Zorro by Isabel
Allende
Chilean author Isabel Allende has taken on the daunting task
of providing the classic El Zorro with the one thing he never seemed to be able
to steal since his birth in 1919 to pulp writer Johnston McCulley, an origin
story. Here, Señora Allende takes
elements from his various incarnations in pulps, books, comics, television and
movies, and weaves them into a tapestry of high adventure, providing a link for
the faithful Bernardo (his milk brother) Toranado, his faithful steed, and the
despicable Rafael Moncado.
As the son of the prosperous hacienda owner, Don Alejandro
de la Vega, Diego de la Vega was privileged.
His mother however was a mestizo, a powerful warrior woman named
Toypurnia. In winning her heart, Alejandro
ensured that his son would have a much wider view of the world. Growing up with his milk brother, Bernardo,
Diego learned to love people for who they were, not where they came from. Sent to Spain by his father to complete his
education, he falls in love, falls out of favor, falls in with Gypsies, and
falls into a secret organization that will shape his life. Each quest and adventure seems to give Diego
a new skill, or forge a new strength, or burn away a weakness, all of which
moves the young Diego and Bernardo to their destiny.
It is a curious thing, because Allende throws in the most
humanizing elements in really spectacular ways; Isabel de Romeu has a wandering
eye, described as cute and endearing, and Zorro’s mask performs the all
important job of pinning his distinctive jug ears to his head. And honestly, these little imperfects,
discussed casually in an offhand manner really do much to bring the heroes from
the pulps to people you can relate to.
But while her characters might be more down to earth, and
subject to the same foibles, and pitfalls that harass thee and me, the
adventure is purest pulp, from working undercover in a Gypsy circus, to fleeing
arrest disguised as religious pilgrims to their harrowing capture by the
Pirate, Jean Lafitte. Zorro takes on
soldiers with pistols and muskets with sword and whip, and they are no match
for his brilliance. He rights the wrongs,
punishes the wicked, and helps the destitute.
He is, in every possible way, a Hispanic Robin Hood.
I think that is why his story is doing so well right
now. Diego de la Vega is a rich man, but
his sympathies lie with the common man.
In these times of banks that are too big to fail, and bankers who are
too rich to jail, and politicians who are quite comfortable lying to your face
when they know the proof is on tape, it is heartening to see a hero who stands
up to them, who brings down their plots and schemes, who helps the oppressed,
and does it all without sinking to their level.
That is why Zorro was so popular, at the start of the Roaring Twenties,
when the Robber Barons ruled, and during the Depression, when the entire
country suffered from their unbridled excesses.
When the government stepped in and regulated business and protected the
people, Zorro’s popularity waned. Now,
with the regulations set in place by our great grandfathers all stripped away,
the time of corrupt, untouchable elite has returned, and Zorro, unsurprisingly
rides again to find himself relevant once more.
The version I “read” was audio; the narrator was Blaire
Brown, and it was a delightful experience.
There is something…refreshing…in seeing a swashbuckling adventure told
through the eyes of a woman. Usually
when you think of Tarzan, Zorro, pirates, and other “boys’ adventures” you
think of, well, male narrators, male authors, male sensibilities. But filtering Don Diego de la Vega’s ideas
about women and romance through our humble narratoress adds a rich dimension to
the proceedings.
All in all, it was an excellent and enjoyable read, and it
has prompted me to go forth and find the original works by Johnston McCulley, I
having never read them before, only experiencing Zorro second hand in comics, TV
and movies. I have to say, I am looking
forward to it.
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