The Book:
Zorro: A Novel
By Isabel Allende
Harper Perennial
2006
The Talk:
Heroism is a badly remunerated occupation, and often it leads to an early end, which is why it appeals to fanatics or persons with an unhealthy fascination with death. There are all too few heroes with a romantic heart and a fun-loving nature. Let me say it straight out: there is no one like Zorro.
Isabel Allende’s 2006 novel Zorro tells the origin story of one of the original pulp action heroes of the 1920s and an inspiration for Batman. It’s a romantic adventure tale, occasionally dark, but mostly playful and often funny, in the vein of The Princess Bride or The Once and Future King.
The best parts are, unsurprisingly, when Diego de la Vega transforms into his alter ego Zorro, dripping with charm, wit, and humor:
He jumped down from the table and hopped from chair to chair, closely pursued by Moncada, who was more and more maddened. “Do not tire yourself, it is not good for the heart,” Zorro goaded him.
By day, Diego poses as a foppish dandy, waving a lace handkerchief and taking anise pills for his weak constitution. By night, he is Zorro, with a black mask, cape, pistol, whip, and rapier, and his black horse Tornado. He is also full of tricks, magic, deceptions, and acrobatics. He defends the weak against the strong and fights for justice in a world of cruelty and oppression—leaving a “Z” behind on his victims as a mark of his victory rather than killing them (somehow merciful and humiliating at the same time). And the pleasure of the tale is how Diego acquires all these elements over the course of his childhood and youth, and how they all come together in the end.
The scale of the world encompassed in the book goes far beyond Mexican California. It includes a Russian ambassador from Alaska, a journey through Panama, French-occupied Spain, the swamps of New Orleans, and everything in between. Along the way we learn about the Spanish mission system, Napoleonic political dynamics, and the business operations of pirates, gypsy religious beliefs, and voodoo burial rites.
A double identity
The twist that Allende brings to Zorro is that in her telling Diego is a mestizo, with a Spanish father and a Shoshone mother who is a warrior and freedom fighter. Zorro grows up between these two worlds, gaining fencing skills and refinement from his father’s culture, and values of justice and bravery from his mother. Underneath the Vega hacienda are hidden sacred Indian caves that function throughout the plot but also serve as a kind of metaphor of Diego’s identity.
He receives his identity as Zorro (Fox) during a Shoshone vision quest as part of an Indian initiation rite into manhood. White Owl, his grandmother who is a shaman, explains:
“The fox saved you. That zorro is your totemic animal, your spiritual guide,” she explained. “You must cultivate its skill, its cleverness, it’s intelligence. Your mother is the moon, and your home, the cave. Like the fox, you will discover what cannot be seen in the dark, you will disguise yourself, and you will hide by day and act by night.”
Diego’s best friend Bernardo is also mixed race, though he reads to other characters as an Indian, while Diego reads as a white Spaniard. In this way, they are treated differently throughout the book, even though their upbringing is almost identical. They are such close friends they have an almost psychic connection—two people with the same soul. This motif of doubles plays throughout the book and into the climax of the action.
Some of the characters with Indian ancestry deny their indigenous heritage, while others embrace it, and these tensions drive in the inner conflicts of many of the characters in the book. Diego’s connections to his native identity are seen by others as a kind of weakness or failure, something that needs to be hidden. And yet the story’s major theme is the way in which being between races and cultures and classes is a kind of superpower. Diego has access to knowledge, skills, people, and resources that make him far more formidable than he would be if he was “pure.” Similarly, Bernardo’s social invisibility allows him to slip into any situation without being noticed.
None of the main characters in the story fit the roles or categories of society quite right, and the journey of each of them is a journey of finding a place (through luck and ambition) where they get to be their true selves. Like so many superhero stories, Diego starts Zorro as a performance, though it ends up being an expression of his truest soul—playful, clever, romantic, and heroic. A caballero (gentleman) who identifies with Indians, befriends gypsies, and frees African slaves is not a thing that exists in Diego’s world, thus the role of Zorro must be invented.
Gen “Z”
“Gracias, señorita,” he said.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Zorro.”
“What nonsense is that, señor?”
“No nonsense, I assure you, Lolita. I cannot explain everything now, for time is precious, but we shall see each other again,” he replied.
“When?”
“Soon. Leave the window of your balcony open, and one of these nights I will come to visit you.”
Like a lot of origin stories, Zorro leaves you wanting more because it ends at the moment when things are about to get really good. You spend most of the book eagerly awaiting Diego to do a lot more Zorro stuff, only to see the curtain come down when he finally goes full tilt.
First and foremost, the novel is an entertaining story. But it also seems like a tale that ought to resonate with American society today. The number of Americans who identify as multiracial has surged (in part due to changed census rules that allow respondents to do so). Many prominent politicians that are read as “black” or as “white” are actually mixed race, as are many CEOs. Approximately 20% of marriages today are interracial as well. Many Americans experience daily code switching between their heritage culture and their pragmatic culture.
In the novel Diego reconnects with his mother after a long time apart and she speaks to him in her Shoshone language.
In that language they could be affectionate; in Spanish they would’ve spoken formally, without touching. The first language was for sentiments, the second for ideas.
(In my family, as in many American families, Spanish is the language of affection.)
What is seen as division and a source of pain can be brought together into a new kind of unity, though it may require (through cosplay of all things 😊) the invention of a whole new identity that has no category, that does not yet exist.
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