The Cypresses Believe in God-Dale Price Review

I am tempted to call Jose Maria Gironella’s classic the Spanish version of War and Peace, only reversed to Peace and War. There are similarities, as the books share the reactions of a large cast of characters to historical events, heavily-salted with conversations about political, religious and social matters. However, unlike the Russian work, the stage is smaller, and the notable figures of the era not only do not appear on it, they are rarely mentioned.

Gironella meditates on the Second Spanish Republic and its slide into the partially-failed military coup which resulted in civil war, covering the years 1931-1936. The characters are almost countless, but the main players are the Alvear family: father Matias, mother Carmen, sons Ignacio and Cesar and daughter Pilar. They live in the mid-sized city of Girona (spelled Gerona in the translation), part of the region-which-wants-to-be-a-nation, Catalonia. Matias is a telegraph operator and Carmen tends the home. Ignacio is briefly a seminarian, but does not have a vocation. He works at a bank and, sadly he turns to the dark side and studies law. The more frail Cesar has a genuine vocation, and Pilar works as a dressmaker.

Initially, all is fairly well. The Alvears are not wealthy, but they make ends meet. Matias studies Catalan as best he can, as the nationalism of the region demands it. Carmen manages the home with the steely determination of a loving and devout Basque mother. The pious (but not cloyingly-so) Cesar gradually comes to be regarded as a saint, though he explodes with rage at the anti-Catholic rampage which breaks out across the Republic near the end. Pilar blossoms into a vivacious young lady and falls for a charismatic member of the Falange. And Ignacio?

Ignacio is the central character of the narrative. He rebels against his Catholic upbringing, gets tangled up with a married woman and then a streetwalker before finally straightening out after a frightening brush with illness. He is a classic angry young man outraged by the injustices and backwardness of Spanish society, the failures of the Church, and finds himself swept up in the demands for political and social reform. He is also the main character through whom Gironella explores Spain’s descent first into chaos and then into fratricidal slaughter.

Ignacio’s illness changes his approach, if not his perspective. He still sees the injustices. But he doubts the proposed cures, which range from the communism of a former bank co-worker, the Falangism of a fellow law student, the socialist materialism of two beloved married teachers, the hardline (though later softened) Catholicism of the local monsignor, and the charitable endeavors of middle class Catholics. Ignacio comes to the realization that while each has insights into the Spanish predicament, each is insufficient on its own–including his own moderate socialist preferences. 

The problem resides instead in the soul of Spain: the fall from greatness, wounded pride, envy of the more modern and/or prosperous (both Spaniards and other nations), grievances (justified or not), stubbornness that would give a mule pause and, worst of all, fraternal hatred. 

This last is what I think is the central theme of Cypresses: the instinctive recourse to hatred. And Gironella was not the only one who noticed this Spanish phenomenon. 

Go here to read the rest.  During any great historical event, life goes on, with most people trying to live their lives as normally as they are able.  What Gironella demonstrates is that this quest to do so is one of the saving graces when having the misfortune of living in historically interesting times.  That, and maintaining one set of standards for friend and foe alike.