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Caribbean Review
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Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00095576/00008
 Material Information
Title: Caribbean Review
Physical Description: Serial
Language: English
Creator: Latin American and Caribbean Center, Florida International University
Publisher: Latin American and Caribbean Center, Florida International University
Place of Publication: Miami, FL
Publication Date: 1969
Copyright Date: 1980
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Genre: serial   ( sobekcm )
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Source Institution: FIU: Special Collections
Holding Location: FIU: Special Collections
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 1553369
System ID: UF00095576:00008

Full Text


BULK RATE
U. S. POSTAGE
PAID
SAN JUAN. P. Ra
PERMIT No. 163


Published quarterly at 180 Hostos, B-507, Hato Rey, Puerto Rico, 00918 Summer; 1969 Vol. 1, No. 2

X17





.:k ., .... .

-: :














Photo from 'Puerto Rico' by Marvin Schwartz, Grosset & Dunlap


Editorial
SWe are most heartened by the response to our inaugural issue of
Caribbean Review. The congratulatory notes -and subscription
orders! from libraries, from scholars, and from individuals in myriad
walks of life demonstrate a growing awareness of, and interest in, this
region of the world.
As Peruvian novelist Mario Vargas Llosa said in our first issue,
writers "are abit like vultures, and the food they need most is... the
carrion of history." It seems certain that the southern half of this
hemisphere is entering a particularly dramatic stage of its history. In the
West Indies, former colonies are suffering the pangs of young
nationhood. Older nations there and farther south are engaged in
struggles which involve not only politics and social justice, but
generation gaps, the clash of new and old cultures, revolutions in
communication, and populations which are exploding and shifting from
rural to urban at the same time. Flocks of articulate "vultures" are
hovering over this vast scene, stretching from the Bahamas to Tierra del
Fuego, pens poised to reflect their versions of reality in novels, poetry
and non-fiction treatises. Our small role in this unfolding drama is to
help you keep track of the growing literature on the region. We shall do
our best to keep you informed of the most significant books published,
and offer critiques and samples from them. In this issue, we touch upon
Puerto Rico, Grenada, Anguilla, Peru, Cuba, Mexico, Brazil and


Colombia. In the Fall issue, more areas, more points of view, are in
store. We hope you'll enjoy this issue and help support our efforts by
subscribing, if you haven't already.

Contents

THE ANGUILLA IMBROGLIO: AS SEEN FROM LONDON,
by Gordon Lewis ... ........ ........ .... .... .2
GENTLEMAN WITHOUT COMPANY, a poem by Pablo Neruda
translated by Robert Bly ....... . . ........... 3
NERUDA IN ENGLISH, by Barry Wallenstein ......... .. 3
MASCARAS Y VEJIGANTES: THE FOLKLORE OF
PUERTO RICAN POLITICS,
by C. Albizu-Miranda & Norman Matlin ........... .. 5
CURANDERISMO: FOLK PSYCHIATRY, by Joan Koss ....... 6
THE TEACHINGS OF DON JUAN, by Carlos Castaneda ... ...7
THE LEAN LANDS, fiction by Agustin Yafiez,
translated by Ethel Brinton .. .. ... .. .... . .. ..8
LEVI-STRAUSS IN LATIN AMERICA, by David Goddard.... 10
COLOMBIA: COWBOY COUNTRY, by Barry Levine ....... 11
AN AFFAIR WITH PUERTO RICO, by Kal Wagenheim .. .. 11
SO IT WASN'T-A PICNIC, by Joel Magruder ............ .12
THE HERO AND THE CROWD, by Milton Pab6n ......... 13
RECENT BOOKS ......................... ..14










2 CAlBBAN rVICW


Contributors.


GORDON LEWIS's book "The
Growth of the Modern West Indies"
was recently published by Monthly
Review Press. He is now in London,
on sabbatical leave from U. of
Puerto Rico, working on a book
analyzing the racial issue in England
precipitated by the West Indian
presence . BARRY
WALLENSTEIN recently edited a
book on poetry for S.J. Crowell
and has worked as an assistant to
novelist James Farrell. His work has
appeared in "Commonweal" and
"Catholic World"'... C.
ALBIZU-MIRANDA and
NORMAN MATLIN are
co-directors of the Instituto
Psicol6gico de Puerto Rico. They
are working on a psychology of
political behavior in Puerto Rico ...
CARLOS CASTANEDA is a
graduate student in the Department
of Anthropology, University of
California, Los Angeles.. JOAN
KOSS, a spiritist medium, also
teaches anthropology at U. of
Puerto Rico... AGUSTIN YAfIEZ,
Mexico's noted writer, has
published six novels and is now
Secretary of Public Education in
Mexico. His translator,
Canadian-born ETHEL BRINTON,
is Director of Studies at the
Anglo-Mexican Institute in Mexico
City... DAVID GODDARD
reaches at Dalhousie University in
Halifax. N.S., Canada and is
completing a book on
Levi-Strauss. JOEL MAGRUDER
a student of Latin American
history, works with Puerto Rico
Information Service. His, articles
have appeared in Puerto Rican and
U.S. newspaper and magazines...
MILTON PABON, chairman of the
Dept. of Political Science at U. of'
Puerto Rico, recently co-authored
"Los derechos civiles y los partidos
politicos en la' sociedad-
puertorriquefa" (Edil, Rio Piedras,
P.R.).

Our Sponsors
In order to .guarantee editorial
freedom, Caribbean Review (while
accepting advertising) hopes to be
self-sufficient by subscription income,
and thus answerable only to its readers.
We urge readers to subscribe for the
longest period possible, hopefully lifetime
at $25, to provide us with needed,
working capital in the difficult early
stages. The following people have helped'
sponsor this publication by sending us
lifetime subscriptions: A. & S. David, D.
Droisen, J. Summers, E. Alderando, H.
Stanton.

CAIPBBEAN r1VIEw


Vol. I, No. 2


Summer, 1969


Editors:
Kal. Wagenheim,
Barry Bernard Levine

Caribbean Review, a books-oriented,
quarterly journal, ispublished by
Caribbean Review, Inc., a'non-profit
corporation. Mailing address:' 180
Hostos, B-507, Hato Rey, Puerto Rico,
00918. Available by subscription only: 1
year, S3; 2 years, $5.50; 3 years, $7.50;
lifetime, $25. Advertising accepted (see
rates elsewhere in this issue). Unsolicited
manuscripts (book reviews, translations,
essays, etc.) are welcomed, but should be
accompanied by self-addressed stamped
envelope.


The Anguilla Imbroglio:



As Seen From London
by Gordon Lewis


Anguilla has been a nine days wonder
in England. The popular press drummed
it up as a vast Gilbertian comic-opera, the
fantasia of the post-war Ealing studios
film comedy A Passage to Pimlico come
to real life. Both the BBC and the ITV
television programmes devoted large
periods of their peak hour times to
on-the-spot reports from their field
reporters; Dr. Leopold Kohr was
interviewed by the 24 Hours programme
from its Cardiff studios, although it is
doubtful if the mass audience understood
or appreciated much of Dr. Kohr's
enthusiasm for little Anguilla as sturdy
protagonist for his new Caribbean
utopian community; while all sorts of
spurious experts, including West Indians
from the BBC Caribbean section, were
permitted to exhibit their pathetic
ignorance of the inner realities of the
situation to an audience even more
ignorant. The underground sheets of the
radical politico-sex cults that proliferate
in English society acclaimed the
Anguillan UDI almost as if it were a
trumpet call against mass bureaucracy, in
the manner, say, of G.K. Chesterton's
novel The Napoleon of Notting Hill.
There was a House of Commons debate in
which the Labour Government's case was
torn to shreds by members of all political
shades. And in the middle of all the
uproar nobody, except the leaders of the
West Indian Standing Conference, based
in London, thought of asking the small-
colony of exiled Anguillans, some 500 in
all, who live in Slough, just outside
London, what they thought about it.

For the Caribbean professional like
myself, at once West Indian and Welsh,
there are grim lessons to be learned from
all this. It underlined once more the
racialist double standard that has
characterized English attitudes to the
Commonwealth Caribbean: diplomatic
overtures for Rh'odesia, "gunboat
diplomacy" for Guyana and Anguilla. But
there is also a larger double standard as
the historical background to the affair: a
double standard of British policy, in
which the white colonies were to be
granted, ultimately, dominion status
while the black colonies had to be
satisfied with Crown Colony status. There
is the lesson, especially interesting to
Puerto Rican independentistas, secreted
in the fact that the formula of
"associated statehood" which the-
Webster leadership contemptuously threw
into the Caribbean sea, along with Mr.
Whitlock and Mr. Lee, was borrowed by
British Government constitutional
draughtsmen from the US-Puerto Rico
relationship: in such fashion does the
colonialist ineptitude of one metropolitan
colonialism find itself borrowed by
another. And this, even more, perhaps
illustrates the growing Americanisation of
British politics; more and more, London
plays a subservient Athens to the Rome
of the American power.
Even more. The frantic response with
which the British public reacted to the
Anguilla affair is, I think, psychologically
interesting. For- its sheer intensity can
only be understood as part of the
post-1945 mood of English society. The
loss of empire has meant the
relinquishment, extremely painful, of


imperial delusions. As the reality of
world-wide power has thus disappeared
the Englishman .must make do with
romantic nostalgia. Hence the popularity
of books that rewrite for him the glory of
the earlier imperial age: Colin Cross's Rise
and Fall of the British Empire and James
Morris's Pax Brittanica. Hence, too, the
amazing popularity of the recent TV
series of the Forsyte Saga. Anguilla fed


Photo from 'Puerto Rico,' by Marvin
Schwartz, Grosset & Dunlap


this temper like a West Indian cane fire.
The liberal psyche, always romantically
eager to espouse.a foreign cause -Spain,-
Biafra, Vietnam- now had a cause made
to order. This is why so much of the
comment in the liberal weeklies played
upon the" general ,theme: the British.
neglect, over the centuries, of the small
colonies of the Caribbean backwater. In
-this, too, at'the same time, there was a
real guilt-complex, the rage and
indignation almost certainly expressing,
subtly, the corroding guilt that the
English liberal conscience feels about the
growth in the last two years, in'the guise
of Toryite Powellism, of. a new,
indigenous racialism in British politics,
turned against the 'resident black
minorities of the new multi-racial English
society. It is a real feeling of contrition,
only perhaps marred by the temptation,
so evident in all the newspaper pieces, to
see the Anguillans as a simple, innocent
folk-people living out a cultural
childhood in a Caribbean Eden. That in
itself, of course, is a form of racial
prejudice. .
The entire episode, indeed, can only
be seen in terms of a racialist antipathy
that infects all elements of English
society. A recently published book like
V.G. Kiernan's Lords of Human Kind has
fully catalogued the various sources, and
manners of expression, of the English
attitudes of contempt, hate, fear, towards
the non-European peoples-over the last
three centuries Anguilla, in one way, is
only the latest of the expressions. It is
worth noting that this has little to do
with traditional English political
divisions. The most sympathetic of
statements came from the liberal press,
like the Guardian, or the conservative,
like the Spectator, some of the most
hostile from socialist journals like the
New Statesman. A form of "left-wing
racialism" is, as a matter of fact, not the
least ugly of phenomena in the England
of the 1960s. Alf Garnett, the prototype


of racialism in the mass media, is an
imaginatively reconstructed working-class
"little Englander" hostile to all that is
culturally or racially different, and all
recent surveys indicate that he enjoys the
support, tacit or overt, of the majority of
working-class England. Nor is the type of
the English gentleman, the traditional
embodiment of all that is decent in the
English tradition, immune to this disease,
and even a mind as liberal and humane as
the late Harold Nicolson could confide to
his diaries that he could not stomach the
physical presence of a Negro. Many of
such people can readily see the
immorality of British official actions in
Anguilla. But few of them will be
prepared to lend an equal sympathy to
West Indians once West Indians are living
on their own doorsteps, in th gradually
developing ghettoes of the English
provincial industrial conglomerations.
Although one would like to think so,
then, Anguilla does not represent a
belated realization, on the part of the
English public, of their long-neglected
responsibility for the human debris that
British colonialism left behind it in the
West Indies. It was good enough for a
stick with which to beat the Wilson
government. It was even "good for a
laugh": Anguillan matrons castigating
hapless young British troops. Inspector
Way's tropical kit lost in the sea, the
whole idiocy involved in the spectacle of
the British forces using a sledgehammer
to crack a nut. But for the many
politically conscious West Indians in
London, many of whom I spoke with, it
was the final indictment of British
government and people alike. They felt,
in their hearts, that the real decisions, in
any case, were not being made in
Basseterre, or Port of Spain, or even
London, but in Washington. They were
angry because the affair simply
encouraged the English, even the most
liberal, to treat West Indian affairs, as
they have always treated them, as a
comedy of errors, instead of the real
tragedy that they are. And the West
Indian did not even have the consolation
that Anguilla, like Algeria in the politics
of the Fifth French Republic, provided
the occasion for bringing down a
metropolitan government; no
Westminster cabinet, indeed, has been
toppled by a West Indian crisis since
1839. At the most, Mr. Webster and his
island followers have proved that perhaps
Carlyle was wrong in his gibe that the
English are stupid in speech and wise in
action. L

To the Editors:
A new anthology of writings by
unpublished young writers is being edited at
present. We are still seeking contributors from
North America, South America, Africa, and the
Caribbean, especially. If you know of any
writers who would be interested in participating
in this collection, we would very much
appreciate their sending us both poetry, prose
or experimental works of any kind.
In addition, we will consider book length
manuscripts in any field, both fiction, and
non-fiction, for publication.
We would very much appreciate any
attention which you might give this matter in
your Review, since we are a new publisher
formed in 1968.
Sol Battle
Panther House, Limited
Box 3552, NYC 10017










CAI?BBCAN rEcIE 3


CABALLERO SOLO


by Pablo Neruda


GENTLEMAN'WITHOUT COMPANY


Los j6venes homosexuals y las muchachas amorosas,
y las largas viudas que sufren el delirante insomnio,
y las j6venes sefioras prefiadas hace treinta horas,
y los roncos gatos que cruzan mijardin en tinieblas,
como un collar de palpitantes ostras sexuales
rodean mi residencia solitaria,,
como enemigos establecidos contra mi alma,,
come conspiradores en traje de dormitorio
que cambiaran.largos besos espesos por consigna.
El radiante verano conduce a los enamorados
en uniforms regimientos melanc6licos,
hechos de gordas y flacas y alegres y tristes parejas:
bajo los elegantes cocoteros, junto al oc6ano y la luna,
hay una continue vida de pantalones y polleras,
un rumor de medias de seda acariciadas,
y senos femeninos que brillan como ojos.
El pequefio empleado, despu6s de much,
despues del tedio semanal, y las novels leidas de noche en
cama,.
ha definitivamente seducido a su vecina,
y la lleva a los miserables dnemat6grafos
donde los heroes son potros o principes apasionados,
y acaricia sus piernas llenas de dulce vello
con sus ardientes y hfmedas manos que huelen a cigarrillo.
Ios atardeceres del seductor y las noches de los esposos
y las horas despues del almuerzo en que losj6venes estudiantes
y las jovenes estudiantes, y los sacerdotes se masturban,
y los animals fornican directamente,
y las abejas huelen a sangre, y las moscas zumban col6ricas,
y los primos juegan extraiiamente con sus primas,
y los m6dicos miran con furia al marido de lajoven paciente,
y las horas de la mariana en que el professor, como por desauido,
cumple con su deber conyugal y desayuna,
y mis ain, los adilteros, que se aman con verdadero amor
sobre lechos altos y largos como embarcaciones:
seguramente, eternamente me rodea
este gran bosque respiratorio y enredado
con grandes flores como bocas y dentaduras
y. negras races en forma de unas y zapatos,


The homosexual young men and the love-mad girls,
and the long widows who suffer from a delicious inability to sleep,
and the young wives who have been pregnant for thirty hours,
and the hoarse cats that cross my garden in the dark,
these, like a necklace of throbbing sexual oysters,
surround my solitary house,
like enemies set up against my soul,
like members of a conspiracy dressed in sleeping clothes
who give each other as passwords long and profound kisses.
The shining summer leads out the lovers
in low-spirited regiments that are all alike
made up of fat and thin and cheerfuland sullen pairs;
under the elegant coconut palms, near the sea and the moon,
there is a steady movement of trousers and petticoats,
and a hum from the stroking of silk stockings,
and women's breasts sparkling like eyes.
The small-time employee, after many things,
after the boredom of the week, and the novels read in bed at night,
has once and for all seduced the woman next door
and now he escorts her to the miserable movies,
where the heroes are either colts or passionate princes,
and he strokes her legs sheathed in their sweet down
with his warm and damp hands that smell of cigarettes.
The evenings of the woman-chaser and the nights of the husbands
come together like two bed-sheets and bury me,
and the hours after lunch, when the young male students
and the young women students, and the priests are masturbating,
and the animals are riding each other frankly,
and the bees have an odor-of blood, and the flies buzz in anger,
and cousins play strange games with their girl-cousins,
and doctors look with rage at the husband of the young patient,
and the morning hours, when the professor, as if absentminded,
performs his marital duty, and has breakfast,
and still more, the adulterers, who love each other with true love
on beds high and huge as ocean liners,
this immense forest, entangled and breathing,
hedges me around firmly on all sides forever
with huge flowers like mouths and rows of teeth
and black roots that look like fingernails and shoes.


Repnrnted with permission from 'Twenrt Poems of Pablo Neruda.' chosen and translated
Sb James Wright and Robert BI\. Sixties Press. Madison. Madison, Minn. 56256.


Neruda In English

by Barry Walenstein.


TWENTY POEMS- Pablo Neruda.
Tr. by James Wright, Robert Bly. The
Sixties Press. $2.,

HEIGHTS OF MACCHU PICCHU.
Pablo Neruda. Tr. by Nathaniel Tarn.
Farrar, Straus & Giroux. $1.95.

WE ARE MANY- Pablo Neruda.
,Grossman Publishers in association with
Cape Goliard, London, N.Y.

SELECTED POEMS OF PABLO
NERUDA. Tr. by Ben Bellitt. Grove
Press. $2.95.

It is becoming cliche to lament the
lack of publications in English, available
to the North American reader, of the
poetry of Pablo Neruda. And yet, the
Chilean poet is possibly the major literary
figure of Latin America; and symbol of
Latin America, if, when figures are
extended in social and political contexts,
they become potential symbols.
Recently, however, there has been a
stir of interest regarding not only
Neruda's poetry, but his stature as "poet
as political figure." Since 1961 there have
been four bi-lingual editions of his
poetry. Three of the four have appeared
within the last two years. In 1967, the
poet, who had not been allowed to enter
the United States for manr years, did
enter under the auspices of the PEN
Congress. In response to his presence at
such a meeting, the press awarded Neruda
much space. 'The attention has been


focused on'Neruda as a political poet, as
there is somewhat of a revival of such
poets at this time.
The attention has raised, at least to
my mind, the question as to a ppet's
responsibility in regard to political
realities, to society generally. A more
technical; but not unrelated, question
also emerges: how does the poet integrate
ideology with a particular form that is
not usually given to .direct statement,
much less political propaganda? We have,
to be sure, a group of poets I am
speaking specifically of a number of poets


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popular among many Leftists in the
1930's (e.g. Kenneth Fearing, Edwin
Rolfe, Lola Ridge, Sol Funaroff) who
addressed their poetry almost exclusively
to political and party matters. I quote a
stanza from Edwin Rolfe's "Unit
Meeting":
Here, or another room will be our meet-
ing place next week and the week after,
next year, next decade. No heroics, no
orations, no false eyes at glory( glory is
completed deed, no dream-designation)
but carefully planning, after day's
work's over, we pledge our days and
nights, our years to communism.

We see now how dated such poetry
becomes where there is little
evocativeness beyond the dominant and
dominating political ideology which
inspired the poem.
Yeats,, a poet who often addressed


himself to political ideas, said that when a
man argues with other men he is speaking
prose; when he argues with himself he is
speaking poetry. This illuminating notion
serves as a starting point in discussing the
recent bi-lingual editions of Pablo
Neruda's poetry.
Pablo Neruda's Twenty Poems,
translated by James Wright and Robert
Bly is the best short introduction to the
total range of Neruda's poetry. It
contains samplings from three of his
greatest books, Residencia En La Tierra,
Canto General, and the Odas Elementales.
The editors provide a short but
thoughtful introduction and, the book
ends with an interview between Pablo
Neruda and Robert Bly (himself a poet as
well as an editor) entitled "The Lamb and
the Pine Cone" which took place June


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4 CAIBBAN CVIEW


1966 in New York City.
In that interview, the Latin poet
speaks of his relation to surrealism and to
individual North American poets such as
Whitman. Most interesting, however, is
the way Neruda speaks, particularly to a
North American audience, about political
poetry, "You see, I come from a country
which is very political. Those who fight
have great support from the masses.
Practically all the writers of Chile are out
to the Left there are almost no
exceptions ... As poets we are really in
touch with the people, which is very
rare." It is important for the American
reader, who generally regards his poets
with suspicion or tolerant indifference, to
understand, as he reads such a poet as
Neruda, Vallejo or Jiminez, their social
context. Given our rather insular and
particularly urban view of the political
and proletarian poet, it is startling to
discover in Neruda's work, amidst a
pervasive political ideology, images,
rhythms, and patterns of language
absolutely consistent with Romantic
nature poetry. Neruda remarks, "Maybe I
am a foolish nineteenth century nature
poet like your great Thoreau... In the
poetry, this acts as a gloss or frame of
reference as the images from nature
integrate in a special, often primitivistic
way.
In a small essay, 'Towards An
Improper Poetry", printed as preface to
the Grove Press edition of the Selected
Poems, Neruda reaffirms this desire to
connect "reserved perception" of each
experience to physical reality. He is
similar to the American poet William
Carlos Williams for whom "so much
depends upon ... in how we perceive
physical reality and the various
relationships implicit in pattern
arrangements. Poetry solely as,ideas had
little attraction for Williams either.
This must be kept in mind in "The
United Fruit Co.," one of Neruda's most
famous short poems. The poem is a swift,
deeply felt invective against U.S.
capitalism when that system dominates
"the central coast of my own land the
delicate waist of America." The theme of
political tyranny is thus developed. But
here we have our perceptions widen as
the last stanza opens to include images
not at all limited to the special perception
of the political point of view espoused:
Meanwhile Indians are falling
- into thesugared chasms
of the harbors, wrapped
for burial in the mist of the dawn:
a body rolls, a thing
that has no name, a fallen cipher


a cluster of dead fruit
thrown down on the dump.
(I find the Sixties Press translation
smoother and more faithful to the
original than the version in the Selected
Poems.) Finally, the poem is about
human suffering, and is given a
pointedness and poignancy as specific
conditions are decried before the final
eight lines. Neruda is aware that a poem
is, in itself, an action, and can only
suggest ideas, since its action is
self-contained. If the reader extracts such
ideas for his own personal and political
action, he is not violating the poetry, but
the poetry nowhere insists upon this, nor
does its life depend on any future
conduct.
Again, in "The Dictator", another of
the Canto General (1950) poems selected
in Twenty Poems, the political content is
as clear as in Yeats's "Easter 1916", but
it has no utilitarian value or propagandist
purpose. The poem begins, "An odor has
remained among the sugar cane! / a
mixture of blood and body, a
penetrating/ petal that-brings nausea." It,
moves from injustices of the "delicate
dictator," offering the recognition of
destruction following careless brutality,
to these moving final lines, "Harred has
grown scale on scale,/blow on, blow, in
the ghastly water of the swamp,/ with a
snout full of ooze and silence."

The Robert Bly collection includes,
also from Canto General, the short third
section from the Heights of Macchu
Picchu, and though the poem should be
read in its 'entirety, this section, does
convey a complete effect. The theme of
blighted, urban man when "every day lost
heart" is clear even without that long
sequence of poems.
The Odas Elementales (1954-47) are
represented in this edition, but not to the
extent they are in the larger Selected
Poems. Residencia poems (1925- 1935)
which work with surrealistic images
already contain patterns of human
suffering, e.g. "Nothing But Death" and
"Melancholy Inside Families." These
poems are a bridge to the more politically
oriented poems which Neruda began
writing around theSpanish War. Series III
(1935-1945) of the Residencia poems is
not at all represented in Twenty Poems,
but is in the Selected Poems, and is
necessary for a picture of Nertida's
development at the time of the Spanish,
War, an event which acted as a catalyst to
his development as a political poet. The


poem "How Spain Was", while clearly
marking a change for a rather inner
directed, surrealist, yet "anti-modernist"
poet, is rich in the imagery of surrealism
that characterized the earlier poems. This
is the one poem I most miss in Robert
Bly's otherwise well-balanced and
carefully selected Twenty Poems.

Incidentally, the Sixties Press has
brought out editions of the poetry of
Vallejo, Jimenez and Bias de Otero as
well as Neruda.
The Heights of Macchu Picchu, the
longest work of the Canto General,
appeared complete in an American
edition only as late as 1967, edited and
translated by Nathaniel Tarn. This poem
is often printed in parts but the student
of Neruda will want to experience the
poem whole. Mr. Tarn acknowledges the
help of Pablo Neruda and Robert
Pring-Mill, who affixes an illuminating
preface.
The poem was written in September,
1945, two years after a triumphant return
to Chile from his consul-general post in
Mexico. During his homeward journey he
made a trip to Macchu Picchu. The
central symbol of the poem is "the ascent
to the ruins of this lost Inca city high up
in the Peruvian Andes, whose very
existence was unknown till 1911, though
it is barely eight miles from Cuzco."
If the Canto General is a vast
cosmogonyy, a Nerudian vision of the
origin and creation of the world and
American man," Macchu Picchu is an
exploration of the poet's inner world and
the past. and present of Latin American
man, with suggestions of prophecy
throughout. This is Neruda's central
work, sustained through its seven parts,
opening up towards utterances which are
public and petsonil at the same time. I
recommend this bi-lingual volume most
strongly to all readers of Neruda's poetry.
We are Alany is a small, finely made
volume that presents a revealing cover
design. A photograph of the poet, in
meditative repose, is covered over by a
front flap with a cut-out of the hammer
and sickle. One sees Neruda first through
the symbol of the Communist Party.
Oddly enough, however, these poems,
translated by Alastair Reid are
non-polemical. Without a knowledge of
Neruda's earlier political poetry and his
Communist affiliation, one would almost
certainly overlook the political tones
which are muted in this volume. We have


Photo from 'Puerto Rico,' by Marvin Schwartz, Grosset & Dunlap.


here a return to the sensual, imagistic and
surrealistic poetry of Neruda's youth
although it is free of the sometimes
involuted obscurities of that earlier
poetry. A few of the more interesting
poems in the book are autobiographical.
"We Are Many" opens:
Of the many men whom I am, whom we
are,
I cannot settle on a single one.
They are lost to me under the cover of
clothing,
They have departed for another city.
This is poetry as direct speech, but then
fancy takes over;
When a stately home burst into flames,
Instead of the fireman I summon,
an arsonist bursts on the scene,,
and he is I. There is nothing I can do.
What must I do to distinguish myself?
How can I put myself together?
The poem, which is both self-searching
and self-immolating, ends on a note we
are familiar with from earlier poems: this.
is a gloss on the entire Canto General, "I
am going to school myself so well in
things/ That, when I try to explain my
problems,/ I shall speak, not of self, but
of geography." Another revelatory poem
is "Fear", which speaks simply and
directly to the reader about the poet and
his attitude towards his fame and art.
These poems somehow seem slight,
though, an adjunct to the major work.
Neruda, the poet of simplicity, is
better seen in the Odas Elementales
(1954-57) of which a large number
,appear in Ben Bellitt's Grove Press edition
of the Selected Poems of Pablo Neruda.
Louis Mongui6 presents a substantial
introduction to Bellitt's translation. This,
too, is a bi-lingual edition, and contains
more of Neruda's poetry than any single
volume available to the North American
readerI It has many of the Residencia
poems, Series I-III 1925-1945) and a
large sampling of Canto General (1950)
and a yet larger selection from the Odas
Elementales. The last two sections of the
book contain Voyage and Homecoming
(1959) and the Book of Vagaries (1958),
both related to the Odas in their
simplicity and wry humor.
Such poems as "Artichoke," "A Boy
With a Hare," '"The Smell of
Cedarwood," "In Praise of Oil," "A
Lemon," "Cat," all demonstrate the
poet's gift for rooting his observation in
sensual reality. These short-lined, free
verse poems are rich in drama. There is a
tension developed that has little to do
with the actual physical description, 'The
artichoke/ of delicate heart/ erect/ in its
battle-dress, builds/ its minimal cupola;/
keeps/ stark/ in its scallop of scales./
Around it,/ demoniac vegetables/ bristle
their thicknesses,/ devise/ tendrils and
belfries.. ." In the middle, the drama is
complicated, or resolved, with the
entrance of Maria who came "with her
hamper/ to/ make trial/ of an
artichoke..." The ultimate drama, while
developing out of Neruda's
acknowledgement of the physical world,
is one of human pathos. The very fone of
the end of the poem implies themes that
are political in the sense that the poet is
committing his life to the human
condition in all its aspects, social as well
as personal:

So you have it;
a vegetable, armed,
a profession
(call it an artichoke)
whose end
is millenial.
We taste of that
sweetness,
dismembering
scale after scale.
We eat of a halcyon paste:
it is green at the artichoke heart:










CAPBBCAN REVIEW




Mascaras y Vejigantes: TheFolklore


Of Puerto Rican Politics


by C. Albizu-Miranda and Norman Matlin


A political party is a society in
miniature. Within the party, the drama of
love and hate, of struggle, -alliance and
friendship are acted out, in much the
same manner as they are in the larger
community. Yet, there are differences.
The indifferent, who form so high a
proportion of the society at large, tend to
stay out of political parties. The drama is,
left to the intense.
Any particular party will differ, also,
in that its members will share an
orientation to some greater or lesser
degree uncharacteristic to the society as a
whole. The orientation may be
formalized enough to be considered an
ideology; more often, it is nothing more
than- a common set of prejudices.
However devoted the party may be to all
of the people, it must be more
sympathetic to some than to others.
While the party is, basically, an
institution for the acquisition and
administration of power, it will have an
orientation not simply because people
always stratify, but because it is the
orientation which gives the struggle for
power meaning. A man may stand for
office when he stands for nothing-else; a
party, never. It must have some product
differentiation.
Yet, the party's orientation, a vital
asset, is also its greatest liability. It is an
opinion upon which the community has
not agreed, else it would not be at issue.
The party must seek support from those
who do not agree with its orientation to
gain a majority, even while it stresses its
orientation to those already converted to
keep intact its cadre of devoted workers.
No party seeking mass support can avoid
speaking out of both sides of its mouth at
the same time. Paradox is an inevitable
element of democracy,
Fortunately, political parties need
not depend on the same people to work
both sides of the street. They develop
specialists. We may characterize these
people by the directions in which they
face as outside men and inside men. The
outside man- tends to soft-pedal the
party's basic orientation and to focus on
issues which will attract the
uncommitted. He is against slums and
drug addiction and for motherhood. The
inside man concentrates on stimulating
the faithful. He may be an ideologue or a
party hack, depending on the size and
type of party.
It is reasonable to expect the rank
and file of any particular political party
to prefer inside men to outside men.
Given their choice, they'll always take a
Barry Goldwater to a Nelson Rockefeller,
a Luis Negr6n L6pez to a Santiago
Polanco Abreu. The rub is that it is
outside men who win elections. In the
normal course of events, the cooler heads
within the party prevail and the party will
select the man most likely to please the
members of the opposition. This course is
not without its dangers, for a party may
find itself having won an extremely
hollow victory. Outside men do not
usually change their style when they get
into office.
Party members, then, must make a
very nice calculation. They must try to
determine how far they can go to gain a
victory without imperiling the reasons for
which they want the victory. It is not


surprising that agreement within the
party is hard come by. No matter what
-the result, we may expect recriminations
afterwards.
The '68 Puerto Rico elections may
be seen, among other ways, as the
triumph of an outside man over an inside
man. If Luis Ferr6 turned out to be less
of an outside man in office than was
anticipated, it cannot be gainsaid that his
campaign was as non-ideological 'as
respectability would permit.
The smaller the party, the less


likelihood it has of winning, the more
likely it is to fall into the hands of inside
men. Splinter parties can rapidly
degenerate into private clubs as their
members spend more and more time
convincing each other. As the outside-
men move outside, the party fragments
into ever smaller groups, each of whom
has the right answer. The fights become
more bitter the less there is to fight over.
In effect, the smaller parties remain
exempt from the logic of democratic
politics by forfeiting their chances of
winning the election. Larger parties win
elections at the risk of forfeiting their
political aims.
The democratic system favors the
middle-of-the-roader. It works most easily
where most of the voters are
middle-of-the-roaders, but it works even
when they are not. Extremist voters
hesitate to vote for the candidate of their
choice for fear of wasting their votes.
They will vote for second best to keep
third best out of office. Rational
considerations make one settle for half a
loaf. Conscience doth make cowards of us
all.
While middle-of-the-roaders have the
advantage as candidates, they may not be
particularly sympathetic figures. They are
the more successful as they have the least
principles to sacrifice. The perfect.
candidate has none at all. He sways as the
political winds blow. To persons who
view their politics in terms of morality, or
even esthetics, the middle-of-the-roader is
a disreputable or, even, reprehensible
character.
Centuries of democratic practice,
however, enable peoples to internalize the
politics of consensus. One can, in time,
even like to learn what one does. In
countries of long-standing democratic
tradition it is hot the middle-of-
the-roader who is suspect. He is seen as
moderate, as flexible, as reasonable. It is
the extremist who is the suspicious


character. Any kind of excess may be
expected from a man who is willing to
lose an election for the sake of his
principles. A man who would rather be
right than President can hardly be right.
It is in the Anglo-Saxon world where
this internalization of the democratic
logic has gone the furthest. The English
have finally succeeded in making a virtue
of necessity. This ability is enshrined in
the word "compromise". A compromise
is an arrangement by which each side
agrees to barter some of its principles for


the sake of an agreement. The word, in
English, has a positive connotation. It is
impossible to translate it into any other
language, for the corresponding words are
all shady, if not downright nefarious.
When a people have reached this stage of
internalization, politics holds few
surprises. It is predictable to the point of
boredom.
Politics in Puerto Rico shows no such
bland quality. However much Puerto
Ricans may vote in accord with the
democratic logic, they have not yet
cultivated the fine art of hypocrisy to the
point of enjoying it. A typical voter,
asked his political opinion, will answer:
"I voted for Fulano, but really I'm in
favor of Futriico." Legend has it that
every Popular is, at heart, an Estadista or
an Independentista. Other parties, while
not in such a parlous state, have their
share of political' marriages of
convenience. The Puerto Rican votes with
his mind, not his heart. His sympathies
cannot be deduced from the election
returns.
The Puerto Rican finds himself
impelled by the democratic logic to vote
for figures that he does not really trust.
To explore this paradox, we must have
recourse to the stock figures of Puerto
Rican fiestas: the mbscaras and the
vejigantes.
The mascara, named for the mask he
wears, is costumed as a comic figure.
Seemingly harmless, he takes great pains
to conceal his identity, saying little,
speaking in falsetto voice. He is all the
more subtle and menacing by not
showing his claws. The more human-like
his mask is, the more patent is its
inhumanity.
The vejigante, on the other hand, is
at no pains to conceal his menace. His
very name is taken from the animal
bladder with which he threatens
passers-by. However fearsome his
appearance, he does no real damage. He


conceals his face with a careta, a large
face, a caricatured extension of the face
behind it rather than a concealment. The
vejigante's frank admission of his
fearsomeness makes his personal identity
irrelevant. He has demonstrated his
honesty. An open threat can be evaluated
and dealt with. The vejigante can enter
into a dialogue with the community. He
sings out his menace and the people reply
in kind.
The Puerto Rico political world is
divided into mascaras and vejigantes.
One's heart responds to a political figure
not in terms of the people to whom he
talks but in terms of what he has'to say.
The ideologue, however much he talks to
the members of his own party, is
overheard by all. He makes ;no bones
about what he intends to do. His menace
is open and aboveboard. The careta
reflects the face. The ideologue, as a man
of principle, is a vejigante. We sympathize
with him, even when we don't agree with
him.
The party man is devoted to
organization, not principle. He wears the
fair mascara of sweet reasonableness.
We'll never know how he'll vote on any
particular issue. But, never fear, yo te
conozco, mascarita.
Outside men are not so easily
classified in Puerto Rican politics. They
face the suspicion of being mascaras, but
they need not inevitably be classified as
rumscaras. A political figure who looks
powerful and -speaks straightforwardly
will be seen-as a vejigante. If he tries too
hard to demonstrate his impotence and
innocence, he succeeds only in being
recognized as a mascara. It is not
reasonableness that is respected, but
principle.
The situation makes life hard for
Puerto Rican politicians. One wins
elections by being an outside man, pliable
enough to seek support frori a wide
spectrum of opinion. The agility involved
makes one a mascara, an unsympathetic
figure, suspect to all.
If we vote with our minds, we run
our political parties with our hearts. The
rationality of the first Tuesday in
November does not survive to Wednesday
morning. It is, after all, the wishy-washy
uncommitted voter who decides the
elections. The people with enough
interest to join a party have enough
interest to fight for their principles. Thus,
a candidate who does the best at the
ballot box fares the worst in intra-party
struggles. His very success" makes him
suspect.
The last two years have seen crises in
all the Puerto Rican political parties. The
status plebiscite in 1967 precipitated a
split within the Estadistas. Ferre, an
outside man, naturally supported the
reasonable course of participating in the
referendum. So direct an appeal to
uncommitted voters could not fail to
make Ferri's loyalty suspect to those
most closely identified with the party
machinery. As it turned out, the bulk of
the party members followed Ferri right
out of the party. Garcia Mendez, as party
man, was even more mascara than Ferri.
Yet there is little doubt that many
Statehooders who support Ferri are
deeply suspicious that his profession of
loyalty to Statehood is but a mask for his










6 _CAIBBEAN FEVICW


political ambitions. Even while Populares
and Independentistas bewail Ferr6's
attempts to sneak Statehood in through
the kitchen door, Statehooders suspect
him of dragging his feet, leaving Populares
in positions of authority, failing to
appoint ad hoc political status
committees full of Statehood men.
Among Independentistas, the break
is even more severe. The party being
smaller, inside men are more powerful.
Not only did the P.I.P. stay out of the
plebiscite, but, the "bulk of its members
abstained. Nevertheless, when '68 rolled
around, the party found itself nominating
Tofio Gonz;lez, an outside man. His
eminently reasonable campaign did not
reassure the Independentistas. His
running far .ahead of the ticket, which
should have, by the democratic logic,
solidified his position in the party,
weakened it. The willingness of
non-Inidependentistas to vote for Tofio
revealed him as a mascara to the party.
The break was inevitable. Unlike Ferr6,
however, Tofio's opponents within the
P.I.P. were vejiyantes. The devotion to
principle, which cost them so dearly at
the ballot box; earned them the
sympathy of the Independentista rank
and file. While Tono may eventually win
over the present membership of the
P.I.P.,- his initial support will have to
come from outside the party.
Toflo's position is the epitome of the
dilemma of the Puerto Rican politician,
He has all the qualities which would make
for success at the ballot box. He defends
an honorable position which cannot help
but tall forth a resonance in the heart of
every Puerto Rican. Even those who fear
independence eye it wistfully. He is
moderate in his approach, reasonable in
his discourse, flexible in regard to details.
All of these qualities make it easy for
large portions of the Puerto Rican public
to vote for Tofio.
Precisely these same qualities make it
difficult for him to earn public sympathy.
How can one help but be. suspicious of
one who calls for independence, but not;
.now; who wants a separation from North
Americans, to cooperate with North"
Americans later; who solicits the support
Af non-Independentisras now in his
crusade for Puerrorriquehidad, to fight it
aut with them later when the moment for
independence comes? By the democratic
bgic, these positions combine
maneuverability in the short run with
ledicarion to-an ideal in the long'run. In
*he folklore of Puerto Rican politics, they
lave the tenor'of the mascara.
The problem for Tofio is how to
becomee a vejigante without
wer-simplifying the issues. To those who
believee in independence now, whatever
he conditions, Tofio cannot help but
Appear a mascara. To the vast bulk of
'uerto Rican public, who do not share
his commitment, Tofio's image will
depend upon the honesty and power with
vhich he can convey an inherently
complexx position. That such a task is not
impossible has been proven by Muiioz
Aarin's success in the 1940's. Toiio's
politicall future, and perhaps Puerto
tico's, depends on his ability to duplicate
hat feat.
There is some indication that he may
,e able to do just that. In contrast to
theirr Independentista leaders who have
combinedd the adherence to moral
principall of the vejigante with the sadness
If the mascara, Toiio has brought an air
)f open vejigante joy to the movement.
rhe people have responded to him with
nore enthusiasm than any
ndependentista has generated in a
lecade.
Vejigante a la boya... Q


Curanderismo:



Folk Psychiatry

by Joan Koss -


CURANDERISMO: MEXICAN-
AMERICAN FOLK PSYCHIATRY. Ari
Kiev, M.D. 189 pp. Free Press. 1-968.

Two million Mexican-Americans and
one million Mexicans live in the
southwestern United States. Although
some have lived there since before Texas
joined the Union, their traditions are
Mexican. San Antonio, the site of this
study, has a Mexican-American
population totaling 60 percent'of its half
million people. Most of them live "across
the tracks," impoverished, largely
illiterate, burdened by their rural agrarian
traditions within an urban environment.
They are becoming "Americanized,"
but some Mexican institutions persist,
apparently because they buffer the
conflict generated when Mexicans try to
become Americans.
Curanderismo the Mexican folk
curing system, is one of these institutions;
it seems to satisfy pressing needs and also
bind individuals within ethnic group
security. All societies have their own
curing institutions that function as
culturally-defined psychotherapies.
Western psychiatry has roots in the folk
cures of Western Europe. Curanderisnmo
stems from 15th century Spanish
medicine, Indian beliefs, and Spanish
peasant practices.
The curandero believes that his
power to heal is God-given. He treats his
patients with massages, steaming.
cupping, counseling, prayer, and
confession. Medicinal and magical herbs
and teas are also used.
'The author believes that
curanderismo operates as successful
therapy. allaying anxieties, providing
knowledge to explain distress, and
defining support and acceptance for the
sick individual.
He compares curanderisnio as
"pre-scientific psychiatry" to
contemporary therapy. He feels that any'
therapeutic system must be evaluated
from the standpoint of its fit in a
particular socio-cultural context, a point
that should disturb the "scientifically"
oriented persons who believe in modern
psycho-therapy. For KIiev, the more
serious disorders (organic psychoses,


depression, schizophrenia, etc.) are better
handled with modern diagnostic methods
and drug therapy. But with less severe,
"neurotic" disorders, curanderismo is
relatively successful.
He says: "there is a Mexican way of
being mentally ill, and it is difficult to
recognize some of its syndromes, relative
to our own nomenclature." Thus, the
curandero's methods work better with
Mexican and Mexican-American'
depressed neurotics since they offer them
reassurance and support. The curandero
eases the depressed patient's sense of guilt
rather than intensifying it, the usual
effect of modern methods of probing into
emotionally charged areas of patients'
lives.
It is rather disturbing that this
otherwise competent book insists upon
treating curanderismo on a different
historic plane ("prescientific") from
dynamic psychotherapy. Although Kiev
mentions the lack of scientific rigor in
modern psychotherapeutic methods, he
does not consider how curanderismo
incorporates modern, perhaps
"scientific", ideas in its theory and
practice. Yet, he describes one of the San
Antonio healers as the son of a physician,
"a relatively well-educated and literate
man who attended a Spiritualist school in
Mexico."
My own work in Puerto Rico is
focused on a description of Spiritism a
nineteenth century, European-derived,
'"secular" religion as an effective
culturally-patterned psychotherapy.
Spiritism parallels curanderisrno as a folk
therapeutic system adapted to a
particular cultural setting, but it is more
current in its tenets and ideology, as well
as more recent in its origin.
Spiritism 'had its origins in the spirit
tapping of the Fox sisters in Hydesville,
New York in 1848. The idea of spirit
: communications in s6ances spread rapidly
from New England to England,, where
many "scientific" societies began efforts
in psychic research, considering it a
"new" psychology, part of the scientific
ferment of the 19th century. Leon Rivail,
a Frenchman (and member of the
-Phrenological Society of Paris-and of the
Society of Magnetism) took up the
psychic ball in 1853 when he published,


under the pseudonym Alan Kardec, The
Spirits Book and six other books based
on spirit communications, fusing a
basically Christian line with oriental
concepts of karma and reincarnation. His
religion, called Spiritisme, took hold in
Spain and Portugal and later in Latin
America: As early as 1856, Puerto Ricans
were holding s6ances, and Argentinians
were writing to Kardec about their spirit
messages. The next year, Mexicans were
involved and by the turn of the century
even President Madero was an adherent.
Although Kardec discussed spiritual
healing and the bad effects of obsession
by evil spirits, he did not emphasize.
curing techniques. In Brazil, Puerto Rico,
Mexico, Argentina and Colombia, spiritist
beliefs have been syncretized with folk
curing systems. Generally, lower class
folk use traditional curing methods aided
by Kardecian beliefs and practices; upper
and middle class groups practice Spiritism
in an almost pure form, but emphasize
spiritual healing. The therapeutic effects
have a psychological rather than a
pharmacological characteristic. Thus it is
possible to view Spiritism in Puerto Rico,
for example, as a folk psychotherapy
appended to one branch of the European
scientific tradition. Spiritism is modern in
the sense that its roots are the same as
those of psychoanalytic theory and
psychodynamic therapy: 19th century
studies of magnetism, hypnotic states,
mental disorders, mesmerism, and so on.
Though Spiritism's curing methods
have become-even more popular in the
twentieth century, they occupy a
somewhat sub rosa place in societies
which prefer "scientific" ideas and
medicine. Spiritism is quasi-scientific, but
still "religious" in the Western sense of
this attitude, and therefore reconciles
science and a religious world view. The
wedding of the two may be the way to
treat culturally-patterned disorders which
arise from conflicts among people at odds
with societies that are introducing
"scientific" ideas. The minority group
status of Mexican-Americans is a case in
point. Kiev says that his subjects are
acculturating, but they use "folk
diseases" to "avoid or relieve situations
involving a conflict between Mexican and
American values."
In many ways, the now traditional
psychotherapies are similar to folk c during
systems. They, too, have been
synthesized from a specific set of beliefs
in the context of a particular world view
and are pragmatically-tested solutions to
culturally-patterned problems.
It is not difficult to evaluate a
therapeutic system: that which works is
good. This realization has led to the
current search for new systems, such as
behavior therapy and response-centered
therapies. The appeal of these
experimental curing systems lies not in
their ability to demonstrate results, but in
their concern with the daily product, the
patient's behavior. Thus, curanderismo's
highest value seems to be, as Kiev clearly
states, that "diagnosis and treatment
occur in the larger, more meaningful
context of major institutions and belief
systems, not isolated from them, as in the
United. States." The curandero may not
aspire to basic personality change, but
like the behavior therapist he seeks to
reinstitute socially acceptable ways of
patient behavior as quickly as possible by
whatever treatment he can borrow or
devise. .Perhaps the curandero's success
lies in his "scientific" eagerness to
observe and revise methods according to
the socio-cultural realities of his patient's
experiences. In this, all healers are kin to
their medieval predecessors, who
practiced wizardry with the greatest of
confidence.O


'Zapatistas,' by Jos6 Clemente Orozco from 'Zapata: The Ideology of a Peasant
Revolutionary,' by Robert P. Million, international Publishers.


__










CAIBBCAN riFVIEW 7


The Teachings


Of Don Juan
by Carlos Castaneda

Monday, August 7, 1961
I arrived at don Juan's house in Arizona about seven o'clock on
Friday night. Five other Indians were sitting with him on the porch of his
house. I greeted him and sat waiting for them to say something. After a
formal silence one of the men got up, walked over to me, and said,
"Buenas noches.' I stood up and answered, "Buenas noches." Then all
the other men got up and came to me and we all mumbled "buenas
noches" and shook hands either by barely touching one another's finger-
tips or by holding the hand for an instant and then dropping it quite
abruptly.
We all sat down again. They seemed to be rather shy-at a loss for
words, although they all spoke Spanish.
It must have been about half past seven when suddenly they all got
up and walked toward the back of the house. Nobody had said a word
for a long time. Don Juan signaled me to follow and we all got inside an
old pickup truck parked there. I sat in the back with don Juan and two
younger men. There were no cushions or benches and the metal floor
was painfully hard, especially when we left the highway and got onto a
dirt road. Don Juan whispered that we were going to the house of one of
his friends who had seven mescalitos for me.
I asked him, "Don't you have any of them yourself, don Juan?"
"I do, but I, couldn't offer them to you. You see, someone else has
to do this."
"Can you tell me why?"
"Perhaps you are not agreeable to 'him' and 'he' won't like you,
and then you will never be able to know 'him' with affection, as one
should; and bur friendship will be broken."
"Why wouldn't he like me? I have never done anything to him."
"You don't have to do anything to be liked or disliked. He either
takes you, or throws you away."
"But, if he doesn't take me, isn't there anything I can do to make
him like me?'"
The other two men seemed to have overheard my question and
laughed.
"No! I can't think of anything one can do," don Juan said.
He turned half away from me and I could not talk to him anymore.
We must have driven for at least an hour before we stopped in front
of a small house. It was quite dark, and after the driver had turned off
the headlights I could make out only the vague contour of the building.
A young woman, a Mexican, judging by her speech inflection, was
yelling at a dog to make him stop barking. We got out of the truck and
walked into the house. The men mumbled "Buenas noches" as they went
by her. She answered back and went on yelling at the dog.
The room was large and was stacked up with a multitude of objects.
A dim light from a very small electric bulb rendered the scene quite
gloomy. There were quite a few chairs with broken legs and sagging seats
leaning against the walls. Three of the men sat down on a couch, which
was the largest single piece of furniture in the room. It was very old and
had sagged down all the way to the floor; in the dim light it seemed to be
red and dirty. The rest of us sat in chairs. We sat in-silence for a long
time.
One of the men suddenly got up and went into another room. He
was perhaps in his fifties, dark, tall, and husky. He came back a moment
later with a coffee jar. He opened the lid and handed the jar to me;
inside there were seven odd-looking items. They varied in size and
consistency. Some of them were almost round, others were elongated.
They felt to the touch like the pulp of walnuts, or the surface of cork.
Their brownish color made them look like hard, dry nutshells. I handled
them, rubbing their surfaces for quite some time.
"This is to be chewed [esto se masca]," don Juan said in a whisper.
I had not realized that he had sat next to me until he spoke. I
looked at the other men, but no one was looking at me; they were talking
among themselves in very low voices. This was a moment of acute
indecision and fear. I felt almost unable to control myself.
"I have to go to the bathroom," I said to him. "I'll go outside and
take a walk."
He handed me the coffee jar and I put the peyote buttons in it. I
was leaving the room when the man who had given me the jar stood up,
came to me, and said he had a toilet bowl in the other room.
The toilet was almost against the door. Next to it, nearly touching
the toilet, was a large bed which occupied more than half of the room.
The woman was sleeping there. I stood motionless at the door for a
while, then I came back to the room where the other men were.


The man who owned the house spoke to me in English: "Don Juan
says you're from South America. Is there any mescal there?" I told him
that I had never even heard of it.
They seemed to be interested in South America and we talked
about the Indians for a while. Then one of the men asked me why I
wanted to eat peyote. I told him that I wanted to know what it was like.
They all laughed shyly.
Don Juan urged me softly, "Chew it, chew it [Masca, masca]."
My hands were wet and my stomach contracted. The jar with the
peyote buttons was on the floor by the chair. I bent over, took one at
random, and put it in my mouth. It had a stale taste. I bit it in two and
started to chew one of the pieces. I felt a strong, pungent bitterness; in a
moment my whole mouth was numb. The bitterness increased as I kept
on chewing, forcing an incredible flow of saliva. My gums and the inside
of my mouth felt as if I had eaten salty, dry meat or fish, which seems to
force one to chew more. After a while I chewed the other piece and my
mouth was so numb I couldn't feel the bitterness anymore. The peyote
button was a bunch of shreds, like the fibrous part of an orange or like
sugarcane, and I didn't know whether to swallow it or spit it out. At that
moment the owner of the house got up and invited everybody to go out
to the porch.
We went out and sat in the darkness. It was quite comfortable
outside, and the host brought out a bottle of tequila.
The men were seated in a row with their backs to the wall. I was at
the extreme right of the line. Don Juan, who was next to me, placed the
jar with the peyote buttons between my legs. Then he handed me the
bottle, which was passed down the line, and told me to take some of the
tequila to wash away the bitterness.
I spit out the shreds of the first button and took a sip. He told me
not to swallow it, but to just rinse out my mouth with it to stop the
saliva. It did not help much with the saliva, but it certainly helped to
wash away some of the bitterness.
Don Juan gave me a piece of dried apricot, or perhaps it was a
dried fig-I couldn't see it in the dark, nor could I taste it-and told me
to chew it thoroughly and slowly, without rushing. I had difficulty
swallowing it; it felt as if it would not go down.
After a short pause the bottle went around again. Don Juan handed
me a piece of crispy dried meat. I told him I did not feel like eating.
"This is not eating," he said firmly.
The pattern was repeated six times. I remember having chewed six
peyote buttons when the conversation became very lively; although I
could not distinguish what language was spoken, the topic of the conver-
sation, in which everybody participated, was very interesting, and'I
attempted to listen carefully so that I could take part. But when I tried to
speak I realized I couldn't; the words shifted aimlessly about in my
mind.
I sat with my back propped against the wall and listened to what


Tampico, from 'The Eagle: Autobiography of Santa Aria,' edited by Ann
Fears Crawford, Pemberton Press, Austin, Texas.

the men were saying. They were talking in Italian, and repeated over and
over one phrase about the stupidity of sharks. I thought it was a logical,
coherent topic. I had told don Juan earlier that the Colorado River in
Arizona was called by the early Spaniards "el rio de los tizones [the river
of charred wood]"; and someone misspelled or misread "tizones," and
the river was called "el rio de los tiburones [the river of the sharks]." I
was sure they were discussing that story, yet it never occurred to me to
think that none of them could speak Italian.
I had a very strong desire to throw up, but I don't recall the actual
act. I asked if somebody would get me some water. I was experiencing
an unbearable thirst.
Don Juan brought me a large saucepan. He placed it on' the ground
next to the wall. He also brought a little cup or can. He dipped it into the
pan and handed it to me, and said I could not drink but should just
freshen my mouth with it.
The water looked strangely shiny, glossy, like a thick varnish. I
Reprinted by permission of the Regents of the University of California from 'The
Teachings of Don Juan,' U. California Press, 1968.









8 CAIBBCAN F1VIEW


wanted to ask don Juan about it and laboriously I tried to voice my
thoughts in English, but then I realized he did not speak English. I
experienced a very confusing moment, and became aware of the fact that
although there was a clear thought in my mind, I could not speak. I
wanted to comment on the strange quality of the water, but what
followed next was not speech; it was the feeling of my unvoiced thoughts
coming out of my mouth in a sort of liquid form. It was an effortless
sensation of vomiting without the contractions of the diaphragm. It was
a pleasant flow of liquid words.
I drank. And the feeling that I was vomiting disappeared. By that
time all noises had vanished and I found I had difficulty focusing my
eyes. I looked for don Juan and as I turned my head I noticed that my
field of vision had diminished to a circular area in front of my eyes. This
feeling was neither frightening nor discomforting, but, quite to the
contrary, it was a novelty; I could literally sweep the ground by focusing
on one spot and then moving my head slowly in any direction. When I
had first come out to the porch I had noticed it was all dark except for
the distant glare of the city lights. Yet within the circular area of my
vision everything was clear. I forgot about my concern with don Juan
and the other men, and gave myself entirely to exploring the ground with
my pinpoint vision.
I saw the juncture of the porch floor and the wall. I turned my head
slowly to the right, following the wall, and saw don Juan sitting against
it. I shifted my head to the left in order to focus on the water. I found the
bottom of the pan; I raised my head slightly and saw a medium-size
black dog approaching. I saw him coming toward the water. The dog
began to drink. I raised my hand to push him away from my water; I
focused my pinpoint vision on the dog to carry on the movement, and
suddenly I saw him become transparent. The water was a shiny, viscous
liquid. I saw it going down the dog's throat into his body. I saw it flowing
evenly through his entire length and then shooting out through each one
of the hairs. I saw the iridescent fluid traveling along the length of each
individual hair and then projecting out of the hairs to form a long, white,
silky mane.
At that moment I had the sensation of intense convulsions, and in a
matter of instants a tunnel formed around me, very low and narrow,
hard and strangely cold. It felt to the touch like a wall of solid tinfoil. I
'found I was sitting on the tunnel floor. I tried to stand up, but hit my
head on the metal roof, and the tunnel compressed itself until it was
suffocating me. I remember having to crawl toward assort of round point
where the tunnel ended; when I finally arrived, if I did, I had forgotten
all about the dog, don Juan, and myself. I was exhausted. My clothes
were soaked in a cold, sticky liquid. I rolled back and forth trying to find
a position in which to rest, a position where my heart would not pound
so hard. In one of those shifts I saw the.dog again.
Every memory came back to me at once, and suddenly all was clear
in my mind. I turned around to look for don Juan, but I could not
distinguish anything or anyone. All I was capable of seeing was the dog
becoming iridescent; an intense light radiated from his body. I saw again
the water flowing through him, kindling him like a bonfire. I got to the
water, sank my face in the pan, and drank with him. My hands were in
front of me on the ground and, as I drank, I saw the fluid running
through my veins setting up hues of red and yellow and green. I drank
more and more. I drank until I was all afire; I was all aglow. I drank
until the fluid went out of my body through each pore, and projected out
like fibers of silk, and I too acquired a long, lustrous, iridescent mane. I
looked at the dog and his mane was like mine. A supreme happiness.
filled my whole body, and we ran together toward a sort of' yellow
warmth that came from some indefinite place. And there we played. We
played and wrestled until I knew his wishes and he knew mine. We took
turns manipulating each other in the fashion of a puppet show. I could
make him move his legs by twisting my toes, and every time he nodded
his head I felt an irresistible impulse to jump. But his most impish act
was to make me scratch my head with my foot while I sat; he did it by
flapping his ears from side to side. This action was to me utterly,
unbearable funny. Such a touch of grace and irony; such mastery, I
thought. The euphoria that possessed me was indescribable. I laughed
until it was almost impossible to breathe.
I had the clear sensation of not being able to open my eyes; I was
looking through a tank of water. It was a long and very painful state
filled with the anxiety of not being able to wake up and yet being awake.
Then slowly the world became clear and in focus. My field of vision
became again very round and ample, and with it came an ordinary
conscious act, which was to turn around and look for that marvelous
being. At this point I encountered the most difficult transition. The
passage from my normal state had taken place almost without my
realizing it: I was aware; my thoughts and feelings were a corollary of
that awareness; and the passing was smooth and clear. But this second
change, the awakening to serious, sober consciousness, was genuinely
shocking. I had forgotten I was a man! The sadness of such an irrecon-
cilable situation was so intense that I wept. o


Illus. by Alberto BeltrAn, from 'The Lean Lands,' by Agustmn Yfiez, U. Texas



The Lean Lands


by Agustfn Yafiez


translated by Ethel Brinton


We'd ride and ride, talking only about the land. I was my grand-
father's favorite grandson. Almost from the moment I was born-
if not the same day, then the next week, or at least before I was
a month old-he'd take me with him on his daily rounds, first
carrying me in his arms, then putting me on the pommel of the
saddle, and finally letting me ride behind him. If I can't say I was
born on horseback, I was certainly reared on horseback and I grew
up on horseback. The very day I was born our finest mare gave
birth to a colt, and my grandfather kept it for me. He gave it the
same care he gave me, as if we were twins, or even closer, a single
being. When the time came, my grandfather himself broke him
in. Hd had a small saddle made, a special one, for his grandson. He
lifted me up on what he called my "namesake," took the reins, and
led me about, first around the yard, then along the roads of the
plain. Finally, on my tenth birthday, he said, "Take the reins.
You're big enough to ride by yourself now." He gave me a riding
whip, a lasso, and spurs, all of them specially made for me. Soon
he didn't have to lift me up. I'd take the horse over to the stone
doorstep and jump on his back. I'd also saddle and unsaddle my
"namesake." And "Namesake" became his name. A fine chestnut,
a handsome horse, and we understood each other as though we
were actually a single being, alike in our thoughts and feelings.
So then I didn't have to ride over the land while perched on the
horse's rump behind my grandfather. When he went to saddle his
horse, his grandson had his saddled already. This pleased my grand-
father very much and he never got tired of boasting about it every-
where. We'd ride all morning, and sometimes all day long, taking
food with us, eating anywhere, or sometimes we'd just do without
until we got home, hungry enough to enjoy our evening meal.
That's how I learned the highways and byways, the names, leg-
ends, and superstitions of the land before I reached the age of
reason, as they call it. I feel, and am, just as much a part of it as
any tree or rock. They can pull me up by the roots, and the day's
coming when I'll be uprooted like a dead tree or a rock in the path,
but this'll just be to place me further inside it, deeper down in its
shelter. The only thing that worries- me is this idea of the resur-
rection of the dead and of having to go to the Valley of Jehoshaphat.
That's why I suggested that very name for the cemetery at CuilAn-
it's in a valley. I hope the trick'll work. My grandfather and Name-
sake, between them, taught me to understand the language of the
earth, its whims and fancies-for it has these, too. The horse would
prick up its ears as though saying, "Listen," and I'd stop and listen,
straining my ears to hear. At first I couldn't hear anything except
the wind in the trees, or birds singing, the sounds of the farm, the
farm animals, the running streams, the rain, the thunder. I no-
ticed that Namesake pricked up his ears before I heard the sounds
and also when we passed through places where someone had died.
Later I began to hear the blades of grass growing, the corn in the
cornfields, and the movements of ants, worms, microbes, and pests-
under the earth or in the buds, in the leaves of corn, and the
beanpods, the peapods, or in the folds of a sprouting shoot. And
I'd ask my grandfather about everything. "What does the air say
when there's no wind, and the flies and butterflies when they stay









CAIBBCAN rFVIeW 9


perfectly still, and the dogs when they howl in a different way
from their usual barking? And why does Namesake prick up his
ears when there's nothing strange in front of him?" My grand-
father would explain everything to me: the power of the land, the
souls whose bodies are buried in it, the spirits dwelling in all the
elements of nature-plants and trees, springs, streams, rivers, and
marshes, fire, each of the winds, plains hemmed in by mountains,
rocks and stones according to their shapes and colors, the earth
according to its fertility. What I enjoyed most, and I never got
tired of asking him to tell me more about it, was his idea of the
marriage between heaven and earth and their constant interaction
to shape the future, from the character of people at birth to the
scars of the years in their faces and the harvests to be reaped. But
while filling me with a love of the land he also taught me to mas-
ter it. He taught me to know its harshness and its reverses so that
I'd know how to reap its rewards. He trained my eyes to see things
at a great distance; he made me put my ear to the ground until I
could hear the steps of men or animals hours away and know
whether they were friends or enemies, whether they were bring-
ing good or bad news, whether they were cattle thieves or coyotes,
lost cattle or strangers. There was no one like my grandfather for
reading the heavens and smelling the air to learn if we'd have
plenty of rain or a drought, and for knowing when the early drought
would come, the rise and fall of the temperature, the coming of
hurricanes, eclipses, hail, and snowstorms. People from far away
came to consult him and had faith in him. My favorite pastime
was to stand beside him for hours and hours watching the night
sky, listening to him tell the names of the stars, the meaning ol
each one, its position at such and such a time, its effect upon the
earth. One of his last prophecies was the coming of the comet that
would bring about the Revolution. He died shortly afterwards and
didn't see it. They also say he told about the great earthquake that
destroyed cities on the other side of the ocean at the very moment
it was happening. The only thing he never liked to talk about
was hidden treasure, and he never answered any questions they
asked him on this subject. "The only treasure hidden in the earth,"
he told me, "is the fertility of the earth itself, and the only way
man can obtain it is by plowing it with oxen and watering it with
the sweat of his brow-by hard, back-breaking toil." Hidderi treas-
ures, money won by gambling, debts-he hated all of them. He'd
say to his children, and to me and his other grandchildren, and
to his daughters-in-law and other relatives, over and over again,
"Working with debt hanging over your head is like trying to carry
water in a basket." Once-I can't remember the reason for the
journey-we went to the other side of the Sierra de Cardos. I must
have been about six or seven years old, and it was my first visit
outside our part of the county. We had blankets and bags with us,
because we were going to spend several nights away from home.
My father, my uncles, and some friends were with my grandfather,
and on the way they mentioned the names of villages I'd never
heard of before. At the top of the mountain we stopped for a siesta.
I don't remember who began to point out the villages, praising the
comforts and advantages they enjoyed and comparing them with
the neglected state of our farms and the poorness of the land we
lived on. My grandfather got angry at this, as he did when they
asked him to look for buried treasure. "Those are the thoughts of
ungrateful sons and of cowards, leaving their own mothers and wives
to look for a new mother and go running after other people's wives.
Each man has only one mother and one lawful wife. Just as we're
bound to them, we're bound to the land. In fact, we're the land
itself, and our feelings toward it are of our own making, since they
come from our not knowing how to treat it, or from not being able


to treat it the way we'd like to and the way it deserves. We'll never
find what we're looking for in distant places,' and the very thought
of abandoning the land is wrong unless it's to bring back to the land
what it needs. I know these villages. I tell you from my own ex-
perience that they haven't got anything for us to envy, unless it's
the dangerous temptation to try new inventions, but in 'the end
they're disappointing because you get tired of them, and they also
bring slavery. Those men and villages are enslaved to each other.
They can't live by themselves, and they don't have the freedom
we have. When they don't have charcoal, or gasoline, or electricity,
they're frantic. If the stores run out of matches they don't have
flint and tinder to start a fire, and besides, they don't know how.
The women can't go out into the street without shoes and shawls.
The men have to wear dark trousers. They can't live without stores,
and police to keep an eye on people-an endless chain of slavery.
Our land is poor, we often don't get enough rain, but this very in-
*I


Ius. by Alberto Beltrin, from 'The Lean Lands,' by Agustfn Yafiez, U.Texas

security and poverty teaches us to be self-sufficient, to make do with
what we have, with what we can get from the land. We help each
other, sharing what we have, but they're not like us. On the con-
trary, they destroy each other, and it's everyone for himself." That
was the way my grandfather's sermon went, that day on the moun-
tain. I used to help him with all the chores-with the milking,
plowing, sowing, weeding, harvesting, threshing. I'd help him tie
up the stubble, put the fodder in the barns, clean out the stalls for
the cattle and the horses, feed the animals, shoe them, and shear
the sheep.,I'd even volunteer for jobs I couldn't yet manage. When
I was quite small I learned to lasso, to make figures with a rope on
foot and on horseback. And I learned to be a good rider, to race my
horse against others on the plains. My greatest dream was to break
wild horses, but my grandfather wouldn't let me while he was
alive. He owned a good deal of land and some farms on the other
side of La Tapona. That's why we were constantly going back and
forth. 'When the master attends him the horse grows sleek' was
one of his favorite sayings, and there were others constantly on his
lips: 'The early bird catches the worm' and 'The sleeping fish is
swept downstream.' I've often seen him get down from his horse
and kiss the earth. I've often heard him talking to the seed he
sowed, to the ripening ear, to the green shoots just appearing in
the cornfield. On one occasion he was told about some kind of mo-
tors or machines to make plowing easier, to break up the hard
earth. He crossed himself and started to curse. 0.
Reprinted with permission from 'The Lean Lands,' by Agustin Yafiez, translated by
Ethel Brinton. U. Texas Press, 1968.


Institute
Psioologico
de Puerto Rioo

Ave. Muffoz Rivera 573
Hato Rey, Puerto Rico 00918

Area code 809 765-5110
765-3498


The Market Research Division of the Instituto Psicol6gico de Puerto Rico includes a
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_ ___


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10 CArBBEAN reVIew


Levi-Strauss in


Latin America

by David Goddard .-


TRISTES TROPIQUES. C. L6vi Strauss
- Librairie Plon, Paris, 1955; Hutchinson,
London, 1961; Criterion Books, New
York, 1961.

It cannot be said that L6vi-Strauss
has ever been a Latin Americanist,
although his own ethnographic research
in the 1930's was undertaken in Brazil
among the Bororo, Nambikwara,
Caduveo, and Tupi-Kawahib peoples.
From this work we have a detailed
description of the social organization of
the Bororo and of the family and social
life of the Nambikwara, as well as a series
of impressionistic and beautifully
perceptive studies of the societies
mentioned, or what is left of them, in
Tristes Tropiques. And, of course,
recently he has been ranging over the
mythology of tropical America in search
of structural connections in the mythic
materials of societies widely scattered
through the hemisphere.. Perhaps, from
this, as is hinted in Tristes Tropiques, new
hypotheses will be raised about the
historical settlement of the Americas and
the characteristics of archaic civilizations
which have long since vanished, but
whose eroded remnants remain in remote
selva areas or in the high Andes or on
North American reservations.
It is these remnants which interest
Levi-Strauss, not Latin America. Latin
America as a geo-political entity, existing
then in a state of social and political
petrifaction "turning over at half-speed."
is nor the subject of this book. The very
title should cause us to wonder, for the
New World as Levi-Strauss saw it is only
the Old World exhibiting the worst of its
excesses, caught up in them and rotting as
a result; like the vegetation of Amazonia
or the lush beauty of the environs of San
Juan destroyed by concrete and polluted
by industrial waste. Just as the exotic
islands of the Pacific have become
"stationary aircraft carriers" for B-52's,
so has tropical America been transformed
and destroyed, trapped in a world not of
its external penetration. And its very
historicity has eroded it, brought about a
second fall of mankind, as if, as he
suggests on the final page, "the rainbow
of human cultures should go down
forever into the abyss which we are so
insanely creating."
Whether Levi-Strauss finds himself in
Lahore, masked from the eye of the
observer by the festoonings of telegraph
wires, or in Rio, appearing no more than
as ecologically incongruous among the
"random stumps" which surround it, or,
for that matter, in Puerto Rico (his first
encounter with the United States),
interrogated and interned by the FBI,
trying to discover "what thoughts lay
behind the farded masks of the young
ladies in the drug-stores," the story is
essentially the same: a profound,
metaphysical, disillusionment, because, in
seeking to escape one world he was only
to find its tarnished mirror-image in
another. What he encountered in America
was filth "our filth, that we have
thrown in the face of humanity." Tristes
Tropiques begins and ends as an
indictment.
And yet America fascinates him as it
disillusions him. He comes to it as
Columbus must himself have done:


The trees were so high that they
seemed to touch the sky; and if I
understand aright they never lose their
leaves; for they are as fresh and green
in November as ours are in the month
of May; ... And wherever I turned
the nightingales were singing,
accompanied by thousands.of other
birds of one sort or another.
And in such a fashion he echoes
Columbus. For Columbus the continent's
metaphysical and harmonious properties
remained as yet undespoiled, but
L6vi-Strauss can only find them at the
margins, among "the outcasts of
humanity" whom he laboriously hunts
down in a solitary quest to discover what
must have been before history overtook
those crystalline and immobile.societies.
That is how he sees himself, groaning
among the shadows of a lost world, "an
archaeologist of space," as he describes
himself, "trying in vain to repiece
together the idea of the exotic with the
help of a particle here and a fragment of
debris there," afflicted, himself as much
as they, by the cannibal instincts of the
historical process.
But the matter lies even,deeper than
this, than in this metaphysical pathos
which is the driving force of the book. It
can indeed be read as a travelogue (at the
reader's peril), even as a salacious account
aided by some charming photographs
'(utilized so ably by American
book-clubs), or as just a memoir with
philosophical overtones, ethnographic
sketches, and biting wit. Or it can be read
as an account of the dilemma, the
contradiction, the anthropologist finds
himself in, "a natural subversive" trapped
between the world he rejects and a world
he can never be accepted into, yet whose
institutions he can only and must
necessarily adopt a conservative attitude
towards; forever turning over the ashes of
dead and dying cultures in the hope of
discovering a meaning, a truth, almost
hopelessly and irrevocably obscured by
the "advances" of our civilization.
But it seems to me that the book has
more to tell us than this, than about
ourselves and what we have done; or
about the situation the anthropologist
finds himself in. It tells us something
about the enigma of Levi-Strauss himself
and this neolithicc intelligence" of his
which possesses apparently so strange an
affinity with the civilizations which are
its subject, an affinity which reaches its
clearest theoretical expression several
years later in La Pensee savage, and
which perhaps also allows him the
privileged position of aesthetic
contemplation and disinterested
meditation, thereby attempting to escape,
as one is tempted to wonder, the guilt he
feels implicated in by the transformations
effected by our world ; or, if not to
escape, at least to atone for them.
If we must have a code to read this
book by (and I think we must), it is to be
found in the chapter concerning his
introduction to anthropology and
structuralism lying dormant in him, long
before he met Roman Jakobson, before
he was able to articulate to himself this
homology between his own thought
processes and those of the savage mind.
And secondly, it is to be found at the end


of the book in his acknowledgement to
Rousseau.
For L6vi-Strauss is no ordinary
anthropologist sifting ethnographic data
endlessly and to little ultimate purpose,
as his Anglo-Saxon colleagues have been
doing for half a century. He looks for
sometruth, coinciding with the
properties of his own mind perhaps, but a
truth immanent in Man regardless, or
perhaps despite, his historicity. And a
truth, furthermore, defined as an
expansion of meaning. He acknowledges
his debt to Marx, Freud, Durkheim and
Mauss, all of whom have had deep and
diverse influences on him, for they
showed him that "true reality is never the
most obvious of realities," and that
"understanding consists in the reduction.
of one type of reality to another." But
Levi-Strauss is a geologist (admitted as his
r --- -


Fuegian Indian. rrom 'Darwin's South
America' by Robert Hopkins, John
Day Company.

first love) or an archaeologist of human
nature which is a nature defined by a
signifying consciousness, the properties of
which are hidden and unrecognized, that
is to say, unconscious. What is the
meaning of this, its truth, in the terms
L6vi-Strauss is suggesting?
There is hardly a reference to Kant in
the book, but the inspiration behind this
endeavour is undoubtedly Kantian as he
seeks to reveal the structural properties of
the mind; what he later, mildly, comes to
call "an inventory of mental constraints."
It is this archaeology of the mind,
appearing in the scientific forms of
modern anthropology, which defines
L6vi-Strauss as a philosopher seeking to
deduce, as Kant did, the categories of the
understanding. This is nowhere really
clear in Tristes Tropiques, as it is in La
Pensee sauvage, but it is there if one
chooses to reflect upon it. Perhaps it
might be considered a supreme irony that
he embarks on this critical quest among
the agonized remains of once whole
societies, instead of analyzing anew the
Western philosophical tradition to reach
those synthetic a prior truths (to which,
it may be recalled, Levy-Bruhl, his
predecessor, compared primitive
mentality so unfavorably). But then
perhaps not, if that tradition provides
"only a fragmentary lesson or two." And,
moreover, logically, and I mean this in its
most general structural sense, the
unconscious properties of the mind may
be at their most exposed and manifest
among peoples whose lives (unlike our
own) still retain a quantum of
equilibrium in their relationship with
nature. So one might quite properly say
that in their perceptual and conceptual
consciousness of nature and of themselves
in relation to it, the categorical


functioning of the human mind may be
expressed far more harmoniously and
precisely than it could possibly in the
"hot" societies of the West.
Which brings us, finally, to the
explicit, debt Levi-Strauss owes to
Rousseau. While Kant may .be the
inspiration behind the cataloguing of the
human soul, Rousseau is his real master in
Tristes Tropiques, in that Rousseau
sought to discover "the unshakable basis
of human society," accepting that no
society is perfect, and none could ever be,
but nonetheless seeking some middle road
which he thought to exist in a neolithic
age, in those crystalline and immobile
structures which Levi-Strauss calls "cold"
societies, and which lack any intrinsic
propensity for change, expansion or
transformation which might threaten
their bases. Rousseau, Levi-Strauss
observes, saw that middle ground
somewhere "between the indolence of
the primitive state and the questing
activity to which we are prompted by our -
amour propre," presupposing an idea of
development and progress towards the
elimination of evil, injustice and
inhumanity, and the retention of those
qualities of reciprocity which defined for
Rousseau the virtuous mind. Certainly
Rousseau believed in no utopian solution,
but divined something in the savage state,
without any recourse to ethnographic
material of a reliable kind, which
approximated to his ideal.
Yet Levi-Strauss appears to find no
trace of a middle ground left if we are to
take seriously his closing observations.
Rousseau may be his master, but
Rousseau could not have foreseen the
"progress" the civilization he knew has,
subsequently made. L-vi-Strauss. because
he is a part of it and also a product of it,
can. Hisallegiance to Rousseau and the
Enlightenment is betrayed by. his
disillusionment anid despair that mankind
can ever repair the damage that it has
inflicted on itself, resulting from the
expansion of the West which has turned
so destructively on others as well as
against ourselves. Even if,. in both
Buddhism and Marxism (and we should
not forget that Levi-Srrauss was accused
for this book by Marxists of reducing the
workers of Billancourt to despair! ), he
finds a note of optimism and hope,
Levi-Strauss in his journeyings and
reflections really sees in the human race,
and especially in our own civilization, as
he sees it refracted in the decaying
institutions and customs of Latin
American republics, a principle of
entropy. The activities of men, he tells us,
are no more than "inertia-producing
machines" as we mindlessly "dismantle
millions upon millions of structures and
reduce their elements to a state in which
they can no longer be reintegrated." The
metaphysical fatalism of this is so evident
as to cause one to wonder just what
Levi-Strauss considers his mission to be.
But this, which may give us further cause
to wonder, is his answer:
The world began without the human
race, and it will end without it. The
institutions, manners, and customs
which I shall have spent my life in
cataloguing and trying to understand are
an ephemeral efflorescence of a creative
process in relation to which they are
meaningless, unless it be that they allow
humanity to play its destined role.

The book, once again, begins and ends
with an indictment. So it is perhaps not
so difficult to understand why he moves
from the moralism of the Enlightenment
with its courtly optimism to the cold
transcendentalism of Kant, seeking
merely to arrange aesthetically,
structurally, the actual functioning of
human reason.D











CAIBBEAN r VIEW 11


Colombia:

Cowboy

Country

--by Barry Levine

COLOMBIA: SOCIAL STRUCTURE
AND THE PROCESS OF
DEVELOPMENT. T. Lynn Smith. U. of
Florida Press, 1967. 389 pp. $12.50.

Colombia-watcher T. Lynn Smith has
spent a quarter of a century observing
that society. The first of a three volume
study of the poeple and institutions of
Colombia, this book concerns "the
sociological aspects of the development
process as it is going on." The second
volume will tell of demographic aspects,
the third of family, education, religion,
and government.
Actually, it is a cowboy story.
Colombia is presented as unevenly settled
badlands and her actors are divided into
good guys and bad guys, farmsteaders and
ranchers. "Development" is the script by
which the land should be settled and the
farmsteaders win.
Smith divides the possibilities of
.agricultural life into two types. The first
"system," based on large estates, is
characterized by high social stratification,
little mobility, low intelligence, restricted
personalities, "order-obey" -relations,
routine, the degradation of manual labor,
low standard of living, and little incentive
to work and save.
The second "system" is based on
family-sized farms with a low degree of
stratification, much mobility, high
intelligence, broad personalities,
equalitarian relations, search for
improvement and progress, respect for
manual labor, high standard of living, and
lots of incentive to work and save.
Development is the jump from one
to the other. The problem, however, is: is
"development" what is really "going on"
in Colombia?'
Colombia is not Coffee Country as is
generally assumed. Half her territory is
unsettled. Only half the settled area is
devoted to agricultural and pastoral
activities. The 1960 Agricultural Census
breaks this quarter of Colombian
territory into the following categories:

arable land, cultivated 7 per cent
arable land, fallow 6 per cent
permanent plantings
(coffee, cacao, etc.) 6 per cent
pastures 53 per cent
forests 23 per cent
other 5 per cent

Thus, Colombia is better understood as
unsettled Marlboro Country, or at best as
Cowboy Country.
Two per cent of all producers (those
with more than 200 hectares each) have
55 per cent of the land while 68 per cent
of them (those with less than five
hectares each) have only four per cent of
it. Of the 1.2 million agricultural units,
78 per cent are subsistence tracts and
minifundia, two per cent are latifundia,
20 per cent are middle-sized tracts which
might be considered family-sized,
family-run farms. Yet many of these
"farmsteads" have many features of the
hacienda system: peons often do the
work, owners frequently live away from
the farm, mis-management is many times
left to mayordomos, etc. Many of the
owners of these medium sized plots are
thus peti-hacendados rather than being


,.~-.. - -- - --- --
In the conquest and settlement of Colombia and Spanish America in general,the
horse served only as a war charger. From 'Colombia: Social Structure and the
Process of Development,' by T. Lynn Smith, U. Florida.


''"part of a sturdy yeoman class."
Consequently, it is not even clear how
many of the good guys, the people Smith
believes to be "Colombia's principle
hope," there are.
Twice as much land is devoted to
pasture as to crops, yet there are six times
as many crop units as pastoral ones. In
other words, Colombia's crops are grown
on small farms while her meagerly
productive ranching and pastoral
activities take place on huge landed
estates. 27,000 pastoral latifundia (two
per cent of the total number of units), for
example, take up more than one-half of
the country's "land in farms."
This condition of large pastoral
estates and small crop units has its roots
in the Spanish conquest. Being attacked
and becoming the attacker made the
Spanish pastoral in style. The conquerors
brought with them this preference for
ranching. As they took over the country
they pushed the agricultural Indians up
into the mountains. This had the effect of
relegating to agriculture- the more
difficult to cultivate land, while cattle,
horses, and swine grazed on the fertile,
flat, easily accessible valley floors.
". ..much of the land now being
cultivated in Colombia is best suited for
pastures and woodlands, and ...
substantial portions of the land now in
pasture are precisely those which are
most suited for agriculture."
Accompanying this was the depopulation
of the valleys and the crowding of the
mountainous slopes.
Colombia has had a long history of
campesinos illegally entering upon and
working land belonging to others,
whether it be on the periphery of the
great estates or on publicly owned land.
Aggravated by an inept system of land
registry, its cause is the maldistribution of
land. This problem became epidemic
from the 1930's until 1947 when la
violencia eclipsed it as the country's
major social ill. The dimensions of the
problem promise to explode at any time.
Smith links together the problems of
disastrous inequality and agricultural


malproduction and professes: "when the
day comes in which the operators of
family-sized farms and the members of
their families constitute the bulk of those
who live from agriculture in Colombia, a
fundamental change in the dominant
rural system will have taken place." In
spite of the fact that in Smith's terms the
industrial countries are de-developing
-since their family-farms are being
eclipsed- and if we grant him his
definition of development, we may still
ask if in fact that "day" is coming. Smith
seems optimistic about its arrival though
he is aware of the obstacles. We need not
be so optimistic.
In Europe the threat of
impoverishment of the aristocracy
brought about the enclosure movements
and the conversion of the land to
market-oriented production. In the
settling and growth of the American West
an automatic agrarian reform took place
with the establishment of family-sized
farms.
But in Colombia nothing similar is
happening. There is no threat to de-class
her landed aristocracy, causing them to
convert to market production; there are
no taxes on non-productive land; when
the aristocracy needs money they simply
invest in foreign stocks.
Moreover, as far as giving the
peasants decent-sized plots, agrarian
reform has been more rhetoric than
practice. And if the peasants decide to
take it for themselves it is.very doubtful
that any mass spontaneous take-over will
be tolerated by Colombia's
helicopter-equipped counter-insurgency
forces. Thus, the "show-downs"
demanded by "development" remain
dormant.
If development is going on in
Colombia it is not in the country.
Hopefully, the subsequent volumes
promised by the author will show us
where the action's at, for this cowboy
story makes it look as though there are
few good guys around, that they might
not be the best guys, and that in any case,
the bad guys are going to win. 0


An Affair

with

Puerto Rico

by Kal Wagenheim

PUERTO RICO. By Marvin
Schwartz. Prologue by Ernesto Ruiz de la
Mata. Epilogue by Ricardo E. Alegria. 68
pp. 36 photos. Grosset & Dunlap. $6.95.
Marvin Schwartz has created a very
personal photo essay on Puerto Rico.
With 2.7 millions souls crammed into
3500 square miles, Puerto Rico today
crawls with people. Yet, there are few
people in this book.
As seen from the cities and main
roads, Puerto Rico is a noisy, cluttered,
unsightly island. There are traffic jams,
honking horns, jets roaring overhead,
clangorous piledrivers sinking foundations
for more concrete boxes called office-
buildings, trucks and buses spewing black
fumes, factories fouling the environment
with their excrement, tree-less sidewalks
blazing with heat, making a walk through
most urban areas asinhospitable as a hike
across the Sahara. Yet most of his book
exudes silence, permanence, tranquil
majesty.
Is his a false picture of Puerto Rico?
Not if one heeds Alexander Pope, who in
his Essay on Criticism advises:
A perfect judge will read each work of
wit
With the same spirit that its author writ;
... In every work regard the writer's
end,
Since none can compass more than they
intend.

And what was the author's intent?
Antonio J. Molina (El Mundo, April 25)
calls Schwartz's book "an embrace with
the land of Puerto Rico." In his excellent
prologue, Professor Ernesto Ruiz de la
Mata writes "there is a passion in many of
these photographs."
I will go one step farther and call it
outright lovemaking. There is definitely
an affair between Schwartz and Puerto-
Rico. I saw him take one of the photos in
this book and felt very much the intruder.
as he focused and snapped, shooting the
same subject a dozen times or more,
whispering to the subject -a tree in a
lovely meadow- as though to a live
model, coaxing, wooing, cajoling, as
though it might, in some petulant fit,
wriggle its limbs or shed its rich greenery.
Ruiz de la Mata helps explain why
some of the photos in this book do not
strike all readers with equal impact. He
speaks of "the remarkable photograph of
the ramparts of Fort San Cristobal,"
which to some viewers may appear less
than remarkable.
"I remember Marvin Schwartz almost
being washed away by the sea, standing
against a backdrop of rolling and wildly
crashing waves, shooting, and shooting,
and shooting, desperate not to lose that
camera angle, nor the particular light
shining at that instant, impervious to
anything but what he was seeing through
the lens, amidst the furious sea. The
camera and some of his other equipment
were ruined beyond recovery, but he had
accomplished his goal."
This is the kind of lovemaking which
is often -but not always- evident in the
photo itself. The San Cristobal picture
does not, cannot, fully reflect the passion
and daring involved in the making of it.
This would require a second camera,
focusing upon lover and beloved. Or a











12 CAIBBEAN IFC.W


Ruiz de la Mata to chronicle the moment.
Thus, unless you are Marvin
Schwartz, you may not agree with the
"rightness" of every photo. But enough
of the photos are so striking, so
memorable, that you have to like them.
As for the few which respond to his own
inner eye, we can at least vicariously
enjoy this obvious love affair by trying to
assume "the same spirit that its author
writ."
Marvin Schwartz is a product of the
Big City. His lungs are caked with urban
soot. His eyes and nose have been
offended by the clutter and stench of
garbage on city streets; his ears battered
by the sound of hurtling subway cars,
buffeted by icy Sixth Avenue winds. He
gulps sandwiches in corner luncheonettes.
He is nervous, his eyes are very mobile.
He has an ulcer. His monologues are filled
with wild, incongrous imagery, suggesting
a computer with felicitously crossed
circuits. He is very effusive. He gets
depressed. He has a great memory for the
minutest details of Sherlock Holmes tales;
he loves to recite Dylan Thomas, as well
as the brand names and model numbers
of photography equipment. Like a city
boy, he treats strangers with reticence,
sometimes almost with hostility. He has
little patience with sc hmucks. He is a
New Yorker.
Late one night, he turned up in San
Juan and explained, with a sheepish grin"'I
was home in New York this afternoon. I
went downstairs to check the mailbox. It
was full of bills. It was cold outside. So I
went upstairs, packed a bag and took the
next plane."
Why did he do a photo essay like
Puerto Rico? Because it is the antithesis
of the New York which he thrives on, and
* despises. Puerto Rico is his balm, his
tranquilizer. He likes to roam the
countryside, away from the city's
cacophony. The Puerto Rico he has
photographed is the island of his refuge.
Landscapes without telephone poles or
electric cables. Mountaintops at dawn,
the mist rising. Sights which refresh the
spirit, unscramble the mind, make you
believe that if there ever was a God, this
is what he left us. "Peace" is a more apt
title than "Puerto Rico." Even his people
reflect it. Fishermen, hauling in their nets
with a rhythm as steady as the tide;
young ballerinas, not dancing, but in
repose; a distant man leading his cow
through a meadow; a solitary baker in
Old San Juan, after midnight, tending to
his oven.
This is a beautiful book, -ir execution
almost completely, in intention
overwhelmingly so. 0


a Picnic


THE CUBAN AND PORTO RICAN
CAMPAIGNS Richard Harding Davis.
360 pp. Illus. Chas. Scribner's Sons.
$1.50.

In case you are given to wondering
just where the United States began going
wrong in Latin America, this little volume
by war correspondent Davis offers a few
now rather mouldy, but illustrative,
milestones.
Davis covered the Spanish American
War in the Caribbean. A natty dresser and
author of adventure stories for boys,
Davis regarded the war in part as yet
another adventure story. Not the best of
adventure stories as things go. But
certainly one which displayed the power
of Our Flag, Our Boys and Our Bullets as
they carried freedom to the oppressed
lesser peoples of the earth.
Davis sailed with theU.S. fleet from
Key West toward Havana aboard Admiral
Sampson's flagship New York, but soon
returned to Florida, to sail once more
frdm Tampa with the expeditionary
forces that landed first near Santiago in
southern Cuba, and later on the south
coast of Puerto Rico.
The crossing from Tampa to
Baiquiri, west of Santiago, was at best
rather sloppy. "But as it was, nothing
happened," Davis writes. "We rolled
along at our own pace, with the lights the
navy had told us to extinguish blazing
defiantly to the stars, with bands banging
out rag-time music, and with the
foremost vessels separated sometimes for
half a day from the laggards in the rear.
"It was a most happy-go-lucky
expedition," our correspondent
continues, "run with real American
optimism and readiness to take big
chances and with the spirit of a people
who recklessly trust that it will come out
all right in the end. .."
Not that this was the only time Davis
heard music at sea during the war. Earlier,
while the New York's gunners took
potshots at the Cuban coast near
Matanzas, "from below came the strains
of the string band playing for the officers'
mess, and the music of Scheur's 'Dream
of Spring' mingled with the belching of
the four-inch gun."
"This is not a touch of fiction,"
Davis assures us, "but the reporting of


by Joel Magruder


cold coincidence, for war as it is
conducted at this end of the century is
civilized."
The art seems to have been lost since
then.
Among the adventures Davis
recounts is the meeting of a group ofU.S.
officers with General Garcia, the Cuban
revolutionary leader, prior to the troop
landing at Baiquiri: "Drawn up under the





xir-- .


i i

Puerto Rican supermarket window,
by Emilio Rodrfguez
cocoa-nut palins were a double row of
Cuban officers, and as the blue-jackets
drove the long-boats from the Vixen
toward the shore, the Cubans dashed into
the water up to their waists and came
toward us, cheering and shouting...
Garcia is a handsome man, with a white
moustache and goatee...In his forehead,
between the snow-white eyebrows, is a
deep bullet wound, which shows where
he tried to kill himself when, ten years
ago, he was a prisoner in the hands of the
Spaniards."
Despite what Davis describes as the
abysmal incompetence of the American
army leader, General Shafter, the troops
moved rapidly from Baiquiri toward
Santiago where part of the Spanish fleet
was trapped, until the Americans reached
the San Juan hills overlooking the city.
There it was discovered that they had
been ordered forward into an impossible
position along a narrow trail, and now
they were jammed together within easy
range of Spanish. guns on the hills.
Withdrawal was impossible because of
congestion to the rear along the route of
march. And if they remained there, the
Spanish would slowly shoot them to
pieces. "There was only one thing they
could do go forward and take the San
Juan hills by assault," Davis writes.
Then Rough Riders leader Col.
Teddy Roosevelt, and other lesser
officers, came forward, rallied members
of other units in the area, and charged the
hills.
"Roosevelt, mounted high on-
horseback, and charging the rifle-pits at a
gallop and quite alone, made you feel
that iyou would like to cheer," Davis
continues. "He wore on his sombrero 'a
blue polka-dot handkerchief... which, as
he advanced, floated out straight behind
his head, like a guidon."
Eager for more action, Davis left
Cuba before the capitulation of the island
and sailed with General Miles and the
Puerto Rico-bound forces. "In
comparison to the Santiago nightmare,"
he says, "the Porto Rican expedition was
a fete des fleurs."


So it Wasn't


Yet Davis felt that critics of the war
were too disrespectful of the Puerto Rico
operation. He writes querulously: "When
the men who accompanied our army to
Porto Rico returned to their own people
again, they found that at home the Porto
Rican campaign was regarded as
something in the way of a successful
military picnic... This point of view was
hardly fair, either to the army in Porto
Rico, or to the people at home. It
cheated the latter of their just right to
feel proud."
We surmise that our correspondent
also disliked people joking about the war
he covered.
Davis contends that the ease with
which the U.S. forces took Puerto Rico
was the product of the friendliness of the
island's people and the skill of General
Miles. He also complains that part of the
glory of the Puerto Rico operation was
lost becuase most of the correspondents
were still in Cuba.
:As a parting retort to critics, Davis
snaps, . .the American reader, for his
own satisfaction, should not belittle a
clean-cut scientific campaign by callingit
a picnic."
All right, all right. So it wasn't a
picnic.
The troops first landed at GuAnica,
on Puerto Rico's south coast, after a
short bombardment and skirmish.
Although not altogether approving what
he saw in the town, Davis nonetheless
waxed a bit romantic: "To those of us
who had just come from Santiago the
sight of women sitting on porches and
rocking in bent-wood chairs, the lighted
swinging lamps with cut-glass pendants,
and the pictures and mirrors on the
walls. seemed a part of some
long-forgotten experience. We know now
that the women were dark of hue and
stout, that the pictures were chromos of
the barber-shop school, and that the
swinging lamps were tawdry and smoked
horribly 'but- at that moment... the
women of Juanica (sic) were as beautiful
as the moonlight, their household goods
of the noblest and best."
Although there were a few skirmishes
with scattered Spanish forces, the U.S.
expedition rapidly occupied most of the
south coast of the island, and prepared to
advance across the mountains toward San
Juan on the north shore. It was later
discovered that the Spanish had planned
their major defense in the mountains. But
armistice was declared before the two
forces met in significant battle.
At the war's end the United States
found itself with a new possession in the
Caribbean. In a splendid flight of
lyricism, Davis celebrates this fact with
what must surely stand as one of'the
most pure expressions of the myth of
Manifest Destiny that bedazzled the
United Statesrfor several decades:
"Peace came with Porto Rico
occupied by our troops-and with the
Porto Ricans blessing our flags, which
must never leave the island. It is a
beautiful island, smiling with plenty and
content. It will bring us nothing but what
is for good, and it came to us willingly
with open arms. But had it'been
otherwise, it would have come to us. The
course of empire today takes its way to
all points of the compass -not only to
the West. If it move always as smoothly,
as honorably, and as victoriously as it did
in Porto Rico, our army and our people
need ask for no higher measure of
success." 0

Readers are advised that the book
being reviewed was published over half a
century ago and, if available at all, may
have suffered a price increase.


Photo from 'Puerto Rico,' by Marvin Schwartz, Grosset & Dunlap.









CAlBBCAN IeKVIEW 13


THE HERO AND THE CROWD IN
A COLONIAL POLITY- A.W. Singham.
Yale U. Press.

Assuming the perspective of a Third
World social scientist, professor Singham
hopes this book on the Caribbean island
of Grenada will contribute to the "body
of general propositions" regarding the
disappearing colonial polities. The study
traces the conflict between the executive
and legislative structures within the
semi-ministerial system of government
developed in that island during 1951-62.
The conflict is personified by the clash
between the Colonial Administrator, J.
M. Lloyd, and the "colonial politician",
Eric M. Gairy, who became Chief Minister
in 1961. The clash led to suspension of
the semi-ministerial system of
government and to the constitutional
setback which returned Grenada to the
status of Crown Colony under the full
authority of the Colonial Administrator.
Grenada is a small territory of only
76,888 acres but its population density is
second only to Barbados in the Windward
Islands. Scarce natural resources and a
"satellistic" type of agricultural economy
have caused heavy migration to Trinidad
and Great Britain. Migration has
reinforced a psychological conflict of
political "identity" and a colonial
tendency to look to the outside world for
solutions to problems.
Until the 18th century, sugar
production based on slavery dominated
the economy. By 1881 sugar was replaced
by cocoa, nutmeg and banana. The
structure of the economy, has followed
two patterns: plantation estates
(averaging 230'acres), and small farming.
Neither helps modernization. The first
employs large quantities of cheap labor
with a, low level of capitalization and
technology; the second is handicapped by
lack' of capital and fragmented
landholdings. "
Dependency on other economies is
reflected in the import of capital and
consumer goods, in the lack of control
over the inflow and outflow of funds, and
in the "grant-in-aid" status of Grenada.
By 1958 her per capital income was only
$259, migration was heavy, and 95% of
her population .did not earn enough to
pay taxes. According to Singham the
dependent nature of the economy has
allowed the plantation to determine the
social structure and values of Grenada.
Following Charles Wagley, the author
defines the plantation model in terms of:
(a) monocrop cultivation, (b) rigid class
lines, (c) multiracial society, (d) weak
community structure, (e) matri-focal
family, and (f) a peasantry practicing
both subsistence and commercial
agriculture. Consequently 80% of the
population is classified as
"agro-proletarians", and the race and
class lines are seen as "White" upper class,
"Brown" middle class, and "Black"
lower-class.
Plantation family life is thought to
produce "authoritarian" personalities in
both the middle and the lower classes.
Heavy reliance on the mother for
discipline and affection, and the father's
lack of "managerial" and "status"
defining functions in the household
supposedly account for authoritarian
personalities. The "Old Representative
System" of 17th century England
predominated during the first stage of
Grenadine history analyzed by Singham.
That system divided constitutional
powers among a Governor controlling the
executive branch, a Legislative Council
composed of "nominated" and "elected"
members, and an independent Judiciary.
This separation of powers caused the
continuous conflict between the


The Hero and


the Crowd


executive and legislative branches,
especially regarding taxation.
Constitutional change during the
20th century has dealt chiefly with
making the Legislative Council more
representative. This involved the adoption
of universal adult suffrage, eliminating
property qualifications for voters and
elective members via the 1951
Constitution. This was significant since
unqualified adult suffrage, according to
the author, led to the election of-"mass
leaders" like Gairy, thus widening the gap
between executive and legislative
branches.
The movement towards Federation
during 1951-59 exerted pressure on small
territories like Grenada to assume a
semi-ministerial type of government with
collective responsibility in the Executive
Council. This brought major
constitutional innovations: the Office of
Chief Minister was to be chosen by the
Legislative Council and four ministers
were to be appointed by the Chief
Administrator on the advice of the Chief
Minister. While the Chief Administrator'
retained substantial powers (external
affairs, control of the Public Service,
maintenance of judicial efficiency, law,
and order), he was to consult the Chief
Minister about appointments to the
Public Service Commission and other
offices. The coexistence of two Chief
Administrators, one emanating from the
external colonial authority and
representing the constitutionall order",
an d the other from the recently expanded
"political order" based on electoral
support, led to major conflicts dealing
with the control of the Civil Service and
of fiscal administration.
Professor Singham interprets this
crisis in terms of the Weberian scheme of
political legitimation. For him the Chief
Administrator, J. M. Lloyd, represents a
claim for the legitimacy of the
bureaucratic ethos and the legal system of
authority, while the Chief Minister, Eric
M. Gairy, represents a claim for the
personal, charismatic authority relying on
popular support of the masses.
The succesive interplay between the
basic elements involved in the four major
frames of reference of the book, namely,
David Easton's system approach, the
plantation model, the authoritarian
personality, and Weber's scheme of
legitimation, leads Singham to interpret
the colonial polity as a subordinate
system characterized internally by the
unstable relationship between the
colonial politician as "hero" and his
followers as "crowd" The hero's role is to
propagandize mass support by
manipulating the basic anxiety and
aggression felt against the elites. This
manipulation takes advantage of the
inherently critical nature of the colonial
society which has produced both
"compulsion" and "withdrawal", and is
ultimately maintained by the
authoritarian values transmitted in the
socialization process.
Within this context, a colonial style
of politics is supposed to emerge, devoid
of ideologies and rational goals, but
whose party structures articulate mass
hostility. Rather than a "mass party" of
committed followers, the hero produces a
personalistic, authoritarian and loosely
articulated organization, which can only
achieve a partial integration of electoral
support. Through the electoral method,


by Milton Pab6n


the hero-crowd relationship tends to
routinize the oriflicts of the colonial
society by keeping political issues within
the sphere of the so-called mid-elites,
avoiding the direct challenge of the
imperial government and the
international elites. At his best, the hero
can protest against the colonial system, or
join the power structure as a junior
member. Fully developed, the hero-crowd
relationship creates its own opposition,
that is, its counter-crowd and
counter-hero. The logical conclusion of
this style of politics is a vicious circle
working against the so-called
"preparedness" for self-government.
The perspective of the Third World
promised by the author remains
unfulfilled due to his almost complete


reliance on the conventional theories and
models derived from respectable social
science. This incongruence between facts
and theories undermines the coherence of
the proposed body of "general
propositions" about colonial polities: (a)'
facts are sometimes richer in meaning and
more relevant than the theories under
which they are classified; (b) theories are
presented in an organic neatness but not
always warranted by the data; (c) facts
are adscribed to pre-established theories
and forced to fit them. A few examples
are necessary to demonstrate this.
The book's central theme, about the
historical conflict between executive and
legislative structures, is well documented.
Ample evidence shows that this
contradiction is due to the undemocratic
character of the constitution and to the
expected difficulties inherent in a
separation of powers. Its last phase,
personified by the clash between Chief
Administrator Lloyd and Chief Minister
Gairy, is attributed by the author: (a) to
the "lack of clarity" in the constitution
as to the spheres of control assigned to
the different ministers; (b) to the
unnecessary confusion of "technical and
administrative" tasks; and (c) to the
"existence of two executive offices"
making "cooperation virtually mandatory
in a number of matters." The record also
indicates that Gairy deliberately
confronted Lloyd's authority to
strengthen the party machinery and
increase political patronage. Gairy was
found guilty of:
contravention of laws and regulations
governing control of expenditure; failure
to seek or accept advice of civil servants;
deliberate destruction of the morale of
the civil service; interference and threat
against civil servants to condone


improprieties or irregularities of
expenditure.
Public opinion surveys taken by the
author favored Lloyd, not the political
hero. Gairy was unable to retaliate with a
mass strike and lost the 1962 election.
Thus, Singham's recourse to the Weberian
legitimation scheme is artificial Even if
we accept the general proposition that
the contradiction between the executive
and the legislative branches will increase
with extension of suffrage, there is still
no basis to believe such a contradiction
embodies opposing claims of legitimacy.
There is no reason either to confuse
personal charisma with Gairy's
administrative mismanagement, lack of
prudence, and political miscalculation.
The hero-crowd relationship rests on
very shaky grounds. The "plantation.
model" does not seem.to fit Grenada's
socio-economic characteristics, and would
certainly be out of place in other colonial
societies. Grenada outgrew monocrop
cultivation and slavery a long time ago;
her population described as 52% Negro,
42% mixed, and 4% East Indian, is
-obviously less multiracial than other
colonial societies; absentee ownership
dropped after the demise of sugar
production, and family, rather than
corporate, ownership predominates;
figures on landholding reflect a pattern of
fragmentation rather than of
consolidation; no evidence in the book
demonstrates "weak community" and
"matrifocal family" structures. As for the
socialization process and its resultant
"authoritarian personality" the author
admits that there is a "remarkable
dearth" of literature on personality
structure and that the few studies done so
far are impressionistic.
The power structure is subdivided
into "economic elites", "mid-elites,"
"bureaucratic and professional classes,"
''Governor and Imperial
Representatives,' but the scope and
frequency of control of these
components is not defined. This type of
analysis adds to the confusion of the,
central thesis so long as Singham keeps
shifting ground as to the nature of the
colonial polity. Is the essence of that
polity the conflict between charisma and
legal authority, or the contradiction
between the elites and the masses, or
simply the rural and urban cleavage
electorally represented by the hero and
counter-hero?
The colonial society is defined as
prone to stages of crisis due both to the
unsatisfactory resolution ofdemands, and
to the syndrome of withdrawal aggression
it stimulates in the personality of its
members. Yet the "crowd" which
supposedly embodies those traits
according to public opinion surveys,
forms a well-informed electorate with a
high sense of political potency.
The vicious circle involved in forming
the hero-counter hero, and the
crowd-couriter crowd could be explained
without that deterministic theory. The
author describes in detail that Gairy's
political failure in 1962 was due to very
concrete faults: his reckless labor
demands in 1954; his failure to organize
the urban workers; his lack of an
articulated party organization, of a
coherent governmental policy, and of
secondary leaders to depend upon; the
boom in banana production and the
emigration of rural voters, factors which
undermined his electoral base, and lastly
his proposal to raise taxes. It is difficult
to accept that all these self-evident
mistakes should forcefully be fitted into a
sort ot colonial leadership syndrome
which not only perpetuates colonialism
but condemns the people to submit to its
own inadequate political leadership. 0













14 CAIBBEAN PFVIEW


Recent



Books

Note: This "Recent Books" list is
just that, a list. Its purpose is not to
review books, but to keep the reader as
up-to-date as possible on the existence of
new books dealing with the Caribbean
and Latin America. In this issue, we
have been more successful in approaching
completeness for books published in the
United States, because of smoother
communications with U.S. publishers.
But contact has already been established
with publishers in Latin .IAmerica and the
Caribbean, and future lists will be more
representative of books published in
Spanish, Portuguese, French and other
languages.


Fiction

BESTIARY OF IMAGINARY BEINGS.
Jorge Luis Borges. Tr. by Norman Thomas di
Giovanni with the author. Dutton. Prose
sketches of various creatures of man's fantasy,
by the great Argentine poet.

CRONOPIOS AND FAMAS. Julio
Cortizar. Tr. by Paul Blackburn. Pantheon,
$4.95. Incidents and observations, moments
and images, by the noted Argentine author of
'Hopscocch," "The Winners" and "End of the
Game and Other Stories."

CUENTOS. Salvador Salazar Arrue. 199
pp. Casa de las Americas. Habana, Cuba. 1968.

CUENTOS ESCRITOS EN EL EXILIO Y
APUNTES SOBRE EL ARTE DE ESCRIBIR
CUENTOS. Juan Bosch. Lib. Hispaniola, Santo
Domingo, R.D. 1968.

CUMBOTO. Ramon Diaz Sanchez. Tr. by
John Upton. llus. by Kermit Oliver. U. of
Texas, $6.50.

SEL REINO DE ESTE MUNDO. Alejo
Carpentier. 122 pp. Arca, Montevideo,
Uruguay. 1968.

HODAK. Tom Pendleton. Spies, revolution
and romance in a South American country.
Mcgraw-Hill, 5.95.
LITORAL. Nestor Rodriguez Escudero.
Tr. by Louise Florea Sweetman. Short stories
about the sea. Spanish edition was judged the
best book of Puerto. Rico in 1962. Vantage
Press, $3.75.

LOS JEFES. Mario Vargas Llosa. 156 pp.
Dist. by Mejia Baca, Lima, Peru. 1968.

PEDRO PARAMO. Juan Rulfo. Tr. by
Lysander Kemp. Grove Black Cat Book, $1.25.

RECOLLECTIONS OF THINGS TO
COME. Elena Garro. Tr. by Ruth L.C. Simms.
Illus. by Alberto Beltrin. U. Texas, $6.50.
Translation of the novel Los recuerdos del
porvenir.

THE INMOST FLOWER. Miguel Serrano.
Schocken, $8.95. A translation of the novel by
the Chilean writer-diplomat which "weaves
together myths and history of East and West,
Chinese and Incas, Himalayas and Andes, Easter
Island and Tihuanacu."

THE LEAN LANDS. Agustin Yifiez. Tr.
by Ethel Brinton. Illus. by Alberto Beltrin. 328
pp. U, Texas Press. $6.50. A translation of Las
Tierras Flacas (1962) by the noted Mexican
novelist. The theme is the impact of modern
technology and ideas on a few isolated,
tradition-bound hamlets in the aftermath of the
Mexican revolution of 1910.
THE PRECIPICE. Sergio Galindo. Tr. by
John and Carolyn Brushwood. Drawings by
Luis Eades. U. Texas, $6. A translation of the
novel El bordo.
THE TRIUMPH. John Kenneth Galbraith.
Signet, $.95. Paperback edition of
ex-Ambassador Galbraith's first novel about a
revolution in a Latin American republic.
Poetry

ANTOLOGIA DE LA POESIA REBELDE
HISPANOAMERICANA. 139 pp. Ediciones


Banda Oriental. Montevideo, Uruguay. 1967.

DECIMAS. Rafael Vega Lancara. 115 pp.
Editorial. Depto. Tnstruccin P6blica. Hato
Rey, Puerto Rico. 1968. Puerto Rican folk
music.

HALLUCINATED CITY. Mario de
Andrade. Tr. by Jack E. Tomlins. 99 pp.
Vanderbilt U. Press. $5. A bi-lingual
(Porruguese.English) edition of the first volume
to issue from the Brazilian Modern Movement.
first published in 1922. when it sparked a
literar. uproar in Brazil.

HUMAN POEMS/POEMAS HUMANS.
C6sar Vallejo. Tr. by Clayton Eshleman. 326
pp. Grove Press, $8.50. 52 -works by the late
Peruvian poet.

LA BARCAROLA. Pablo Neruda. 166 pp.
Zamorano, Santiago de Chile, 1967.

LABYRINTHS. Jorge Luis Borges. New
Directions, $5.50. A new clothbound edition.

LOS POEMAS DE LA OFENSA. Jaime
Jaramillo Escobar. 140 .pp. Ediciones Tercer
Mundo, Bogota, Colombia. By the winner of
the 1967 Nadaista poetry prize; who prefers to
be known as X-504.

MACHADO: A DIALOGUE WITH TIME.
Norma Louise Hutman. U. New Mexico, $6.95.
Analyzes the major images and poems of
Antonio Machado, provides new English
translations of the major poems.

PABLO NERUDA: A NEW DECADE,
POEMS 1958-1967. Tr. by Ben Belitt and
Alastair Reid; ed. with intro. by Ben Belitt.
Grove Press, $8.50. A companion volume to
Belitt's Grove edition of "Selected Poems,
1925-1958."

PALABRAS DE NUEVA ESPERANZA.
Vicente Geigel Polanco. 114 pp. San Juan, P.R.
1969. The fourth poetry book by a former
legislative leader in Puerto Rico.

SELEC. POESIA PRECOLOMBINA.
Miguel Angel Asturias. 210 pp. Fabril Editora.
Buenos Aires, Argentina. 1968.

SNAPS. Victor Cruz. Random House,
$4.95 and Vintage paperback, $1.95. Poems by
a 19-year-old from New York's Spanish Harlem.

RUBEN DARIO, SUS MEJORES
POEMAS. 236 pp. Banda Oriental, Montevideo,
Uruguay. 1968.

VOICES. Antonio Porchia. Tr. by W.S.
Merwin. Follett, $3.95 cloth $2.95 paper. 250
poems by the Argentine poet, in his 80's,
translated by a noted young American poet. -

Theatre
MARIANA O EL ALBA. Rene Marques.
Edici6n del Centenario del Grito de Lares. 243


pp. Editorial Anrillana. 1968. This historical
play was inaugurated during the 8th Festival of
Puerto Rican Theatre on May 20, 1965. It deals
with the period in 1868 when Puerto Ricans in
the mountain town of Lares carried out a brief
pro-independence revolt against Spain.
Anthropology
AMONG THE INDIANS OF GUIANA.
Everard F. Im Thurn. -145 pp. Dover. $3
(paper). 10 plates. 43 figures. Fold-out map.
First published in 1883, this book studies the
people, flora and fauna of remote British
Guiana.

ANCIENT MEXICAN GAMES AND
SPORTS. Romin Pina Chan. Edition Leipzig,
701 Leipzig. P.O. Box 340, German Democratic
Republc. $2.90. The author is Director of the
pre-Spanish Department of the Ethnological
National Institute in Mexico.

DARWIN'S SOUTH AMERICA. Robert S.
Hopkins. 224 pp. John Day, $5.95. A portrait
of 22-year-old Charles Darwin and his voyage
aboard the Beagle in the 1830's. As the ship's
naturalist, Darwin recorded observations of
people, flora and fauna.

MEN MET -ALONG THE TRAIL:
ADVENTURES IN ARCHAEOLOGY. Neil M.
Judd. 162 pp. Illus U. Oklahoma Press, $5.
1968. 50 years of reminscence, along a trail
that began in 1907 in Utah and led south to
Guatemala.

MORNE-PAYSAN:PEASANT VILLAGE
IN MARTINIQUE. Michael M. Horowitz. Holt,
Rinehart and Winston. 114 pp. 1967.

THE INVISIBLES. Francis Huxley.
McGraw-Hill. $6.95. Haiti's Voodoo gods,
spirits, practitioners and victims are revealed by
the young anthropologist who wrote "Affable
Savages."

THE TEACHINGS OF DON JUAN: A
YAQUI -WAY OF KNOWLEDGE. Carlos
Castaneda. 196' pp. U. California Press, S5.95.
A young anthropologist records his experiences
during five years as a pupil of a Yaqui Indian
shaman. He describes how peyote and other
plants sacred to Mexican Indians are used as
gateways to the mysteries of "dread,"
"clarity," and "power."

TROPICAL FRONTIER. Paul Record. Knopf,
$6.95. An account, by a ten-year-resident, of
life in Xucupan, a remote pocket of southeast
Mexico, where violence is commonplace.
Art

A GUIDE TO MEXICAN ART: FROM
THE BEGINNINGS TO THE PRESENT.
Justino Fernandez. Tr. by Joshua C. Taylor. U.
Chicago, $8.75. A leading art historian's survey
of more than 20 centuries.

A HISTORY OF LATIN AMERICAN
ART AND ARCHITECTURE: FROM


Brazilian forest, by Maurice Rugendas, from 'Darwin's South America,' by Robert
Hopkins, John Day Company


PRE-COLUMBIAN TIME TO THE PRESENT.
Leopoldo Castedo. $8.95. Includes 191 b&w
and 43 color illustrations.

ANCIENT MEXICO IN COLOR. Ignacio
Berna. Photos by Irmgard Groth. 60 color
plates. 159 pp. McGraw, $28.95.

CONTEMPORARY MEXICAN
ARCHITECTURE: WORKS BY TEODORO
GONZALEZ DE LEON AND ABRAHAM
ZABLUDOVSKY. Tudor, $25. Hundreds of
plans and photos, from private homes to the
complete development of the Jalisco seacoast.

NEW DIRECTIONS IN LATIN
AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE. Francisco
Bullrich. Braziller, cloth $5.95, paper $2.95.

PRE-COLUMBIAN ART OF MEXICO
AND CENTRAL AMERICA. Hasso Von
Winning. 595 illustrations, 175 in full color.
388 pp. Abrams, $35. .

SIQUEIROS: THE FOURTH STAGE OF
MURALISM IN' MEXICO. David Alfaro
Siqueros. Tudor, $25 (limited edition), 25
color reproductions of preparatory paintings
for Siqueiros' new mural now being executed at
Parque de la Lama.

THE ARCHITECTURE OF MEXICO:
YESTERDAY AND TODAY. Hans Beachman.
Hastings House, $12.95.
Biography

CHE: THE MAKING OF A LEGEND.
Martin Ebon. New American Library Original,
$.75.

CAMILO TORR ES. Germin Guzmin. Tr.
by John D. Ring. Sheed & Ward, $6.95. The
first complete biography of the" Colombian
priesr-revolunonary.

FIDEL CASTRO. Herbert L. Matjhews. A
political biography. Simon & Schuster, $6.95.

LUIS BUNUEL. Raymond Durgnat. 152
pp. Illus. U. California, $1.95. Part of the
"Movie Paperbacks" series. A detailed review of
the great Spanish film director's work, much of
Sit done in Mexico.

MY FRIEND CHE. Ricardo Rojo. Tr. by
Julian Casart. Grove Black Car book, $1.25.

SOLDIER IN PARADISE. Louise Collis.
230 pp. Illus. Harcourt, Brace & World, $4.75.
The life of Captain John Stedman (1744-1797).
artist and soldier, who in 1'72 volunteered
to join the relief force that went out from
Holland to quell the slave revolt in Surinam.

THE AMERICAS LOOK AT EACH
OTHER. Jos6 A. Balseiro. U. Miami, $7.95.
Essays about some of Hispanic America's
leading statesmen, writers and others, .by a
noted man o letters.

THE GREAT REBEL: CHE GUEVARA
IN, BOLIVIA. Luis J. Gonzilez and Gustavo A.
Sinchez Salazar Tr. by Helen R. Lane. Grove
Press, $8.50. Two Bolivian journalists describe
Guevara's rebel campaign from his arrival in
1966 until the survivors of his group fled to
Chile in February, 1968.

THREE ARGENTINE THINKERS.
Solomon Lipp. Philosophical Library, $4.95.
The development of Jose Ingenieros, Alejandro
Korn and Francisco Romero.
VENCEREMOS! THE SPEECHES AND
WRITINGS OF CHE GUEVARA. Edited .and
with intro. by John Gerassi. Simon & Schuster
Clarion paperback, $2,95. A collection of 35
major statements from 1956 through 1967.
Includes the euology delivered by Fidel Castro.

ZAPATA: THE IDEOLOGY OF A
PEASANT REVOLUTIONARY. Robert P.
Million. International Publishers. $5.95 cloth,
$2.25, paper.

Economics

BRAZIL: AN EXPANDING ECONOMY.
George Wythe, Royce -A. Wight, Harold M.
Midkiff. 412 pp. Greenwood Press, $14.95.

CAPITAL FORMATION AND
ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT IN MEXICO.
Joseph S. LaCascia. 200 pp. Praeger, $15.
Studies changing patterns of capital formation
since the Revolution of 1910, with emphasis on
formation since 1958. Has 85 statistical tables.

ECONOMIC SURVEY OF LATIN
AMERICA 1967. United Nations, N.Y., $5.75.

EDUCATION, HUMAN RESOURCES












CAIBBEAN FEIEWV 15


AND DEVELOPMENT IN LATIN AMERICA.
249 pp. United Nations. N.Y., $3.

GUIDE FOR DEVELOPMENT:
INSTITUTION BUILDING AND REFORM.
Hiram S. Phillips. 282 pp. Praeger Special
Studies in International Economics and
Development. "Written primarily for foreign
advisors, experts, technicians, and teachers who
assist the developing countries by identifying
and analyzing problems, planting ideas, using
their ingenuity to get action, and helping to get
things done. Case studies include "Tax
Modernization in Chile.".
LAND REFORM AND SOCIAL
REVOLUTION IN BOLIVIA. Dwight B. Heath,
Charles J. Erasmus, Hans C. Buechler. 478 pp.
Praeger, $18.50. Assays the impact of the 1952
Revolution and 1953 Agrarian Reform Law.

THE ECONOMIC TRANSFORMATION
OF CUBA. Edward Boorstein. 303 pp. Monthly
Review Press. Paper $3.45. A firsthand account.
SYMPOSIUM ON NUCLEAR ENERGY
AND LATIN AMERICAN DEVELOPMENT.
166 pp. Published by Puerto Rico Nuclear
Center, Rio Piedras, P. R. after its 10th
anniversary. Available in Spanish or English. $3.

THE ECONOMY OF BRAZIL. Ed. by
Howard S. Ellis. U. California, $8.

THE LABOR SECTOR AND SOCIALIST
DISTRIBUTION IN CUBA. Carmelo
Mesa-Lago. 272 pp., tables, charts bibliog.
Praeger, $15. A Cuban professor, now in exile
in the U.S.,. concludes that "Socialist
distribution has failed to improve social
conditions or to raise production and revive the
Cuban economy."

Flora & Fauna

EARLY FOUNDATIONS OF MEXICAN
HERPETOLOGY. Hobart M. Smith and
Rozell B. Smith. 100 pp. U. Illinois, $6.50.
This annotated bibliographical analysis provides
the first thorough synopsis of the works of
Alfredo Duges (1826.1910), the "father of
Mexican herpetologv."

ENVIRONMENT AND RESOURCES:
FROM CONSERVATION TO
ECOMANAGEMENT Jafo M., da. Law School
U. Puerro Rico, $3. Outlines conservation
problems in Puerto Rico and offers a policy for
ecomanagement and action proposals.

JOURNEY TO REDBIRDS.Jan Lindblad.
Tr. from Swedish by Gweynne Vevers. 176 pp.,
48 photos, 23 in color. Hill & Wang, $6.90. A
Swedish wildlife photographer in Trinidad's
tropical rain-forests. Vivid photos and
illuminating stories which "reinforce the case
for taking a camera to nature instead of a gun."

PLANTS, ANIMALS AND MAN IN THE
OUTER LEEWARD ISLANDS, WEST INDIES:
AN ECOLOGICAL STUDY OF ANTIGUA,
BARBUDA AND ANGUILLA. D.R. Harris.
184 pp. U. California, 1965.

THE GREAT NATURALISTS EXPLORE
SOUTH AMERICA. Paul Russell; 340 pp. Illus.
Books for Libraries Press, $14.75. A reprint.

Geography Travel

ATLAS OF NEW MEXICO. Warren A.
Beck and Ynez D. Haase. U. Oklahoma Press.
Cloth $4.95, paper $2.95. Maps illustrating the
state's geography and history.

EXPLORING JAMAICA: A GUIDE TO
TRAVEL. Paul F. White and Philip Wright.
Norton, $5.95.

FIELDING'S GUIDE TO THE
CARIBBEAN. Jeanne & Harry E. Harman. 630
pp. Fielding, $7.50.

VISUAL GEOGRAPHY SERIES.
Softbound books, each priced at $1, offering a
simplified country outline in words and
pictures. Now available are: Colombia, Martha
Murray Sumwalt; The (English-speaking)
Caribbean, Lancelo 0. Evans; Jamaica, Anne
Egan; 'Brazil, EW. Egan; Mexico, Barbara J.
Hall; Argentina, E. W. Egan; Venezuela, Lincoln
A. Boehm. Each book is 64 pp.

History

AN INTRODUCTION TO ARGENTINA.
Robert J. Alexander. Praeger, $6.50.

A CENTURY OF BRAZILIAN HISTORY
SINCE 1865. Richard Graham. Knopf, $3.95.

A CULTURAL HISTORY OF SPANISH
AMERICA, FROM CONQUEST TO


INDEPENDENCE. Mariano Pic6n-Salas. U.
California. Paper, $1.95.

BARBAROUS MEXICO. John Kenneth
Turner. U. Texas $7.50. A new edition of an.
expos of the Diaz regime.'Intro. by Sinclair
Snow.
BRAZIL: THE LAND AND PEOPLE.
Role E. Poppino. 370 pp. Oxford U. Press,
$7.50. An economic and social history reaching
deep into Brazil's past to set its 'present
problems into their proper context.

BRITISH HISTORIANS AND THE WEST
INDIES. Eric Williams. 234' pp. Chas. Scribners.
1966.

CIVILIAN-MILITARY RELATIONS IN
BRAZIL, 1889-1898. June E. Hahner. 256 pp.
U. South Carolina, $7.95. A history 'of the
political involvement of the Brazilian officer
corps with civdlans, resultmg in the atypical
government of the early republic.
COLUMBUS, CORTES AND OTHER
ESSAYS. Ram6n Iglesia. U. California, $7.95.

HAITI AND THE DOMINICAN
REPUBLIC, Rayfoid W. Logan. 220 pp.
Oxford U. Press, $6. The first comparative
study of the two countries which share the.
mountainous island of Hispaniola. The %uthor
has written many books about the history of
the Negro in America.


HISTORY WILL ABSOLVE ME. Fidel
Castro. Grossman. Cloth $3; paper, $1.50. A
translation of Castro's historic 5-hour defense
statement when he was tried for leading an
attack against the Moncada Barracks on July
26, 1953.

JAMAICA: ITS, PAST AND PRESENT
STATE. James M. Phillippo. New intro by
Philip Wright. Hardcover reprint by Barnes &
Noble, $24.

LABOR NATIONALISM, AND POLITICS
IN ARGENTINA. Samuel L. Baily. 241 pp.
Rutgers U. Press, $8. Covers 1890-1957 in
examining the development of Argentina's
labor movement and how labor plays such a
large role in the nation's affairs. Emphasizes
Juan D. Per6n's regime.

LA REVOLUTION DE 1930 Y EL
DOMINIO DEL PETROLEO. Jose Novau. 31
pp. Editorial Ruiz, Rosario, Argentina.

LATIN AMERICA AND THE WORLD.
Leopoldo Zea. Tr. by Frances K. Hendricks and
Beatrice Berler. Ed. by Maria del Carmen
Millan. U. Oklahoma, $4.95.

MEXICO AND ITS HERITAGE. Ernest
Henry Gruening. 728 pp. Illus., maps. Random
House, $34.50.

MEXICO: THE STRUGGLE FOR
MODERNITY. Charles C. Cumberland. 394 pp.
Oxford U. Press, $7,50. Mexico's journey from
Aztec times to the present with emphasis on
dominant social, economic and cultural trends
- is reviewed in this basic one-volume history.

MY LIFE AMONG THE SAVAGES OF
NEW SPAIN. Andres Perez de Ribas. Tr. in
condensed form by Tomis Antonio Robertson
of a history written in 1644 under the title
"Triumphs of Our Saintly Faith Among Peoples
of the Most Barbarous and Savage of the New
Orb." Ward Ritchie Press, Los Angeles, $15.

PROYECCIONES HISTORICAL DE
LARES. Juan Antonio Corretjer. 8 pp. Liga
Socialista Puertorriquefia, Santurce, P.R. 1968.
A brief history of the 1868 Lares revolution by
the noted Puerto Rican poet.


SAN JUAN BAUTISTA: GATEWAY TO
SPANISH TEXAS. Robert S. Weddle. 469 pp.
Illus. & map. U. Texas Press, $8.50. An 18th
century historical study of a border mission
settlement.

THE ANCIENT CIVILIZATIONS OF
PERU. J. Alden Mason. With bibliography,
drawings and 64 pp. of plates. Penguin Books,
$2.25.

THE ARMY AND POLITICS IN
ARGENTINA, 1928-1945. Robert A. Potash.
Stanford U., $8.95. Explores the army's role in
a crucial period during which both the army
and the political process underwent significant
change.

THE BRAZILIAN REVOLUTION OF
1930 AND THE AFTERMATH. Jordan M.
Young. 156 pp. Rutgers U. Press, $6. The 1930
revolution toppled a 41-year-old republic in
favor of Getflio Vargas' long" dictatorship,
which profoundly changed the nation's political
style and power base. Analyzes the Brazilian
military's important role in political affairs
since 1930.

THE CASTE WAR OF YUCATAN.
Nelson Reed. 308 pp. Stanford U. Press. Paper,
$2.95. As recently as 1848, the descendants of
the ancient Maya, after centuries of
subjugation, fought their way across the
Yucatan peninsula and came within a hair's


breadth of driving their white masters into the
sea. The rebels held control of eastern Yucatan
for the rest of the century.

THE CHRONICLES OF MICHOACAN.
Tr. and ed. by Eugene R. Craine and Reginald
C. Reindorp. U. Oklahoma, $7.95.

THE COLONIAL BACKGROUND OF
MODERN BRAZIL. Caio Prado, Jr. U.
California. Paper, $3.45.

THE DAY THE WORLD ENDED. Gordon
Thomas and Max Morgan Witts. 306 pp. Stein
and Day, $6.95. Describes the day in 1902
when Mt. Pelee erupted in Martinique and
killed 29,933 people. A gripping history.
THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC: NATION
IN TRANSITION. Howard J. Wiarda. 249 pp.
Praeger, $7. A general book which arrives at a
"pessimistic conclusion concerning the
prospects for democratic development and
modernization (in) the foreseeable future."

THE GOLDEN AGE OF BRAZIL,
1695-1750. GROWING PAINS OF A
COLONIAL SOCIETY. C.R. Boxer. U.
California. Paper, $2.45.

THE LANDING AT VERACRUZ. Jack
Sweetman. 221 pp. Illus. U.S. Naval Institute.
"The first complete chronicle of a stange
encounter in April, 1914, when the U.S. Navy
captured and occupied the city of Veracruz,
Mexico." By a son of one member of the
landing party.

THE LITTLE WARS OF THE UNITED
STATES: A COMPACT HISTORY FROM
1798 TO 1920. William H. Baumer and R.
Einest Dupuy. Hawthorn Books, $6.95.

THE MAYA CHONTAL INDIANS OF
ACALAN-TIXCHEL. France V. Scholes and
Ralph L. Roys. 565 pp. 4 maps. U. of
Oklahoma Press. 1968 reprint of the first
edition (1948) by the Carnegie Inst. of
Washington. A history from pre-Conquest to
1604, including a description of Cortes' arrival
from the native point of view.

THE MIGHTY, MIGHTY AMAZON.
David St. Clair. Funk & Wagnalls, $7.50. A
history of the South American region.


American region. Funk & Wagnalls, $7.50.

THE OLMEC WORLD. Ignacio Bernal. U.
California, $12.50.
THE SPANISH TRADITION IN
AMERICA. Edited by Charles Gibson. 257 pp.
U. South Carolina Press, $7.95. 1968. An
anthology of documentary selections from
colonial Spanish American history, from the
late 15th to early 19th centuries.

TRADITION AND REVOLT IN LATIN
AMERICA, AND OTHER ESSAYS. R.A.
Humpreys. Columbia U., $7.50.

TRINIDAD IN TRANSITION, THE
YEARS AFTER SLAVERY. Donald Wood.
318 pp. Oxford U. Press. 1968.

Literature

AN INTRODUCTION TO LITERATURE
IN BRAZIL. Afranio Coutinho, tr. by Gregory
L. Rabassa. U. Colombia, $10.

CONVERSATIONS WITH JORGE LUIS
BORGES. Richard Burgin. Holt, 83.95. Tape
recorded conversations between a Brandeis
student in his 20's and the elder Argentine
poet, storywriter and novelist, who spent a year
as Norton Professor at Harvard in 1967.
Includes Borges on women, on blindness, on
the human condition, politics,cities, andon his
own writings.

EAST MEETS WEST, SOUTH OF THE
BORDER. D. Lincoln Canfield. 137 pp.
Southern Illinois U. Press. $6.50 Essays on
Spanish American life and attitudes by a
linguist who feels that the essence of a nation is
not found in its institutions, but in the behavior
patterns of the people.

FOLK STORIES AND LEGENDS OF
TRINIDAD. Written and illustrated by M.P.
Alladin. 27 pp. C.S.O. Printing Unit,
Port-of-Spain, Trinidad. 1968.

HISTORY OF MEXICAN LITERATURE.
Carlos Gonzalez Pefia. Tr. by Gusta B. Nance
and Florence.J. Dunstan. Southern Methodist
U. Press 540 pp. Cloth $8.50, paper $3.45. A
third enlarged edition of the original (1943),
based on the 1966 Spanish edition. A lengthy
appendJx carries the reader to the 1960's.

JAMAICAN SONG AND STORY.
Collected and edited by Walter Jekyll. 288 pp.
Dover, $2.50 (paper). Jamaica's national
folk-hero is Annancy, an animal trickster noted
for his unmitigated greed, treachery and
cruelty. Reprinted here are some of the most
loved Annancy tales, drawn largely from
African sources, as well as digging sings, ring
tunes, and dancing tunes. 51 stones and 145
songs.

OUR CHILDREN OF THE SUN: LOS
HIJOS DEL SOL. Abraham Valdelomar. Tr. by
Merritt Moore Thompson. 94 pp. Southern
Illinois U. Press, $5.95. A suite of eight Inca
legends from Peru first published in Spanish in
1921.

LATIN AMERICAN LITERATURE:
CLASSIFICATION SCHEDULE,
ALPHABETICAL LISTING BY AUTHOR OF
TITLE, CHRONOLOGICAL LISTING.
Widener Library. Shelflist, 21. Distributed for
Harvard U. Library, $20.
PRE-COLUMBIAN LITERATURES OF
MEXICO. Miguel Le6n-Portilla. Tr. by Grace
Lobanov and the author. 191 pp. U. Oklahoma
Press, $5.95. 1968. Myths, sacred hymns, lyric
poetry, rituals, drama and various forms of
prose, many translated into English for the first
time.

RUBEN DARIO Y EL MODERNISMO
EN ESPARA: 1888-1920. Carlos Lozano. 158
pp. Las Americas Publishing Co. A Dario
bibliography, with comments, containing 947
items, including essays, articles, conferences,
reviews and studies, as well as Dario's own
works and an author index.

THE INCA GARCILASO DE LA VEGA.
Donald G. Castanien. Twayne Publishers,
$4.95. A critical study.

THE SYNTAX OF SPOKEN
BRAZILLIAN PORTUGUESE. Earl W.
Thomas. 363 pp. Vanderbilt U. Press, $10.

TRI -QUARTERL Y .
THIRTEEN/FOURTEEN. FALL/ WINTER
1968/69. Ed. by Charles Newman and Jose
Donoso. 505 pp. Northwestern U., $3. A
treasure of contemporary Latin American
literature, including selections from Paz,
Sabato, Vargas Llosa, Arreola, Asturias,












16 CAIfBBCAN F IEW


BRAZILIAN

LANGUAGE,

LITERATURE,

AND LIFE

THE SYNTAX OF SPOKEN
BRAZILIAN PORTUGUESE
By Earl W. Thomas.
For students and teachers of
the language, a unique analysis
of the contemporary native idi-
om as spoken in the Rio de Ja-
neiro area among the well-edu-
cated. The author differenti-
ates educated speech from lit-
erary and Luso-Portuguese us-
age and from less cultured Bra-
zilian speech; he offers explan-
ations and examples of usages
found in no other work on the
language. Arranged by parts of
speech. Two indexes. $10.00
HALLUCINATED CITY
By lljino .. ndrade
Translated by Jack E. Tom-
lins. A bilingual edition of the
first book(poems and the po-
et's preface)td come out of
the Brazilian Modernist Move-
ment of the 1920's a mile-
stone in Brazilian intellectual
history and literature. $5.00.
FOLLOWERS OF THE
NEW FAITH Culture Change
and the Rise of Protestanrinm
in Bra:l and Chile.
By Emilio Willemi A dis-
cussion of the interaction of
a growing Protestantism and
the social forces of moderniza-
tion in two South American
cultures. $7.50.
NEW PERSPECTIVES
OF BRAZIL.
Edited b Eric ,'. Baklau-
!1/ Ten _choljrl, essa.Si b re-
cognized e\perti on economic,
political. social demographic,
pichologicl,. and ImnguioiLc
usanihormsllons in Brazdiln st-
clety since World War II "l.5O.

Vanderbilt University Press
Nashville Tennessee 37203


Now A available.

TWENTY POEMS OF
PABLO NERUDA

chosen and translated biy
James Wright and Robert
Bly

with a biographical introduction
and an interview with Pablo
Neruda by Robert Bly.

Originals of poems included on
facing pages.

'These are the best translations of
Neruda weavee' Richard Howard,
'Poetry.'.

Letterpress. 112 pages, cloth-
bound only $2. Order from
Sixties Press, Odin House,
Madison, Minn., 56256.


Torre-Nilsson, Vallejo, Borges, Neruda, Parra
and others. This is a double issue of
Nortwestern's thrice yearly literary journal,
which costs $5 a year.

VIDA Y OBRAS DE FRANCISCO
BILBAO. Alberto G. Varona. 192 pp. U. Miami
$8.50. A study (in Spanish) of one of Spanish
America's best known essayists.

Politics

A HISTORY OF ARGENTINE
POLITICAL THOUGHT. Jose Luis Romero.
Intro. and tr. by Thomas F. McGann. 274 pp.
Stanford U. Press. Cloth (1963) $7.50, paper
(1968) $2.95.

ANIVERSARIOS DEL TRIUNFO DE LA
REVOLUTION CUBANA. (Speeches by) Fidel
Castro. 277 pp. Editora Politica, Habana, Cuba.
-1967.

BLACK INTELLECTUALS COME TO
POWER: THE RISE OF CREOLE
NATIONALISM IN TRINIDAD AND
TOBAGO. Ivar Oxaal. 195 pp. Schenkman
Publishing Co., Cambridge, Mass., $2.95.

CASTRO, THE KREMLIN, AND
COMMUNISM IN LATIN AMERICA. D. Bruce
Jackson. 163 pp. Johns Hopkins Press. $2.45
(paper). Concentrates on the years 1964-67 and
"the Soviet-Cuban contest for domination of
revolutionary movements in-Latin America -
particularly the communist movement in
Venezuela."

"CHE" GUEVARA ON REVOLUTION!
A DOCUMENTARY OVERVIEW. Ed. by Jay
Mallin. 256 pp. U. Miami, 7.95.

CONTEMPORARY POLITICS AND
ECONOMICS IN THE CARIBBEAN. Sir
Harold Mltchell 520 pp. Illus.& maps. Ohio
U. Press. $10. The author a businessman as nel
as political scientist, covers each area of the
Caribbean in this Uell-documenred book. His
major interest "has been to consider and
interpret the Caribbean in the light of the
constant changes of its different components
and to view rhe area as a whole." A valuable
summary of a complex region.

CUBA: CASTROISM AND COMMUNISM
1959-1966. Andres Suirez. MIT Press. Paper.


SFIDEL CASTRO'S POLITICAL
PROGRAMS FROM REFORMISM TO
"MARXISM LENINISM." Loree Wilkerson. U.
Florida Press. 100 pp. A study which concludes
that Castro "must fall if not before the'
increasing light of civilization, by the hand of
violence; by violence from within, if not from
without."

GUATEMALA: OCCUPIED COUNTRY.
Eduardo Galeano. Monthly Review Press, $5.
$5.95. An Uruguayan journalist who has been
with the Guatemalan guerrillas describes the
country since the CIA intervention of 1954
removed Colonel Arbenz. Includes interviews
with guerrilla leaders C6sar Montes and Yon
Sosa.

LATIN AMERICAN INTERNATIONAL
POLITICS. Ed. by Carlos Alberto Astiz. U.
Notre Dame, $8.95. Sixteen articles examine
the ambitions, capabilities and national
interests of Mexico, Brazil and Argentina.

LA GUERRA FRIA: USA Y LA URSS.
Julio Sau Aguayo. 148 pp. Zamorano, Santiago
de Chile, $2.19. 1968.

LOS PARTIDOS POLITICOS CHIENOS.
German Urzua Valenzuela. 221 pp. Zamorano,
Santiago de Chile, $5.46. 1968.

MAKERS OF DEMOCRACY IN LATIN
AMERICA. Harold E. Davis. 124 pp. Cooper
Square Publishers, $4.50. Reprint, with new
intro, of the 1945 edition.
POLITICS AND BEEF IN ARGENTINA:
PATTERNS OF CONFLICT AND CHANGE.
Peter H. Smith. Columbia U. Press, $10.

POLITICS IN BRAZIL: 1930-1964. AN
EXPERIMENT IN DEMOCRACY. Thomas A.
Skidmore. Oxford U., $2.50.

POLITICS IN THE ALTIPLANO: THE
DYNAMICS OF CHANGE IN RURAL PERU.
Edward Dew. U. of Texas, $6.

ROADS TO POWER IN LATIN
AMERICA. Luis Mercier Vega. Tr. by Robert
Rowland. Praeger, $6.
SOCIALISM. IN CUBA. Leo Huberman
and Paul M. Sweezy. Monthly Review Press,
$5.95. Utilizes material gathered on a trip by


the authors made to Cuba in Spring, 1968.
Analyzes key problems faced by Cuba.

STUDENT POLITICS IN CHILE. Frank
Bonilla and Myron Glazer. Basic Books, $8.50.

THE DOMINICAN REVOLT: A CASE
STUDY IN AMERICAN POLICY. Theodore
Draper. 208 pp. Commentary (165 E. 56th St.
NY 10022). Cloth $5.50, paper $2.50.

THE POLITICS OF THE BARRIOS OF
VENEZUELA. Talton F. Ray. U. California
Press, $7. Describes the development of a
vigorous new style of politics among
shantytown dwellers.

UNIVERSITY STUDENTS AND
POLITICS IN CUBA, 1929-1967. Jaime
Suchlick. 160 pp. U. Miami, $5.95. How
"Communism ... affected the democratic
convictions of Cuban students."

VENEZUELA, POLITICAL Y PETROLEO.
R6mulo Betancourt. Libreria Polit6cnica,
Caracas, Venezuela.
i 1 -- -- -


IFrom "Puerto Rico,' by Marvin Schwartz.
Grosset & Dunlap.

WHO'S WHO IN MEXICAN
GOVERNMENT. Ed by Marvin Alisky. 64 pp.
Center for Latin American Studies, Arizona
State U. Paper 1S, hardcover $2.

Reference

CARIBBEANA 1900-65. Lambros
Comitas. 907 pp. U. Washington Press. $15. A
topical bibliography on the non-HLspanic
Caribbean which should prove cmunently useful
to scholars from various disciplines. Contains
over 7,000 complete references to authored
books, monographs, reports articles and
miscellaneous publications. Doctoral
dissertations and master's theses also included.

LATIN AMERICAN NEWSPAPERS IN
UNITED STATES LIBRARIES: A UNION
LIST. Compiled in the Senal Division, Library
of Congress, by Stephen M. Charno. U. of
Texas, $20.

THE PRESS IN LATIN AMERICA. R.R.
Bowker. A guide covering 600 newspapers in:37
countries. Published in Germany, in both
German and English. Available for $21,
together with companion volumes on Africa
and Asia.

Sociology

ALIENS IN THE U.S. VIRGIN ISLANDS:
TEMPORARY WORKERS IN A PERMANENT
ECONOMY. 64 pp. College of the Virgin
Islands, St. Thomas. 1968.

ANTIOQUEIO COLONIZATION IN
WESTERN COLOMBIA. James J. Parsons. U.
California Press, $6.50. A revised edition on the
self-styled "Yankess of South America,"
shrewd, aggressive individualists whose
extraordinary colonizing genius has made them
the dominant and most clearly-defined
population element in Colombia.

CUBANS IN EXILE: DISAFFECTION
AND THE REVOLUTION. Richard R. Fagen,
Richard A. Brody, and Thomas J. O'Leary. 161
pp. Stanford U. Press. $5.95. Based on detailed
questionnaires administered to Cuban exiles in
Miami, this study "contradicts the common
view that disaffection from the Castro regime is
essentially an ideological response; exile is
shown to be mainly an individual reaction to
personal experiences."

CUESTIONES DE SOCIOLOGIA DEL
DESARROLLO EN AMERICA LATINA.
Fernando Enrique Cardoso. 183 pp. Editorial


Universitaria, Santiago, Chile, $1.75. 1968.

DEMOCRACY AND AUTHORITY IN
VENEZUELA. THE DYNAMICS OF
POLITICS AND CULTURE. Philips B. Taylor,
Jr. Johns Hopkins Press. 1968.

ENGLISH RUSTICS IN BLACK SKIN.
Sidney M. Greenfield. 208 pp. College &
University Press. Paper, $1.95; cloth, $5. 1966.
This "study of modern family forms in a
pre-industrialized society' examines Barbados,
inhabited primarily by descendants of African
slaves, but raised under British cultural
institutions.

FAMILIAR Y CULTURAL EN COLOMBIA.
Virginia Guti6rrez de Pineda. 420 pp. Ediciones
Tercer Mundo, Bogot4, Colombia.
HEALTH AND DISEASE IN FOUR
PERUVIAN VILLAGES. Alfred A. Buck, Tom
T. Sasaki and Robert I. Anderson.. 142 pp.
Charts graphs. Johns Hopkins Press, $5.

NEW PATTERNS IN OLD MEXICO.
Norman S. Hayner. 316 pp. College &
University Press.-Paper, $2.45; cloth, $6. 1966.
Concentrates on the Spanish-Indian town of
Oaxaca in Mexico South, and on Mexico City in
tracing social change between 1941 and 1961.

PARASITISM AND SUBVERSION: THE
CASE OF LATIN AMERICA. Stanislav
Andreski. 315 pp. Schocken Books. Paper,
$2.45. A revised paperback edition of the 1966
cloth edition. The author describes how
"parasitic groups .. landowners, civil servants,
the military, the clergy are strangling the very
real potential of the Latin American countries"
and "revolutionary successors to power often
fall into the same old pattern."

PORTUGAL AND BRAZIL IN
TRANSITION. Edited b, Raymond S. Saycrs.
U. Minnesota, $11. A picture of contemporary
Luso-Brazilian culture and ., forecast of future
developments

PR E-COLUMBIAN AMERICAN
RELIGIONS. Walter Krickeberg. Hermann
Trimborn, Werner Muller and Otto Zerries.
Illus & maps. Holt, Rinehart and Winsron.
$8.95.

SPRING GROVE: THE EDUCATION OF
IMMIGRANT CHILDREN Trevor Burgin and
Patricia Edson. 132 pp. Oxford U. Press for the
Institute of Race Relations, London. 1967.

THE EAST INDIAN INDENTURE IN
TRINIDAD. Judith Ann Weller. 172 pp. Inst.
of Caribbean Studies, UPR, Rir, Piedras, Puerto
Rico.

THE COLOMBIAN ENTREPRENEUR IN
BOGOTA. Aaron Lipman. U. Miami, $8.50. A
study on Colombian industrial sociology. (Tr.
from the Spanish edition of Tercer Mundo,
Bogota)


THE MEXICAN INQUISITION OF THE
SIXTEENTH CENTURY. Richard E.
Greenleaf. U. New Mexico, $7.50. Uses
Inquisition documents as a social and
intellectual history of Spain's occupation of
Mexico.

THE MODERNIZATION OF PUERTO
RICO: A POLITICAL STUDY OF CHANGING
VALUES AND INSTITUTIONS. Henry Wells.
Harvard U., $7.95.

THE NEGRO IN BRAZULIAN SOCIETY.
Florestan Fernandes. Tr. by Jackeline D. Skiles,
Ariane Brunel & Arthur Rothwell: edited by
Phillis B. Eveleth. Columbia U., $1250.

THE SOCIOLOGY OF POLITICAL
INDEPENDENCE. Charles Moskos. Schenkman
Publishing, $5.95.. A sociological analysis of
West Indian problems.

THE VIEW FROM THE BARRIO. Lisa
Redfield Peattie. U. Michigan Press. 1968.
About Venezuela.

THE YOUNGEST REVOLUTION; A
PERSONAL REPORT ON CUBA. Elizabeth
Sutherland, with photos by Leroy Lucas. Dial
Press. Cloth $5.95, paper $1.95. Eyewitness
account of daily life in Cuba.

URBAN PL MANNING IN
PRE-COLUMBIAN AMERICA. Jorge Enrique
Hardoy. 128 pp. Illus. maps. Braziller. Cloth
$5.95, paper $2.95.

WEST INDIAN CHILDREN IN LONDON.
Katrin Fitzherbert. 111 pp. G. Bell & Sons
(London). 1967.


Order now:
PUERTO RICO
by Marvin Schwartz
direct from Caribbean Review
at $6.25(list price $6.95).