cesar vallejo`s el tungsteno

CESAR
VALLEJO'S
EL
TUNGSTENO
LON
PEARSON
BRIGHAM
YOUNG
UNIVERSITY
Some Vanguard poets gained more fame from their novels than from their poetry.
This was the case with José Eustasio Rivera, who wrote La vorágine (1924) and Ricardo
Güiraldes, author of Don Segundo Sombra (1926). Both these works are classical
"Novelas de la Tierra," which brought their authors international renown. It is often only
after learning of the importance of these authors in the role as novelists that one later
discovers their stature as important poets of their generation.
The opposite is true of César Vallejo whose prose writings have virtually been ignored.
His poetry ranks him as Perú's greatest bard and also as one of Spanish America's
foremost poets. As to his seldom-read fiction, Vallejo's most famous prose work is El
tungesteno, an anti-imperialist novel published in 1931 in Madrid; however it is not
generally recognized as a great work of art. Rather it has historical value as a. work of
socialist realism, which was the principal Marxist movement of the 1930s.
During the 1930s one finds several different European influences and movements
such as surrealism and socialist realism shaping the prose of Spanish America. The overall
blanket movement of the period, called Vanguardismo was not a simple unified tendency.
In fact when one goes through most literary histories and anthologies of Spanish and
Spanish American works, one finds that Vanguardismo is presented as basically a poetical
concept (mostly made up of the so-called –ismos).1 Moreover poetry generally took a
different path and went a different direction than did the prose fiction of this past century.
This varying of tastes also led to differences of opinion, and such a striving to develop
different styles also tended to fragment the literary output of some of the authors and to
cause polemics between two basic influences.2
1. Among some of the movements there were more traditional influences that
played a great role in writers like Vallejo. For example, criollismo, nativismo and
indigenismo (as well as other trends) led to the many Vanguardists’ desires to develop a
"national” expression of identity. Some of the early attitudes of Vanguardista writers
were strongly nationalistic in tone and Vallejo is no exception (El tungsteno is very proPerú and anti-Yankee). In an international sense the sociological "Novelas de la Tierra"
are excellent examples of this Vanguardist commtitment to literature.
2. As a more innovative or radical expression there were new European
influences that guided, maybe even bombarded Vanguardismo: French Surrealism,
Dadaism, as well as many other –isms. And an international movement that has been
greatly ignored in comparative literature is the Marxist movement in prose fiction called
socialist realism. In Vallejo's novel we find a dream sequence, which was possibly more
Freudian than surrealist. But most important is that El tungsteno is an attempt to write
socialist realism.
A majority of Spanish American writers belonged to only one school (say
estridentismo, dadaismo, or nativismo, for example). In one instance—in Chile—writers
launched a polemic during the year of 1938 about traditional writing versus surrealism
and socialist realism.3 Yet, in a few other instances, authors experimented with several
styles, as did Neruda and, perhaps, Vallejo.
During this study we will examine Vallejo's style, tone, and his characterization
techniques to attempt to understand why El tungsteno fell short of the public's
expectations. Also we will examine where outside influences, such as socialist realism,
may have changed [guided-cut] his method of writing.
In his "proletarian novel," El tungsteno, Vallejo modifies the prose style, which
he had adopted in his earlier Vanguard writings (or he attempts to change it) to allow his
later prose-writing style to conform to the rhetoric that many authors assume in works of
international socialist realism. Compare an example from his early prose, Escalas
(Cuneiformes:) "Muro este" (1923), to some of Vallejo's later prose and keep in mind his
Los heraldos negros and Trilce:
E sp e ra o s.
N o a tin o a h o ra c ó m o e m p e za r.
Y a .
A p u n ta d a q u í,
d o n d e a p o y o la y e m a d e l
d e d o m á s
la rg o d e m i
zu rd a .
N o re tro c e d á is,
n o te n g a s
m ie d o .
A p u n ta d n o m á s.
¡Y a !
B rrru m … M u y b ie n .
S e b a ñ a a h o ra e l
p ro y e c til
e n la s
a g u a s
d e la s
c u a tro b a m b a s
q u e a c a b a n d e e sta lla r
d e n tro d e m i
p e c h o .
E l
re b u fo m e q u e m a .
D e p ro n ta la se d a c ia g a m e n te e n sa h a ra m i
g a rg a n ta y m e d e v o ra la s
e n tra ñ a s...
* * * Y e l
p ro y e c til
q u e e n la sa n g re d e m i
c o ra zó n d e stro za d o c a n ta b a y h a c ia p a lm a s
e n v a n o h a fo rc e je a d o p o r
d a rm e la m u e rte .
— ¿ Y b ie n ? — C o n é sta so n d o s
v e c e s
q u e firm o ,
se ñ o r
e sc rib a n o .
¿ E s
p o r
d u p lic a d o ? 4
Almost like a poem in prose (a genre which produces novels which are always more
than a little nebulous), this selection maintains the tone and irony that Vallejo had
developed in Los heraldos negros.
His first prose works, which were innovative and metaphorical are very different
from the rhetorical and uninspiring narrative that one finds at the end of El tungsteno:
D e n tro d e l
ra n c h o ,
e l
a p u n ta d o r
tra n c ó su p u e rta ,
a p a g ó e l
c a n d il
y se a c o stó .
N o a c o stu m b ra b a d e sv e stirse ,
a c a u sa d e l
frío y d e la m ise ria d e l
c a m a stro .
N o p o d ía d o rm ir.
E n tre lo s
p e n sa m ie n to s
y la s
im á g e n e s
q u e g u a rd a b a d e la s
a d m o n ic io n e s
d e l
h e rre ro ,
so b re “ tra b a jo ” ,
"sa la rio ",
"jo rn a d a ",
"p a tro n e s",
"o b re ro s"',
"m á q u in a s",
e x p lo ta c ió n ",
"in d u stria ",
"p ro d u c to s",
"re iv in d ic a c io n e s",
"c o n c ie n c ia d e c la se ",
"re v o lu c ió n ",
"ju stic ia ",
"E sta d o s
U n id o s",
"p o lític a ",
"p e q u e ñ a b u rg u e sía ",
"c a p ita l",
"M a rx ",
y o tra s,
c ru za b a e sta n o c h e p o r
su m e n te e l
re c u e rd o d e G ra c ie la ,
la d ifu n ta .
L a h a b ía q u e rid o m u c h o .
L a m a ta ro n lo s
g rin g o s,
Jo sé M a rin o y e l
c o m isa rio .
R e c o rd á n d o la a h o ra ,
e l
a p u n ta d o r
se e c h ó a llo ra r.
E l
v ie n to so p la b a a fu e ra a n u n c ia n d o te m p e sta d .
(2 8 1 )
Though this selection of enumerated Marxist keywords— which is also the final
paragraph of the novel—is not as obvious in its rhetoric as are many other passages, it is
nonetheless a good example of Vallejo’s fragmented style. And while the end of the
novel is not very persuasive, one must remember the underlying propagandist intent of
the book. The author is attempting to promulgate Marxism and convince us of the need
for revolution. A better example of his ideological stance can be seen in the countless
rhetorical questions that Vallejo asks whenever he places himself in a position where he
becomes a spokesman for socialist causes:
L o s
h e rm a n o s
M a rin o e ra n o rig in a rio s
d e M o lie n d o .
[… ]
¿ C o n q u é d in e ro e m p e za ro n a tra b a ja r? N a d ie ,
e n v e rd a d ,
lo sa b ía a c ie n c ia c ie rta [...]
¿ C ó m o y c u á n d o p a sa ro n d e la c o n d u c ta o c o n te x tu ra m o ra l
d e p ro le ta rio s,
a la d e c o m e rc ia n te s
o b u rg u e se s? ¿ S ig u ie ro n ,
a c a so — u n a v e z
d e p ro p ie ta rio s
d e la tie n d a d e C o lc a — ,
sie n d o e n lo s
b a sa m e n to s
so c ia le s
d e su e sp íritu ,
lo s
a n tig u o s
o b re ro s
d e M o lie n d o ? L o s
h e rm a n o s
M a rin o sa lta ro n d e c la se so c ia l
u n a n o c h e d e ju n io d e 1 9 0 9 .
L a m e ta m ó rfo sis
[sic ]
fu e p a té tic a .
(2 1 3 )
This subjective narrative style which includes an abundance of rhetorical
questions seldom appears in the first half of the novel—much of which was written in
Perú before Vallejo went to France, Russian, and Spain, and received lessons on dialectic
materialism. However in the second half of El tungteno, which was written around 1930
after Vallejo joined the communist party, there are countless instances of this type of
rhetoric.
Another characteristic which is obvious in both Vallejo's poetry and prose is his
evolution from a personal to a social emphasis. In El tungsteno Vallejo deemphasizes the
Christian "existentialist" anguish, which he portrays so capably in the poetry of Los
heraldos negros and the prose of several of his short stories. He called his approach to
literature "cólera divina," in those particular works in which he dealt with spiritual
problems. The dream in the first half of El tungsteno is a good example of his "divine
rath" type of literature.
In his later works, whenever he emphasized social problems and conflicts,
Vallejo termed his approach to such questions "dolor social". Vallejo attempted to
convert El tungsteno into a work demonstrating his intense "social sorrow."
Cesar Vallejo's El tungsteno is a work generally considered to be part of an international
Marxist movement of the 1930s and 40s, called socialist realism, a literary ideology which
produced proletarian novels. However, in essence, if one evaluates the work critically, El
tungsteno is a work which does not totally reflect the theories of that Marxist movement.
A major problem with El tungsteno is that Vallejo was never able to decide what
kind of novel he wanted to write. He had collected fragments of at least two very
different novels (Sabiduria and Código civil)5 and attempted to write them into his new
socrealist (social-realist) novel, El tungsteno. Sabiduría was basically a dream
sequence—neither a short story nor a novel. Código civil was to be an indianist /
indigenista novel, but in El tungsteno the Indians only make cameo appearances and are
not well-developed characters. At one moment there is a sort of “proletarian hero” who
comes on the scene, Servando Huanca, but his characterization as an Indian is very
forced, and his development is sketchy, at best:
E ra S e rv a n d o H u a n c a ,
e l
h e rre ro .
N a c id o e n la s
m o n ta ñ a s
d e l
N o rte ,
a la s
o rilla s
d e l
M a ra ñ ó n ,
v iv ía e n C o lc a d e sd e h a c ía u n o s
d o s
a ñ o s
so la m e n te .
U n a sin g u la r
e x iste n c ia lle v a b a .
N i
m u je r
n i
p a rie n te s.
N i
d iv e rsio n e s
n i
m u c h o s
a m ig o s.
[...]
E ra u n tip o d e in d io p u ro :
sa lie n te s
p ó m u lo s,
c o b rizo ,
o jo s p e q u e ñ o s,
h u n d id o s
y b rilla n te s,
p e lo la c io y n e g ro ,
ta lla m e d ia n a y u n a e x p re sió n re c o g id a y c a si
ta c itu rn a .
(2 4 6 )
Huanca is not very Indian in his sociological and ethnic traits, though Vallejo attempts to
paint him physically as an Indian. (Off the record he appears to be more of a "cholo"—
especially since he is blacksmith. Moreover he almost represents Vallejo in his
wandering ways and in their both being persecuted for sedition.)
Vallejo inserts early in El tungteno the dream sequence of Sabiduría, which
doesn’t fit (at least not where it was inserted). It might have been more meaningful near
the end of the novel. Vallejo jumps all over the place in his setting. If the novel is an
attack on foreign mining, why move the action to Colca and later to an Indian village to
criticize bourgeois ways and the mistreatment of Indians? But worse is his dizzying focus
on un-developed stereotypes: José Marino, bourgeois merchant; Leónidas Benites, an
engineering student (and a representation of Vallejos himself); and finally, in the closing
paragraph of El tungteno that I quoted above, a new character without a name, simply “el
apuntador,” who was not seen before in the novel, at least not directly. Vallejo lacked the
technique for characterization in his novel. No sooner has he introduced a character
whom the reader thinks will become the proletarian hero, than Vallejo loses the thread of
development. Either Benites or Huanca, or even the anonymous “apuntador” (the
timekeeper), could have been developed as heroes of the fiction. It appears that Vallejo
was too rushed, too confused as how to best develop his protagonists.
As we observe the book evolve from a work entailing typical Vanguardist
tendencies to one with a superficial cap of socialist realism, we should be aware that
several of the motifs that Vallejo has inserted appear to denigrate dialectic materialism
and the socialist realism that he was attempting to master and use for ideological
purposes. For example, Leónidas Benites (a possible representation of Vallejo) was
deeply concerned at the end of the novel about converting to Marxism, but the Indian
Huanca and the “apuntador” are very good to point out to him that he is at best only a
fellow-traveler. His only redeeming hope is to forsake the Bourgeoisie and become truly
“proletarian.” Vallejo loses this important ideological conversion which he could have
developed in the novel. By appearing to have Benites join the proletarians only for
purposes of vengeance he attenuates the socrealist development that he should have
achieved:
— ¡E sc o ja u ste d !
¡Y e sc o ja u ste d c o n sin c e rid a d ,
c o n fra n q u e za y sin e n g a ñ a rse a u ste d m ism o !
[… ]
¡P ié n se lo !
¡U ste d m ism o m e d ic e q u e le d a n a sc o y p e n a y ra b ia lo s
c rím e n e s
y ro b o s
d e lo s
"M a rin o "!
¡U ste d m ism o e stá c o n v e n c id o d e q u e [...]
la "M in in g S o c ie ty "
n o h a c e m á s
q u e v e n ir
a l
P e rú a s a c a r n u e stro s
m e ta le s,
p a ra lle v á rse lo s
a l
e x tra n je ro !
¿ E n to n c e s? ...
¿ Y a u ste d m ism o ,
p o r
q u é lo h a n b o ta d o d e su p u e sto ? ¿ P o r
q u é ? ¿ U ste d c u m p lía c o n su d e b e r? ¿ U ste d tra b a ja b a ? ¿ E n to n c e s? — ¡P o rq u e T a ik se d e ja lle v a r
d e lo s
c h ism e s
d e M a rin o !
—
re sp o n d ió e n u n a q u e ja in fin ita B e n ite s— .
¡P o r
e so !
¡P o rq u e M a rin o m e d e te sta !
¡S ó lo p o r
e so !
¡P e ro y o sa b ré v e n g a rm e !
¡P o r
e sta lu z
q u e n o s
a lu m b ra !
¡Y o m e v e n g a ré !...
[… ]
— ¡E so e s!
— d ijo d e sp u é s
H u a n c a a B e n ite s— .
¡H a y q u e v e n g a rse !
¡H a y q u e v e n g a rse d e la s
in ju stic ia s
d e lo s
ric o s!
¡P e ro q u e e sto n o se q u e d e e n sim p le s
p a la b ra s!
¡H a y q u e h a c e rlo !
(2 7 9 ‐8 0 )
I do not say that reivindicaciones (revenge/vindications) are not one of the tools
of the revolution. What I am saying is that Benites is not shown to be evolving as a
proletarian hero, something which is essential for the development of the novel as a work
of socialist realism.
Another tool of vengeance (a kind of ace-up-his-sleeve), which Benites will use is
somewhat racist and not in keeping with the noble goals of the proletarian revolution. It
turns out that Benites can get back at his gringo employers who fired him, because
Benites has found a letter from Mr. Taik's father, which the "gringo" had dropped. The
letter proves he is German, not American. Because the novel is set during World War I,
Benites can bring justice down on the head of the German who is passing himself off for
a gringo/yanqui:
— ¡Y o te n g o c ó m o fre g a r
a la "M in in g S o c ie ty "!
— le s
d ijo e n v o z
b a ja — .
M iste r
T a ik n o e s
y a n q u i.
¡E s
a le m á n !
¡Y o te n g o la s
p ru e b a s:
u n a c a rta d e su p a d re ,
e sc rita d e H a n n o v e r!
¡S e le c a y ó d e l
b o lsillo u n a n o c h e e n e l
b a za r,
e sta n d o b o rra c h o ...
(2 8 0 )
Again, the type of assertions that these proletarians are attempting are not those of
most works of socialist realism. They are using "dirty tricks" much like those used by
their bourgeois bosses. Actually, as a seasoned Socialist, Huanca keeps things in
perspective; it is Benites who fails to develop in the novel.
Another important point about the conclusion of the novel is that if Vallejo
wanted a German name for the American, he should have changed characters and used
Weiss and not Taik for this possible German character. Both Taik and Weiss are the evil
gringos. But in their etymology, Weiss (‘White’) is German and Taik is a name Vallejo
probably invented. We can assume that they are to be interpreted as the English terms
"Wise and Take," ironic “terms or names” to stereotype the characteristics of his gringos.
However, there is another possibility as to his using Taik not Weiss: that Vallejo is
hinting that both men are Germans, not Gringos. But I doubt it, for if that were the case,
we would have in the conclusion of the work a case of German espionage—a spy novel.
Thus while Vallejo had a noble message to convey, he failed to get his message
across in a convincing manner. Also his characterizations come out flat and
undeveloped.
We discover that much of the first part of El tungteno is a personal and intimate
expression while the portions of the novel written after Vallejo joined the communist
party in about 1929 were his attempt to enter the realm of socialist realism.
At Vallejo's death several unpublished stories and fragments of novels were
discovered. It was only after his death that the total vision of his prose output was
available. Moreover it became obvious to several critics, especially Juan Larrea, that
Sabiduría, the novel fragment, was also included as part of El tungteno. In preparing for
this article, I chanced to discover that the same episode appeared as Sabiduria as well as
part of El tungteno. However, because I later discovered that the topic has been discussed
at length, the wind was taken out of my sails. Nonetheless I want to refer to that chapter
in closing to indicate certain stylistic changes in Vallejo's fiction.
In Sabiduría, Benites speaks to the image of Jesus Christ in the painting above
him in his bedroom:
— ¡S e ñ o r!
¡A p a g a la lá m p a ra d e tu triste za ,
q u e m e fa lta c o ra zó n p a ra re fle ja rla !
¿ Q u é h e h e c h o d e m i
sa n g re ? ¿ D ó n d e e sta [sic ]
m i
sa n g re ? ¡A y se ñ o r!
[sic ]
¡T ú m e 1 a d iste ,
y h e a q u í
q u e y o ,
sin sa b e r
c ó m o ,
la d e jé e m p o za d a e n lo s
rin c o n e s
d e la v id a ,
a v a ro d e e lla y p o b re d e e lla !
B e n ite s
llo ró h a sta la m u e rte .
— ¡S e ñ o r!
P e ro tú sa b e s
d e e sa sa n g re ,
n i
b la n c a n i
n e g ra ,
ro ja c o m o lo s
c re p ú sc u lo s
y la s
in c e rtid u m b re s,
y líq u id a y sin fo rm a ,
o b lig a d a a to m a r
la fo rm a d e l
lu g a r
q u e la c o b ija .
(1 2 6 )
And the same passage adapted by Vallejo to be used in El tungsteno:
— ¡S e ñ o r!
¡A p a g a la lá m p a ra d e tu triste za ,
q u e m e fa lta c o ra zó n p a ra re fle ja rla !
¿ Q u é h e h e c h o d e m i
sa n g re ? ¿ D ó n d e e stá m i
sa n g re ? ¿ D ó n d e e stá m i
sa n g re [se re p ite ]
¡A y ,
S e ñ o r!
¡T ú m e la d iste y h e a q u í
q u e y o ,
sin sa b e r
c ó m o ,
la d e jé c o a g u la d a e n lo s
a b ism o s
d e la v id a ,
a v a ro d e e lla y p o b re d e e lla !
¡S e ñ o r!
¡Y o fu i
e l
p e c a d o r
y tu p o b re o v e ja d e sc a rria d a !
¡C u a n d o e stu v o e n m is
m a n o s
se r
e l
A d á n sin tie m p o ,
sin m e d io d ía ,
sin ta rd e ,
sin n o c h e y sin se g u n d o d ía !
[A n d fro m h e re o n it
c h a n g e s
ra d ic a lly ;
p .
1 9 4 ].
If Benites feels guilt for anything during this dream in the novel, it is perhaps for
desiring to be a social climber (arribista). Such a social disease is one of the motifs of the
novel that Vallejo handles masterfully. In fact, if Vallejo had merely structured the novel
around the theme of social climbing, El tungteno would have been a much more solid and
artistic novel dealing with a socialist problem.
C o n c l u s i o n (I need to add that in the novel, religión does not seem to offer the
redemption that being a proletarian does.)
Socialist realism was a movement that was introduced to Latin America during
the Vanguard movement, so El tungteno is an important novel in Cesar Vallejo's';
evolution as well as in the evolution of Hispanic prose. But it has turned out to have
more historical value than vanguardist value. Vallejo’s experience in Europe led to his
writing the novel, but he had attempted to write it earlier in Peru. In spite of the novel's
most obvious defects (many of which are inherent in some Marxist-inspired novel's), El
tungteno is a work that allows us to understand better the humanistic side of Vallejo and
his evolution from psychological anguish to social concern and commitment. In short,
religion does not seem to offer the redemption that being a militant proletarian does.
NOTES
1
One
could
refer
to
one
of
the
many
histories
of
literature
or
a
very
extensive
discussion
of
Vanguardismo
can
be
found
(complete
with
a
discussion
and
linkage
to
the
numerous
–ismos
in:
http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vanguardismo
2
My
book,
Nicomedes
Guzmán:
Proletarian
Author
in
Chile’s
Literary
Generation
of
1938
(Columbia:
University
of
Missouri
Press,
1976),
goes
into
details
about
the
differences
between
some
of
the
movements.
There
were
many
innovative
and
radical
forms
of
expression
in
the
European
movements
that
influenced
and
even
bombarded
Vanguardismo:
such
as
French
(and
Spanish)
Surrealism,
Dadaism,
as
well
as
many
other
–isms.
But
the
international
movement
from
Russia,
a
style
of
writing
that
has
been
greatly
ignored
in
comparative
literature,
is
the
Marxist
movement
in
prose
fiction
called
socialist
realism
(also
written
socrealism,
and
should
not
be
confused
with
the
Spanish
movement
called
social
realism).
3
Francisco
Santana,
“La
nueva
generación
de
cuentistas,”
Atenea,
279–80
(1948),
99–125,
and
286
(1949),
62–92.
Both
articles
were
later
incorporated
in
La
nueva
generación
de
prosistas
chilenos
(Santiago:
Empresa
editora
Zig‐Zag,
1949).
In
these
writings
Santana
goes
into
details
about
the
debates
between
the
vanguardist
/
surrealist‐leaning
writers
and
the
socialist‐realist
writers
of
the
Generation
of
1938
in
Chile.
4
Cesar
Vallejo,
Novelas
y
cuentos
completos
(Lima:
Editorial
Jorge
Alvarez,
1967),
pp.
17‐18.
(It
includes
El
tungteno.)
Subsequent
references
to
this
edition
will
give
the
pagination
in
the
text.
5
Juan
Larrea,
“Acerca
de
El
tungsteno,”
Aula
Vallejo:
Centro
de
Documentación
e
Investigación
(Córdoba)
11–13
(1972–74),
257–280;
cf.
pp.
276–277.