I bought "The Republic of Dreams" when it was first published in English, so it has spent much time on my bookshelves. It is 688 pages. Piñon is Brazilian, and fellow writers, like Jorge Amado and Clarice Lispector, are brilliant and have achieved global status. In retirement, I have read a few other lengthy novels–Roberto Bolaño’s "2666," Olga Tokarczuk’s "The Books of Jacob," and Javier Marias’ "Your Face Tomorrow: Fever and Spear"–that were challenging and engrossing. I had high hopes for "The Republic of Dreams." I have read a little over 300 pages of the novel, and I am stopping. Reading has become drudgery. Perhaps I will get back to the novel later.
"The Republic of Dreams" begins well, clearly structured with vivid characters and a familiar plot line. It is a family saga, about immigrants from Galicia settling in Brazil in the early 20th C. with a timeline that extends to the late 1960s. The book begins with the dying of the matriarch, Eulália, who as of p. 300 has not died. Piñon works in flashbacks. But the beginning led me to think of Gabriel García Márquez’s story, “Big Mama’s Funeral.” Piñon, though, does not use magic realism, so Eulália does not begin the novel as the center of a fantastical network of power, influence, property, goods, and money. Piñon is a realist, and "The Republic of Dreams" reads like a Balzac novel adapted for 20th C Brazil. The dreams of this novel are not surreal, disrupting linear time. They are either nostalgic and romantic (nationalist[Galicia, Brazil] home, family, identity) or pragmatic and future-oriented (financial success, integration, political power). The tension between these two types of dreams marks the novel. Besides an omniscient narrator, the novel focalizes through the patriarch, Madruga, and his granddaughter, Breta.
In Galicia, the teenager Madruga wants to emigrate to Brazil and succeed where other Galician men have failed. While he sees his future on the other side of the Atlantic, his ties to Galicia are very strong. He loves being in the mountains herding cattle and sheep; he loves the stories, legends, and myths that his grandfather tells again and again. Like his grandfather, he is extroverted and voluble. Madruga is deeply Galician, and yet he aspires to more than Galicia can give him, for he is of a poorer peasant stock and cannot simply buy his way into the landholding aristocracy with the resources he has. On board the ship to Brazil, Madruga meets Venancio, who is full of romantic emotions and ideas but cares nothing for the practicalities of wealth accumulation and social power. Representing the romantic and pragmatic impulses, Madruga and Venancio become both foils and fast friends, partners in this migrant adventure, reproducing the novel’s fundamental tension.
After he has achieved an initial level of success, Madruga returns to Galicia to find a wife so that he can start a family. Eulália is the daughter of an aristocratic family, and it is Madruga’s success that allows him to break through the class barrier and negotiate with her father for her hand. She represents another version of the novel’s tensions. She is a tie to Galicia and, more importantly, a tie that signals success (social mobility and the breaking of long standing class barriers). In Brazil, she and the six children she produces represent family and future. She is the epitome of Madruga’s vision, his dream, for himself and the family.
Piñon builds the novel around the nexus of Madruga, Eulália, and Venancio. To be more precise, it is Madruga’s headlong obsession with success that impels the plot, and Eulália and Venancio are the principal reflectors and refractors of his dreams, thoughts, and actions. Madruga needs them to help him make sense of what he is doing and the choices he makes. To a lesser degree, the next generation performs the same function, as a sometimes resistant extension of their father’s dream and will. Later in the novel, his granddaughter Breta serves in that roll as well.
"The Republic of Dreams" is also a historical saga, so it moves through important touchstones of Brazilian and world history: slavery in Brazil, the Spanish Civil War, Brazilian government and dictatorships (Vargas, etc.), the Great Depression, Brazil’s involvement in WWII. There are themes of class, labor vs. capital, mental illness (dreams disappointed), passion, and storytelling.
There are problems here, though. Although Piñon focalizes through Madruga and Breta, the narrative voice is always the same: sincere but distant, a romanticized language often more elevated than the characters would speak. Piñon is always outside her characters. She doesn’t enter their minds, thinking, or emotions. As a result, the novel is told in a kind of monotone, which does not differentiate the characters very much, and they all end up sounding the same, like Piñon’s omniscient narrator. Perhaps related, the characters don’t change. Once Piñon establishes them, they don’t develop. She’ll send them through her many historical moments and plot threads, and they don’t change. Their actions, thoughts, and reactions become predictable. For example, Madruga is always going to be Madruga, driven and sentimental. Piñon needed to delve more deeply into her characters, into their thinking and emotions. She needed to develop the nuances of their psychology. Because she doesn’t, she ends up repeating herself. Time passes, and history happens, but the characters seem stuck in a feedback loop.
I just got bored reading "The Republic of Dreams." It neither challenged nor engaged me. I will simply abandon a short novel that doesn’t engage me, but with a long novel I develop a stake in it and hope that if I just read a bit further something will happen that will hook me. Perhaps there is something in the last half of "The Republic of Dreams" that would have hooked me, or perhaps it needed to be a much shorter novel.