tricks on him
or friendly jokes or even rob him are easily able to because they know exactly
what his weaknesses are. He believes, without a doubt, in the code of knight
errantry that he holds himself to. He's also wise about so many things while
remaining blind to his own absurdity.
At times he reminded me of Polonius from “Hamlet”
spouting off wisdom to anyone who will listen. Sometimes it's good advice,
sometimes not but he believes it wholeheartedly. There's a purity in living a
life so full of earnestness that you believe in your dreams without faltering
and you hold yourself to a higher standard.
BOTTOM LINE: This isn’t a novel I’ll re-read every year
or anything, but it was a richly rewarding experience for me. It made me want
to believe in some of the magic in life and to not always question the motives
of others. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza will be with me for years to come.
"Then the very same thing, said the knight, happens
in the comedy and commerce of this world, where one meets with some people
playing the parts of emperors, others in the characters of popes, and finally,
all the different personages that can be introduced in a comedy; but, when the
play is done, that is, when life is at an end, death strips them of the robes
that distinguished their stations, and they become all equal in the grave.”
“Time ripens all things. No man is born wise.”
