Similar to most who ever come to know of Malinche and her story, she was introduced to me randomly and fleetingly through a high school history class assignment. Since then, I've become enthralled by her life, periodically revisiting publications I've known about/have previously read and seeking out new ones every few years to see if any fresh details about her have miraculously been unearthed. Malinche's Conquest is of the former category.
I first purchased this book as part of my research for that aforementioned history paper, and I've read it numerous times since. Each time, I come away with something new in terms of sentiment even though the actual words are unchanging. Of all the texts I've read about Malinche since first learning of her, this one continues to be my favorite for a number of reasons.
I have always enjoyed Lanyon's approach to Malinche's story by trailing the known and rumored locations that comprise the time line of her brief life. In that way, each time I've read the text, it always feels more like an active adventure than a one-note, impersonal recitation of limited facts about a largely enigmatic figure. The incorporation of details about Lanyon's own life (e.g., meeting with friends of friends during her time in Mexico City, making new connections in other Mexican cities along the way, speaking to parallels she sees between indigenous identity in Mexico and in her native Australia) also lends well to the overall draw of the book itself. And Lanyon being a linguist gives her an atypical connection to Malinche, what with her intimate understanding of the importance of language, its nuances, and the integral role accuracy plays in effective spoken communication.
Lanyon does a stand-up job job of humanizing Malinche. She points out that what we today call "Mexico" did not yet exist in Malinche's day—it was neither a country/unified entity nor a singular empire. Instead, that region within Mesoamerica was a composite of numerous rival principalities and tribes. She also underscores the reality of being a captive/enslaved indigenous woman at that time (as was the case with Malinche), stripped of agency and self-determination while being used as a transactional pawn in an all-but-universal male-centric world (evidenced by her being "gifted" to Cortés and his men upon their arrival and later, Cortés himself marrying her off to one of his men shortly after she bore Cortés's a son).
Also, because so little of Malinche's life can be substantiated (due to a lack of historical documentation about her specifically), it's unclear what tribe she actually belonged to, considering that by the time the Spaniards arrived, she had already changed hands of ownership a number of times. Both facts (the nature of pre-independence/conquest Mexico and life in captivity) thus render moot the long-held misconceptions of Malinche betraying "her people" and the indignation many feel over her "choosing" to interpret for Cortés/the Spaniards and be a "willing" participant. Moctezuma and the Aztecs were, in fact, not Malinche's "people" in any sense of the word, and there would have been no "choosing" or display of "will" with regard to whether or not to go along with the Spaniard agenda, for not doing so likely would have been a mortal decision.
And perhaps the saddest part is, even if Malinche had refused and somehow managed to escape with her life, it's more than likely that some other indigenous soul (male or female, though more likely the latter given their lot in life at that time) of similar circumstance would have met the same fate (and ensuing notoriety) as Malinche. Modernity and hindsight very much take for granted that we are now able to name and recognize the Spaniard agenda for what it was: savage colonization. Yet at that time, Malinche and all indigenous peoples in the Americas who came into contact with the Spaniards had no indication of or insight into who or what they were, let alone the devastation they would wrought.
Still, even in light of all of this, it can be hard for many not to place at least partial blame on Malinche for the outcome given the relentless disparagement associated with her name in the centuries since she lived. It's all too easy to paint her as an indigenous iteration of Eve, from her perceived indefensible betrayal, right down to her role as inherent foremother as a result of giving birth to Cortés son (preposterously deemed the "first" mestizo). Unfortunately, this perception is only exacerbated by the fact that we will never know what she actually thought or felt considering no documented firsthand account from her exists. This has allowed for the prevailing defamation of Malinche to endure and the existing disjointed puzzle pieces with regard to her life have only been able to supply sparse factual information.
As a result, the fact that Malinche was not just an interpreter and gifted polyglot, but had other roles as an unwitting challenger of cultural norms and conventions (being Cortés's "voice" in forums and spaces from which women were barred and that thus could have incited great fear in her), a potential missionary (again, in the absence of her own account, it's impossible to know if she was a true convert/believer in Christianity or just pretending to be for the sake of survival, 78), and a skilled assessor of circumstance (her lived experiences and intuition clearly facilitated her perseverance in the face of hostility, both when among the Spaniards and when encountering unfamiliar tribes while enslaved and then as an interpreter). Not to mention that it was nothing short of miraculous that Malinche not only survived the genocide of the conquest but also wasn't overtaken by the rampant disease (namely, smallpox) that finished off the indigenous people that somehow managed to evade the butchery. Of the little we know of Malinche, she clearly had a talent for survival and possessed courage in spades to prove it.
Whether she meant to or not, Malinche's name and very presence in her day came to command respect among indigenous people she encountered while among the Spaniards (so much so that because Cortés was so closely affiliated with and seen with her for the sake of transaction, he was often locally called by her name instead as a means of identification (82); a stark contrast to how she's predominantly viewed today. Under a different set of circumstances, all of this would amount to Malinche being viewed as an intrepid trailblazer rather than a cunning traitor. In that vein, I also appreciated Lanyon challenging the rhetoric (at times romanticized, at others hypersexualized) of her as Cortés's "lover" and/or a provocatrice when girls and women (particularly enslaved ones) were sexually objectified, thus not considered owners of their own bodies capable of giving consent.
There are so many other details about what's known of Malinche's story and its trajectory that I always find compelling: Cortés taking Moctezuma's daughters as captives/concubines (137) and even impregnating one of them after the fall of the Aztecs and the execution of her father; Cortés potentially murdering his Spaniard wife (141); the fact that many natural elements (e.g., volcanoes, waterways) now bear Malinche's name though her name is still largely maligned. Whenever I think of Malinche, I'm always struck by the fact that how she's perceived so starkly counters the perception of other well-known historical indigenous women, who are viewed/aquire reputations as warrior heroines (e.g., Anacaona), innocuous means to an end (e.g., Sacagawea), or enchanting diplomats (e.g., Pocahontas). Similarly, it was shocking to read of how Cortés has been regarded with contempt in Mexico (170) in contrast with how Columbus has been all but nauseatingly deified in Dominican Republic and other parts of Latin America, for example.
I think Malinche's story will always haunt me because of all that will seemingly remain a mystery. As a result, we're often left with conjecture and deficiently awful historical fiction rendered in a misguided effort to make up for the unknown. I would love to one day read such a work that does her justice, but in the continued absence of that, I'll keep returning to Malinche's Conquest with the same inexplicable hope each time that I'll discover something new just from rereading it.
Noteworthy lines and passages:
"She was a young woman without country or family. She had been passed from hand to hand, from her parents to the men from Xicalango, from them to some anonymous Mayan lord in Photo chan, and finally to the Spaniards. Bilingualism is frequently the bitter fruit of exile, and so it was in Malinche's case. Her bilingual voice was emblematic of her misfortunes, but suddenly it offered her the protection, however temporary, of the commander of this stage expedition." (70-1)
"Diaz tells us also that because the people who watched them pass prefigured Cortés so closely with Malinche, they called him by her name: 'Malinche' or 'Lord Malinche'. It is a curious reversal of the usual conventions. To think that this most famous of conquerors, whose own concise Spanish name has thundered so relentlessly through history, was known initially among the people he has come to conquer by the bent of his concubine, a captive woman, a slave: Malinche." (82)
"Translation is an imperfect and subjective art famously susceptible to the intrusions of the translator." (117)