Sergio Ramírez Mercado (American Spanish: [ˈseɾxjo raˈmiɾes]; born August 5, in . () (To Bury Our Fathers, ); Castigo Divino () (Divine Punishment, ); Clave . Create a book · Download as PDF · Printable version. Editorial Reviews. Review. Sergio Ramírez (Masatepe, Nicaragua, ). Ganador del Premio Reemprendió la escritura con la novela Castigo divino ( Alfaguara, ), Premio Dashiel Hammett. Un baile de máscaras (Alfagura, ) ganó. (), Castigo divino (), Un baile de máscaras (), Margarita, está linda estructura en Margarita, está linda la mar de Sergio Ramírez” suggests that.
|Language:||English, Spanish, Portuguese|
|Genre:||Fiction & Literature|
|ePub File Size:||21.76 MB|
|PDF File Size:||11.69 MB|
|Distribution:||Free* [*Sign up for free]|
Request PDF on ResearchGate | On Jan 1, , U Quesada and others Truth, power and police fiction: The case of 'Castigo Divino' by Sergio Ramirez. guans, Ernesto Cardenal and Sergio Ramírez, and of the evolving construc- ence he wrote in exile, and Castigo divino, an intricate portrait of Central. Oct 8, castigo divino golkes. sergio ramirez ecuador meaning sergio ramirez pdf (mĂŠxico ) online trailer pdf. savita bhabhi.
We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. La rebelion de los nifios. Seix Barral. Sergio Ramirez. Castigo divino. Nueva Nicaragua. Sergio Ramirez is probably best known as vice-presiCristina Peri Rossi hails from Uruguay, but in she dent of Nicaragua; however, he is also the author of moved to Spain as an exile and for the last few years has been residing in Sweden.
Hay otros que salen de las fronteras. De repente van a ganar un buen premio. Yo no tengo ninguna duda de eso, porque creo que hay mucha seriedad en su trabajo. Se tiene o no se tiene.
Se cultiva por medio de la disciplina en el trabajo, la lectura intensa… La escritura es un entrenamiento. Se es poeta o no se es poeta. Pero una novela no.
Una novela necesita mucho tiempo. Todos tienen el mismo valor en el arte. Pudo haber sido en una noche, pero es una obra de arte. Yo a lo que me refiero es que la novela tiene una arquitectura diferente. No mayor; diferente. Yo creo que la literatura nace muchas veces del conflicto. Del conflicto social y tener una historia que retratar, pero no necesariamente.
Yo creo que vivir de la escritura es un compuesto. De la literatura. En la forma que te estoy explicando. Bueno, pero yo no quisiera ser Paulo Coelho.
Muy pocos… Son muy pocos los que pueden decir que viven solo de la venta. En la adversidad. Yo soy un escritor de tiempo completo. Volumes IV and V concentrated on the half century from c. Volume IX now the only volume still in progress will be a history of Brazil and of Latin America's international relations — predominantly relations with Britain, continental Europe in particular Germany , and above all the United States.
Volume X is devoted to the history of ideas and culture in Latin America since c. The Cambridge History of Latin America Volume X, Latin America since Ideas, Culture and Society opens with a long chapter — the longest of any in the entire History - by Richard Morse that explores the 'multiverse of identity' both national and regional identity in Latin America from the s to the s through the writings of novelists, essayists, philosophers, historians and sociologists.
The volume also includes chapters on Latin American music for the most part "art music', but with a note on popular music by Gerard Behague, on Latin American architecture by Damian Bayon, and on Latin American art also by Damian Bayon.
It concludes with chapters on the history of the Latin American cinema by John King and on the history of radio and television the mass media in Latin America by Elizabeth Fox. The early sections of some of the chapters in this volume to some extent overlap with the later sections of Gerald Martin's chapter on the literature, music and art and early cinema of Latin America from to in CHLA Volume IV. Like Volume VI, this volume was an unusually long time in the writing and editing.
Some chapters were commissioned more than a decade and a half ago. Many have been extensively revised and rewritten over the years. I am grateful to the authors of these chapters for their patience, especially Richard Morse. His chapter was one of the first ever to be discussed on the beach at Leblon in Rio de Janeiro sometime in the late s, as he cruelly likes to remind me and is one of the last to be published.
Gordon Brotherston, on the other hand, accepted an invitiation to contribute a chapter when the rest of the volume was already largely written. John King generously agreed to write the chapter on cinema when Julianne Burton was forced to withdraw.
Jason Wilson at a late stage agreed not only to contribute a chapter on poetry after to complement Jaime Concha's chapter on poetry in the first half of the twentieth century but also to supply the bibliographical essay that accompanies both.
Sadly, Damian Bayon died during the final stages of the editing of the volume. I am grateful to Richard Morse, Director of the Wilson Center's Latin American Program at the time and himself a contributor to the volume, for the support he gave in the organization of this conference. Several contributors to this volume — four British two resident in the United States , three North American, one Chilean resident in the United States and one Argentine resident in France — commented on the chapters of their colleagues.
Although the word keeps losing its edge, new generations periodically resharpen it. The term is so loose that one can apply it to anything from mankind at large1 to a single person seeking self-knowledge via psychotherapy. Artists, poets, historians, anthropologists, philosophers and politicians entertain versions of identity even when not consciously in quest of it or not confident of the term's utility.
This chapter will consider identity primarily with reference to national societies, to aggregations of national societies Latin America , and to sub-national societies or groups.
Two distinctions are important. First, identity, which implies linkage to or manifestation of collective conscience, is not the same as 'reality', a word widely used in Latin America to mean historical, socio-geographic factors that might be recognized as creating a circumambient reality.
Both terms fluctuate between a descriptive, empirical meaning and a prospective or promissory one. Identity is not 'national character' as diagnosed by detached socio-psychiatry but collective awareness of historic vocation. Reality starts with environment, identity with tacit self-recognition.
Identity, a human universal, assumed special accents with the rise of modern nations. Germany was a strategic case. Germany has been called the first 'underdeveloped' country, implying that its advent on the world stage required not merely political sagesse, military prowess, and economic weight but affirmation of collective selfhood.
Because England and France became somewhat unwittingly the first 'developed' countries as the industrial age dawned, their intelligentsias were more at home with political and economic matters than with the portentous metaphysical interests of Germans. In philosophizing, moreover, the English and French tended to conflate their national ideals with recipesformankind at large. This produced a body of Enlightenment thought which in its more glib and self-serving aspects encountered head-on challenge from German romanticism.
By the early nineteenth century this German rejoinder was a powerful solvent on mind and sensibility in England and France. The lessons that the German analogy holds for Latin America and, more concretely, the ultimate influences of German ideas upon the region are examined later in the chapter.
For the moment an illustration will show how present-day thinking on identity still falls under the shadow of the Enlightenment versus romanticism construction or, as in the case at hand, empiricism versus holism. In a collective work published in , eight historians addressed the topic of colonial identity in the Atlantic world using six case studies three of which were Brazil, Spanish America and the British Caribbean to compare the formation of distinctive patterns in the period to The authors pursued their inquiry in a detached Anglo-empirical spirit rather than the empathic, holistic tradition of romanticism.
The introductory chapter for example endorsed a quest for positive indicators of the 'process of identity formation' and cited such possible deterrents as the lack of printing presses in Brazil for three centuries or the absence of universities in the British West Indies until the s.
Identity is thus seen, as it was in the Enlightenment, as manipulable by technological and institutional innovation. Scholars from the region itself had already addressed two of these cases 2 Nicholas Canny and Anthony Pagden eds. Antonio Candido, one of Brazil's foremost literary historians and critics, sees the absence of presses and gazettes in colonial Brazil not as inhibiting collective identity but as shaping it.
Given an illiterate society, sacred oratory with its spoken word adapted to baroque arabesques and symbolism, was an ideal genre.
Brathwaite believes the distinctive spoken language of the present-day West Indies to be an emergent nation language, a form of 'total expression' that provides the keystone for regional identity.
His colleagues at the School of Education, University of the West Indies, Brathwaite finds, have set out the grammar and syntax of the nation language but cannot connect it to literary expression. The whole school system, he holds, imposes a Victorian set of literary attitudes and responses that block creativity.
The crux of the matter lies still deeper.
The language issue lies not simply in lexicon, phonetics and subject matter but is rooted, Brathwaite argues, in the English capitulation since Chaucer to iambic pentameter. Caribbean life - the African legacy; the oral, communal expression of the people - is alien to the English language as parochially practised in England. What the storm does roar in and what people do dance to — the young literati of the s found out from their traditional calypsos — is a dactylic beat.
This discovery provides academic nomenclature to legitimate everyday facts of life. Until then the disinherited must use the emergent nation language as a 'forced poetics' that perpetuates their culture while disguising self and personality. For literati and universities, one might venture, identity is not their invention but their belated recognition of social circumstance. More germane to present purposes is the 'existential' commitment expressed as follows by W. Auden: 'In contrast to those philosophers who begin by considering the objects of human knowledge, essences and relations, the existential 3 4 5 Antonio Candido, 'Oswald viajante', in Vdrios escritos Sao Paulo, , pp.
Antonio Candido, Literatura esociedade Sao Paulo, , pp. Fiedler and H. Baker, Jr.
For a general treatment, see Richard M. This informal inquiry can be launched in such a spirit, by placing Latin America alongside two other civilizations that confronted the industrial West in the nineteenth century — namely, Japan and Russia. This is not done in the empirical vein of meticulous 'comparative history' but simply to help sketch out a set of questions more useful for present purposes than the ones more frequently posed in academic circles.
Japan had for centuries acquired civilizational ways from the Chinese. Fruitful adaptation brought self-knowledge and, when the time came, an impressive capacity to select what was needed from the West with few confusions of purpose. The germ of Tokyo University was an institute of 'barbarian learning' designed to translate Western texts that seemed useful for the Japanese national project.
This project was preceded by a scholarly movement to free Japan from the formalism and pedantry of the Chinese Confucian tradition although not at the expense of the tradition itself attended by evocations of Japanese spirit and esthetic. Such evocations have been likened to the quest by German romantics of the same period for an unbridled release of domestic tradition. As in Japan there was awareness of a domestic civilization that required decisions on what was to be 'protected'.
The Russian generation of Slavophiles and Westernizers defined the dichotomy, with the former dreaming of an ideal pre-Petrine Russia and the latter of an ideal West. Westernizers complicated matters with their 'Russian rehash' of Western ideas, however, while Russian nationalists sent for study to Germany succumbed to a crypto-Francophilism more fanatical than even the chauvinism of the Parisian boulevards.
How Latin America fits into our summary comparison hinges on how the notion of an original culture is handled. The Japanese recognized a domestic culture to which exogenous elements were to be selectively 6 7 8 Quoted in Miczi Berger Hamovitch ed.
See Marius B. French, new ed. Ann Arbor, Mich. Nineteenth-century Latin America, in contrast, was not a single nation, while its fragmented parts shared the culture and religion of the Iberian peninsula, by then a 'backward' region of western Europe. For Russian critics the societies of England and France may have represented soulless atomism, but for modernizing elites in Latin America these European leaders were paragons. And, if such elites regarded their Ibero-Catholic heritage as declasse, all the more so were the hundreds of Afro-American and Amerindian communities that were stigmatized by past or present bondage.
Whatever opposed the progress of the urban, Europeanized world was to be effaced. Consider the military campaigns against 'natives' and backlanders under General Roca in Argentina and under the Mexican dictator Porfirio Diaz in Sonora and Yucatan and the Canudos war in Brazil.
Even 'judicious sociologists' like Carlos Octavio Bunge and Alcides Arguedas were agreed that 'nothing could be expected of the degraded aboriginal people'. On the other hand, many Russians, whether Europeanizers or Slavophiles, felt after that socialism would never regenerate bourgeois 'equilibrium' in the West and that Russia's 'primitive' collectivism offered possibilities for direct transition to modern socialism. Latin American elites, in contrast, apart from intransigent conservative factions or occasional free spirits, were prepared neither to question the implications of Western technology, rationalization and imperialism nor to promote broad consensus on matters of national culture and tradition.
In his early writings, the Mexican philosopher Leopoldo Zea held that for Latin America the nineteenth century was in effect a 'lost century'. The point is that they were often adrift when it came to identifying domestic ingredients to be 9 10 Sec Jose Luis Romero, hatinoatnhica: las ciudatUs y las ideas Buenos Aires, , p.
Abbott and L. Dunham Norman, Okla. The classic example is Domingo Faustino Sarmiento Argentina, , whose reflections on the life and times of the Argentine caudillo Facundo in Civilization y barbarie seemed to pit liberal Europe as filtered through Buenos Aires against the 'barbarism' of the pampas.
The general point, however, is that well-to-do classes throughout Latin America, including their 'enlightened' and reformist spokesmen, freely applied the term 'barbarian' not, as did the Japanese, to foreigners but to groups within their own countries who were assignably 'native': Indians, mestizos, Afro-Americans, or dirt farmers of Iberian descent. The decisive rebuttal to Sarmiento came from Jose Marti Cuba, 1 8 5 3 95 who, if he did not excel Sarmiento in his gift for social portraiture, was a more adept analyst of social process and the exigencies of nationhood.
In an incisive passage in 'Nuestra America' he challenged those who mistook the struggle between 'false erudition and Nature' as one between 'civilization and barbarity'. The natural man is good, and he respects and rewards superior intelligence as long as his humility is not turned against him. Nationalism had taken hold in Latin America but without the romanticist implication of rootedness in the people.
Until the early twentieth century, pensadores, essayists and historians seemed agreed that cultural questions were a province of diagnosis and prescription reserved for intellectuals. The idea that people at large were the bedrock of national identity was incongruous in default of sustained, pluricentric, multiideological popular movements such as had shaped political awareness " Domingo F.
Criscenti ed. Sarmiento, Author of a Nation Berkeley, Foner ed. New York, , pp. Thinkers, theologians, ideologues and politicians might supply doctrine and tactics for these diversely composed movements, but their roots were in widespread feelings and aspiration.
Save for its African population, the United States was settled by emigres from the two 'revolutions', thus internalizing them. Latin America, however, resisted them. The mother countries barred Protestantism at the gates, along with its messages concerning modern individualism. Europe's later proletarian 'revolution', which took forms from government paternalism through a gamut of socialisms all the way to anarchism, syndicalism and terrorism, made only tentative incursions because of the limited scope of industrialization in Latin America, the lasting efficacy of elite 'conciliations', and a permanent reserve army of workers.
However much the pensadores may have kept abreast of progressive thought in Europe, the people whom they claimed to 'think for' were blocked from forming coherent movements that might have given inspiration, definition and support to the critiques made by the intelligentsia.
The identity question therefore consists not entirely of a consensual act of portraiture by sensitive observers but also of a popular voice, featuring the disinherited, that pursues outlet in the generalized discourse of society. For two reasons the identity search came later in Latin America than in Western Europe and the modernizing world, achieving full momentum only in the twentieth century.
First, it was only by the s and s that there occurred a conflation of intellectual and popular outlooks as exemplified in letters and visual arts in Mexico, modernist manifestoes in Brazil, socio-political dialogues in Peru, ethno-literary pronouncements in Haiti and diverse manifestations elsewhere.
Secondly, with regard specifically to the pensadores, we have argued that their assurances of prior European identity were in the last century too problematic, and their confidence for sustaining critical exchange with ideologies of the industrial West too insecure, to favour a coming-to-terms with world currents. They acquiesced in regnant prescriptions for 'progress' and ruefully confessed their domestic retardation.
Here again the early twentieth century was a renovative moment. For suddenly the vanguard voices of Europe, attuned to earlier prophetic cries of the Baudelaires and Nietzsches, were raised in cacophonous condemnation or even condemnatory exaltation of the rationalist, scientistic and menacingly dehumanizing premises of the Western enterprise.
One might call modernism a cognitive assault on the contradictions of modernity. In its golden age —30 modernism, particularly from its Parisian arena, finally made its impact on Latin America, but not in a merely tutorial role. For Europe now experienced the crisis of nerve associated with technification, commodification, alienation and rampant violence as these found expression in Marxian contradictions, Spenglerian decadence, Freudian invasions of the subconscious, and of course, industrialism and the First World War.
This seeming collapse of evolutionary assumptions gave Latin Americans leverage for dismissing presumed determinisms of their past and for inventing a new 'reality' and a new future.
Europe now offered pathologies and not simply models. Disenchantment at the centre gave grounds for rehabilitation at the rim. Latin America had to produce its own Rousseaus and Herders at the same time that it was keeping up with the Picassos and Joyces.
Over the years many have claimed that Latin American high culture was derivative from metropolitan sources in the nineteenth century and suddenly responsive to indigenous or indigenista leads after Almost the reverse is true. What made the Latin American prise de conscience of the s possible was not the artists' and intellectuals' stubborn appropriation of 'native' subject matter but their bold acrobatics to retain intellectual footing amid the disintegration of Western rationales and received understandings.
With the centre now unstrung, views from the periphery earned respect. Alejo Carpentier was to discover the world as polycentric and Jorge Luis Borges to find that it has no centre at all.
As the Mexican novelist Carlos Fuentes puts it, 'the Western writer can be central only in recognizing that today he is ex-centric, and the Latin American writer only in recognizing that his eccentricity is today centered in a world without cultural axes.
Carlos Fuentes, La nueva novela hiipanoamericana, 6th ed. Mexico, D. Jose Carlos Mariategui, 'jExiste un pensamiento hispano-americano? Lima, , pp. Here he found Marxist analysis of social and economic domination an eye-opener and learned to admire how modernism, especially surrealism, could shatter the solid bourgeois world into absurd fragments.
It was to a degree the modernist impulse that led him to extract Marxism itself from positivist armature giving its scientific message mythic force, translating its categories into praxis and relativizing its pretension to universal evolutionism.
In Mariategui sensed that his query about Hispanic American thought was germinating in the 'nerve centers of the continent', although he felt that the true question was whether there existed a characteristically Hispanic American thought.
He chided the Argentine socialist Alfredo Palacios, who had proclaimed the hour at hand for 'radical emancipation' from European culture. Europe had been the lodestar, wrote Palacios, but the Great War showed its culture to contain the seeds of its own decay. Palacios, Mariategui felt, had led youthful tropical temperaments to exaggerate the prospects for Latin American thought.
It was a tonic, he said, to call 'our America' the future cradle of civilization or to proclaim, as Jose Vasconcelos had in his motto for the National University of Mexico, that: 'Through my race the spirit will speak.
The West was in crisis but far from collapse; Europe was not, 'as is absurdly said, exhausted and paralytic'. Capitalist civilization was dying, not Europe. Greco-Roman civilization had long since perished, but Europe went on. Who could deny, Mariategui asked, that the society of the future was being shaped in Europe or that the finest artists and thinkers of the age were European?
He therefore acknowledged a French or German thought but not yet a Hispanic American one, which instead was a 'rhapsody' of European motifs.
One might in the countries of the Rio de la Plata speak of a spirit of 'Latinity', but it awoke no recognition from autocthonous peoples of the continent. The purpose of this chapter is not to provide an inventory of trends and genres but to review and selectively illustrate various tactics, whether deliberate or unwitting, for establishing recognition of shared identity.
Cultural history in an academic vein would assign Latin American modernism to the s, the identity essay to the s and s, and history of ideas to the s and s. Such pigeon-holing, however, omits the tangled antecedents, both New World and European, of these expressive forms and forecloses appreciation of their persistence after the assigned decades.
In the twentieth century, cultural expression in Latin America has acquired a heavier retrospective concern, and the logic of exposition requires overrunning the designated decades. The chronological ladders of literary history matter less than the cumulative impact of self-recognition.
First, then, we sketch the career of modernism in three locations during the s and s. The first two of these locales are not countries - the usual reference point for literary histories — but cities. Unlike, say, romanticism or realism, which managed a broad geographic palette, modernism required the arena where mind and sensibility awoke to specifically modern features of the Western world view: velocity, simultaneity, collage, inversion, free association, catachresis, the cult of machines and rationality — but not to the exclusion of 'primitive' evocations.
The two cities chosen are Sao Paulo, the burgeoning financial and industrial capital of South America, and Buenos Aires, its earlier commercial and cultural capital.
It was assigned an act of cognition. Martin S. Abellan, La idea de Amirica, origen y evolution Madrid, A note of decadence, of ominous warning was sounding in both high and popular culture.
So accepted was the cosmopolitan ethos that commonplaces of domestic history and culture assumed a mythic cast, as in the nostalgic Argentine gauchismo. Brazilians might exalt their bandeirantes, or colonial path-finders, as did modernist poet Cassiano Ricardo in a dithyrambic account of their exploits or modernist sculptor Victor Brecheret in a monumental public statue; yet the bandeirante, historically quite as venerable as the gaucho, had not faded into a mythic past but was exemplary for pioneers of a dynamic future.
He was a flesh-and-blood hero, unlike Ricardo Giiiraldes's oneiric, 'shadowy' gaucho in Don Segundo Sombra , who concludes the most renowned work of Argentine fiction of the s by fading from sight as a man, leaving the observer's meditation cut off from its source, his lifeblood flowing away. Here inquiry probes beyond 'reality' to a domain of enigma or paradox. The challenge is not cognition but decipherment. If the Brazilian 'anti-hero' of Mario de Andrade's Macunaima finally goes off to muse alone as a star in the vast firmament, it is not because the old life has evanesced but precisely because it is all too tenacious, too real, in a land 'sem saude e com muita sauva' — with no health and lots of ants.
Although in retrospect the Mexican Revolution seems not to have been a full-dress socio-political renversement, it did at least convert Mexico City into a radiant, innovative centre by what was then interpreted as a collective act of vision and volition.
The revolution itself became a 'modernist' event by working lightning reversals and expansions of sense and sensibility. Under its inspiration the painterly imagination fused Aztec deities, the latemedieval danse macabre rediscovered by Jose Guadalupe Posada , German expressionism, and Montparnasse cubism, not to mention Renaissance muralism and Spanish ecclesial baroque.
The revolution, Octavio Paz has said, had no programme. It was a gigantic subterranean revolt, a revelation that restored our eyes to see Mexico. Thus Mexicans in the modernist age such as Paz's representative list of painters and writers Rivera, Orozco, Lopez Velarde, Azuela, Guzman and Vasconcelos were less concerned with inversion, collage, or geometric reduction than with retrieval.
Goodland New York, Orozco and Siqueiros developed a home-grown expressionism, in Siqueiros's case with ideological baggage similar to Rivera's, in Orozco's with moral and personal accents.
In Mexico, the modernist agenda was not the cognition of Sao Paulo or the decipherment of Buenos Aires but a task of propaganda in the original sense of a duty to spread the 'good tidings'. However, the interpretation of their early messages Oswald de Andrade or the cumulative influence of their unfolding work Borges took time, even decades.
Only the quasi-modernist Mexican muralists won instant fame. Years later, in , Mario de Andrade, playfully known as the pope of Brazilian modernism, poignantly recounted the fate of avant-gardism. More was needed than to break windows, joggle the eternal verities, or quench cultural curiosity: not mere political activism, not explosive manifestoes, but greater anxiety about the epoch, fiercer revolt against life as it is. This statement, while highly personal, betokens a general Latin American transition.
For reasons related to the collapse of the international economy, to authoritarian threats at home and abroad, to ominous murmurs of the dispossessed, and to ennui with hermetic or meretricious features of vanguardism, the modernist flame was wavering, to reassert its inspiration only a generation or more later.
Mario de Andrade, 'O movimento modernista', in Aspectos da literatura brasiteira, 4th ed. Sao Paulo, , pp. The former, however, moved beyond Zolaesque canons and even, paradoxically, anticipated the 'marvellous realism' of the s while the latter laid partial claim to empirical science, but a science leavened by post-positivist philosophy and modernist wit.
The late s and s created fresh context for intellectual endeavour, now conducted with an eye to such external circumstances as the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War, the Second World War, and the incipient Cold War and to such domestic trends as the advent of populist politics and the developmentalist alliance between the state and new industrial groups. The mid-i94os saw the appearance of reformist, constitutional regimes, while rapid urbanization, the growth of middle sectors with a supposed stake in a stable order, and the by now canonical imperative of development 'from within' seemed to brighten possibilities for revolutionary change.
Modernist extravagance seemed whimsical and dated save for monumental products like Mexican murals or Brazilian architecture, absorbable to the purposes of mushrooming bureaucracies. Imaginative writers tended private gardens unless they found occasions for political statement Pablo Neruda, Miguel Angel Asturias or enticed the growing audience for 'best sellers' Manuel Galvez, Erico Verfssimo, Jorge Amado or consolidated their careers around research and institutional service Jorge Basadre, Sergio Buarque de Holanda.
Various circumstances contributed to endow the identity question with a less nationalistic, more speculative dimension: the effect of the Spanish Civil War in incorporating the Hispanic world to global politics; the modernization of Spanish academe and the transatlantic migration of many of its finest scholars; the effect of the Second World War in assimilating Latin American countries to a purported democratic partnership and in subsequently prescribing their global economic role.
Just as modernism had played its part in shaping sensibilities in the s, so in the late s and s philosophy, and particularly the schools of phenomenology and existentialism, played a part — inconspicuously for a general public — in rehabilitating the intellectual image of the American continents.
What is more, the Germanic style that caught on gave cachet to Latin American philosophizing while slighting the Anglo American analytic vein in favour of a holism more consonant with Iberian precedents. The next three sections of this chapter, then, examine modernism, the novel and essay, and philosophy as moments of a.