SPAIN BOOK REVIEW: ‘Soldados de Salamina (Soldiers of Salamis)’ by Javier Cercas

Soldiers of Salamis

In the final moments of the Spanish Civil War, fifty prominent Nationalist prisoners are executed by firing squad. Among them is the writer and fascist Rafael Sanchez Mazas. As the guns fire, he escapes into the forest, and can hear a search party and their dogs hunting him down. The branches move and he finds himself looking into the eyes of a militiaman, and faces death for the second time that day. But the unknown soldier simply turns and walks away. Sanchez Mazas becomes a national hero and the soldier disappears into history. As Cercas sifts the evidence to establish what happened, he realises that the true hero may not be Sanchez Mazas at all, but the soldier who chose not to shoot him. Who was he? Why did he spare him? And might he still be alive?

~

Soldiers of Salamis was first released in Spanish in 2001, just one year after the Association for the Recovery of Historical Memory was founded, set on carrying out the task of excavating bodies left hidden after the Spanish Civil War. The author took on the subject of the war in a time when he felt many of his generation were not talking on the subject, and the 2007 Historical Memory Law, giving the task of digging up the past a mainstream light,  was still far away.  In a time when some voices were still just starting to be heard gain, this book clearly points out that history is merely the opinion of who tells the story, and a hero and villain can be hard to identify when faced with individual tales.

The book is put into three parts. The first tells the story of a journalist, given the same name as the author, who decides to find more about the story of founding fascist Rafael Sánchez Mazas. After an interview with the son of Sánchez Mazas, he writes an article on the man, but decides to find out more. He goes on to find the revealing tale of the night Sánchez Mazas is to be executed in the forest, and the Republican soldier who hunts for him amongst the trees and finds in him cowering the dark, and yet turns away and lets him live. Sánchez Mazas goes on to struggle to survive in the hills outside Girona, and after being taken in by a generous family, he meets three Republican men, who know that they are about to be the losers of the war. Despite their differences (Sánchez Mazas is the highest living member of the fascist party in Spain) they become friends in a brief yet solidifying time in 1939. The tale is written as if the author is retelling what he has heard, giving it a personal approach.

The second part tells the story of Sánchez Mazas, biography style, of an upper class man who shows great talent for writing, but cares little for publishing his poetry. Married to an Italian, he sees value in Italy’s fascism policies and seeks to recreate such ideals in his home nation. After hiding in the Chilean embassy for the first year of the war, he is then taken prisoner on the ship Uruguay until the end of the war, when he is taken to the countryside to be killed by firing squad. There his miraculous escape occurs.

The third book is more fiction, where the journalist Cercas is determined to seek out the Republican solider who let Sánchez Mazas go free. Cercas meets Miralles, a former French Foreign Legion with a history of brave Civil War tales. Miralles never confirms that he indeed was the soldier who chose to set Sánchez Mazes free, despite the journalist being convinced he has found the right man.

Throughout the book, Sánchez Maza’s little green notebook is mentioned, written as he struggles through the forest with his unlikely friends, who are also the enemy. All men went on to live lives of vastly different stature after the event, and the little notebook attempts to give details and validity of the story of Sánchez Mazas, his firing squad escape and battle for survival.

Most Civil War tales tend to be told from the Republican point of view, but the author chose to see it from the Nationalist point of view instead, and makes no assumptions. Never is Sánchez Mazas considered a hero in the book, and neither are opposing soldiers during a time when Spain changed forever. It shows how each individual was their own man, fighting through the turmoil that erupted around them. A moment of a shared gaze between a fleeing fascist and a Republican, who chose not to pull the trigger is the centre, along with the certainty that men are men, never heroes in war.

Rafael Sánchez Mazas seems to be someone not spoken of often, which seems unusual. A founding member of the Falange, he escaped the fate of his collaborator Jose Antonio Primo de Rivera. After spending his pre-war years setting up Falange newspapers and various other publications, and years as a prisoner, he went onto be a minister in Franco’s government, and his sons and grandsons now are also writers. Soldiers of Salamis was translated into English in 2003 and made into a movie in Spain, Soldados de Salamina, the same year. The book was a best-seller in Spain, and I am ashamed to admit it has taken me this long to read the book. It is rare to read a Civil War book which such a lack of prejudice.

Valencia Photos of the Month: Palacio Ripalda

After doing a well-known landmark in the last installment, this week is an iconic Valencian scene that was wiped from the earth in a moment of a politician’s stupidity. Not sure which one? Palacio Ripalda, which would sit on the north side of the Turia over the Pont del Real bridge, had the castle not met its demise.

In 1889, María Josefa de la Peña Paulín, the Countess of Ripalda, commissioned a palace from architect Joaquín María Arnau Miramon, on Paseo de la Alameda, over the river from the central city of Valencia. The design copied French chateaus, unseen in Valencia, and construction was complete in 1891. The castle mimicked the rise and fall of the family who had her built.

The tale starts with the story of  José Joaquín Ramón Sánchez Agulló de Bellmont y Ripalda, Count of Ripalda, a member of a rich ancient family who had owned many properties through the Valencian province. As typical in Spain and its feudal system, the family had a noble title and was super rich for centuries, and lorded over property here, there and everywhere. The family had streets, suburbs, walkways and lands named after them wherever they owned property. The Count was a fine arts lover and was president of the Royal Academy of San Carlos from 1860 until 1868. He also worked for the Real Sociedad Económica de Amigos del País (Royal Economic Society of Friends of the Country).  In 1863 when the International Red Cross was founded in Geneva, Ripalda was Spain’s representative and was also a conservative MP in Valencia. He went to be the president of the Red Cross in Spain, and generally lived a happy, rich lifestyle.

In 1876, Count Ripalda died, his French-Spanish aristocracy wife, Countess Maria Josefa inherited his fortune and property. She set to building the Passatge Ripalda (off Calle San Vicente), an alleyway of shops in a new European style. Apartments were built around the passage, giving it an arcade feel and led out onto Plaza Pelota (now Calle Moratín). She also commissioned a grand hotel, home to Valencia’s first elevator. But the big project came when the Countess decided to build a grand family home on the farmlands on the edge of Valencia city, next to the Jardines del Real (Royal Gardens) and along Paseo de la Alameda, the road against the edge of the river. After multiple drawings and changes with her architect, Joaquín María Arnau Miramón (who also did Passatge Ripalda, and was said to have an ‘intense professional relationship’ with the Countess, make of that what you will), the project went over budget but was completed to the Countess’ whims. The Countess didn’t live long after her castle was completed, but had enough time to fill the place with fine furnishings and artworks, all of which disappeared over time.

The castle belonged to the next Countess, but when Valencia became the capital of Spain during the civil war, Palacio Ripalda became the headquarters for the Ministry of Commerce. The last Countess died not long after the war was over and with no children, the castle was handed to her nephews, not part of the ancient Ripalda lineage. The royal title has since been renewed when relatives were appointed the Countess and Marquess name.

Palacio Ripalda fell into a state of disrepair, and while the outside facade remained in relatively good condition, the interior was said to have suffered, though this is in dispute. As time went on, and Valencia entered its construction boom of the 1960’s, the castle and its gardens started to get in the way of a new era of the city.

In 1967, as the castle sat unoccupied, Valencian mayor Adolfo Rincón de Arellano wanted to demolish and redesign the trade fair grounds next to the castle as the city expanded. It was quickly decided the castle too had to go. Despite complaints from locals and the press weighing in to save the landmark, with the help of politicians and businessmen getting together for their own gain, the castle was swiftly torn down in the name of progress. Legends started to swirl that the castle would be moved to Florida, where the stones had been sent, to rise up again, though it was more fancy than reality. The castle was torn down 100 years after another idiot spot in Valencia’s history – the tearing down the city walls, which would have made Valencia a (even more) unique location. Time obviously doesn’t stop politicians from making bad decisions.

After the demise of the castle, an apartment building was built, called the Pagoda, which isn’t exactly pleasing to the eye (though the apartments inside are nice and simple enough, I suppose). The Monforte gardens remain behind the complex, a little ode to the palace that once belonged to the regal Ripalda family.

Historical photos courtesy of Valencia Historia Grafica 

SPAIN BOOK REVIEW: ‘Hotel Florida: Truth, Love, and Death in the Spanish Civil War’ by Amanda Vaill

Hotel Florida

Madrid, 1936. In a city blasted by a civil war that many fear will cross borders and engulf Europe—a conflict one writer will call “the decisive thing of the century”—six people meet and find their lives changed forever. Ernest Hemingway, his career stalled, his marriage sour, hopes that this war will give him fresh material and new romance; Martha Gellhorn, an ambitious novice journalist hungry for love and experience, thinks she will find both with Hemingway in Spain. Robert Capa and Gerda Taro, idealistic young photographers based in Paris, want to capture history in the making and are inventing modern photojournalism in the process. And Arturo Barea, chief of Madrid’s loyalist foreign press office, and Ilsa Kulcsar, his Austrian deputy, are struggling to balance truth-telling with loyalty to their sometimes compromised cause—a struggle that places both of them in peril.
     Hotel Florida traces the tangled wartime destinies of these three couples against the backdrop of a critical moment in history. As Hemingway put it, “You could learn as much at the Hotel Florida in those years as you could anywhere in the world.” From the raw material of unpublished letters and diaries, official documents, and recovered reels of film, Amanda Vaill has created a narrative of love and reinvention that is, finally, a story about truth: finding it out, telling it, and living it—whatever the cost.

~~

I rarely read reviews before I start reading a book, so they don’t influence my opinion while reading. However, Hotel Florida seemed to pop up everywhere just prior to its release, with reviews written by those with advance copies and the like. Once I received my own copy of the book, I already had the opinions of others going around in my head. For once, it’s not a big deal, and the word that seems to be thrown at this book is ‘compelling’. With characters like Hemingway, Capa, Taro and Gellhorn, how could it be anything but compelling? Given that these characters are not new to anyone, how can pre-conceived stereotypes of characters not interfere with reading? There was only one way to find out.

For those without knowledge of the Spanish Civil War, the book starts out with timelines and facts of the who/what/ where/why’s of the conflict. I must confess I skimmed over these since I already knew the details, but this would prove invaluable to those who need to be shown the way through the civil war. They immediately show a reader that the author has gone to a great deal of effort to produce a quality read.

The book has a stellar cast – Ernest Hemingway, (the man who needs no introduction, booze, girls, writing and fighting), Martha Gellhorn (the hardest character to like, known for being lazy and lying), Robert Capa (brilliant but also fluid with the truth), Gerda Taro (young, intelligent, easy to root for, killed in her prime), Arturo Barea (a budding Spanish writer, a character who could have a whole book to himself) and Ilsa Kulcsar (a brave and intelligent Austrian leftist assisting Barea in his pursuits).

These three couples don’t have a large deal of interaction in the books, and the reader gets to jump from the mind of each character chapter by chapter, in a book which moves at a quick pace. The danger faced in Spain as intensely real and would leave a mark on each of these people forever. Hemingway folds into the role he is known for – brash, loud, writing well enough to tell the world what was happening in Spain, but also jealous and petty around other people. Gellhorn wiggles her way into Hemingway’s life, and his marriage, always possessing the air of someone who can’t be trusted, but could be a good writer with more effort. No one could ever suggest going to Spain during the war was an easy task, and these two were changed by their experiences, but at times seemed to be enjoying the war. It was a grand adventure, of front line reporting and loud Madrid parties. Fans of Gellhorn may enjoy her role in this book, though to the less informed reader, she seems like a privileged girl who lives on her whims. Only after her time in Spain did Gellhorn really come into her own, which only served to crush her marriage to Hemingway.

Capa and Taro are an infamous pair, escaping unsafe homelands in Germany and Hungary, changing their names, and setting out to make a massive impact on how the world saw the Spanish Civil War. The iconic moment when Capa (may or not may not – the book doesn’t say) faked the shot of the falling soldier weaves its way into the narrative as the pair photograph the war. It’s been said that Taro was the genius of the pair, but her death was cruel and left a deep wound in Capa, who had found a soul-mate in Taro in more than a romantic sense. The pair makes for reading that would interest even those who don’t know their exploits and photographs.

Arturo Barea is the best character in the book. The Madrileño, who opens the book contemplating how he doesn’t love his wife or mistress, has a quality different to the others. Barea has more faith in the telling the truth and doesn’t enjoy twisting the facts to make reports sound more favourable for the ever losing Republicans. While Hemingway, Gellhorn, Capa and Taro are not fixated on the truth, rather getting published, Barea is left at odds with them all. Barea finds Hemingway and is ilk to be ‘posturing intellectuals’, and Barea better understands what is stake during the conflict. The Spaniard can see the fate of the Republicans as the war unfolds and realises all Spaniards are going to pay and suffer as a result of the fighting. While others can flee, it is Barea’s home that has to live with the realities of war. He engages in an affair with Ilsa Kulcsar, who had come to Spain from Austria in an attempt to aid the Republicans, and Barea divorced his wife to be with Ilsa, which meant he never saw his children again. By the end of the war, Barea and his disdain for the war and those around him made him an outcast, and he and Ilsa had to flee to Paris with little more than the clothes on their backs. They made lives in Britain with their knowledge of Spain, war and languages in what appeared as a life long love affair.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when reading Hotel Florida – fitting all these larger-than-life characters into one book can’t be easy. It is described as ‘a narrative rather than an academic analysis’, which gives the possibility for rich, engaging characters. All the reviews I have read rave about the work, no doubt because of the level of effort Vaill has exuded while writing. While reading, I couldn’t be sure how I felt about the book – the pace made me feel as if I had fact after fact tossed to me, with so many details to absorb as the characters sped along. The book has an ode to Hemingway with some  long sentences – I counted one at 76 words, just as in the style of the big man himself. Being a narrative, I expected to be shown the story rather than to be told the tale, but this did not happen. The story of Hotel Florida is told to the reader; it does not unfold in any way, rather all the details are laid out and presented. Readers do not need to imagine anything, nor put the pieces together, rather everything is laid on the table with sharp sentences. While you cannot doubt the level of devotion Vaill has for her characters, they don’t have personalities, and readers need to rely on the details given out when engaging with these well-known people. Anyone who has edited a book knows the irritation of having to reduce adverbs or fix sentences ending in a preposition, and these basics haven’t been done in this book, but it makes the story more relaxed as a result.

The book ends with forty pages of notes (around 25% of the book on my Kindle), which shows how much effort the author put into this book. The attention to detail is meticulous, and much credit should go to Vaill for her hard work and commitment to perfection. If you are looking for a sweeping tale of wartime Spain this may not be the book for you, but if are looking for a tell-all of famous faces, then you have come to the right place. An added bonus is the cameo roles of powerhouses such as George Orwell, Kim Philby and others who also made their names in Spain in this era. Whether you want war, idealism (foolish or otherwise), love, lust and sex, or celebrity jealousy and pettiness, Vaill has rolled them together in Madrid’s Hotel Florida.

SPAIN BOOK REVIEW: ‘Unlikely Warriors’ by Richard Baxell

When a Nationalist military uprising was launched in Spain in July 1936, the Spanish Republic’s desperate pleas for assistance from the leaders of Britain and France fell on deaf ears. Appalled at the prospect of another European democracy succumbing to fascism, volunteers from across the Continent and beyond flocked to Spain’s aid, many to join the International Brigades.

More than 2,500 of these men and women came from Britain, Ireland and the Commonwealth, and contrary to popular myth theirs was not an army of adventurers, poets and public school idealists. Overwhelmingly they hailed from modest working class backgrounds, leaving behind their livelihoods and their families to fight in a brutal civil war on foreign soil. Some 500 of them never returned home. 

In this inspiring and moving oral history, Richard Baxell weaves together a diverse array of testimony to tell the remarkable story of the Britons who took up arms against General Franco. Drawing on his own extensive interviews with survivors, research in archives across Britain, Spain and Russia, as well as first-hand accounts by writers both famous and unknown, Unlikely Warriors presents a startling new interpretation of the Spanish Civil War and follows a band of ordinary men and women who made an extraordinary choice.

~~

This book caught my eye while I waited in the entry queue at the Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofia in Madrid last year. Off to see the Dali exhibit, along with a trip to see Guernica and the civil war exhibition for a second time, I spotted this book in the gift shop as I shivered in the cold. Me – war book – sold.

Talk about finding a gem. Unlikely Warriors is a remarkable accomplishment, with solid five-star reviews for excellent reason. Baxell has taken research to a new level, and used archives and interviews in the UK and the Abraham Lincoln files in New York, and material not yet published. Interviews from the Imperial War Museum in London have been accessed to give a rich account of those who went to Spain to fight the righteous fight. The International Brigades have been fleshed out like never before, along with those who went to fight for various other factions, including those who went to serve Franco’s side.

The book starts off with the realities of life in the UK for those who heard the calling to Spain. While the stereotypes stated that volunteers were ‘radical romantics or middle-class Marxists’, the reality was far different. A large majority were working class, and no doubt imagined they understood the battle that Spaniards faced. However, the upper class, intellectuals and writers were littered among the brave men, from a great range of lifestyles across the class divide. What the International Brigades had was working class men fighting alongside those highly educated, for a common cause, and Baxell has written about these people in a fluid and enjoyable down-to-earth style. The men, the majority Communists, fought under the premise that if Franco won in Spain, Hitler would then go on to victory with his own endeavours. While Britain and France sat idly by, individuals were able to see past self-interest and faced a brutal reality for the common good.

The reality put volunteers at a disadvantage from the start, with many without military training, and provided with exceptionally little. With the International Brigades, just one part of many groups fighting together in an uneasy alliance for the Republican cause, leadership was haphazard, as was any type of planning, along with weapons and gear given. While many volunteers were Communists, those in power among the forces also had to battle against other leaders from other groups. It meant that those on the ground never genuinely formed a coherent group, unlike the united forces under Franco. The massive battles undertaken by British forces, such as Madrid, Ebro, Brunete and Jarama, were bloody affairs littered with an enormous death toll. Just the struggle alone within the medical divisions was horrific as they fought to save the lives of young men, whose cause became increasingly hard to identity. Fighting fascism is a broad notion, to be romanticised as men, gun in hand, throw themselves at the enemy, but Baxell does not subscribe to this notion. The author gives a more realistic and honest account of war, where individuals are convinced of one thing at home, and struggle when faced with the gruesome battles in Spain. Some volunteers were hopelessly inadequate for the war in Spain, due to age or experience, and some were there for the wrong reasons.

Unlikely Warriors doesn’t just cover what happened in Spain. The book explains how these volunteers suffered, and many were lost, but those who survived considered their fight to be one of the greatest moments in their lives. Many went home with little or no regrets. The May Day battles in Barcelona are well covered in the book, explaining how the communist sympathisers fought enemies on all sides. When international volunteers were all ordered out of Spain in late 1938, dreams of these men being able to live in Spain as citizens were not realised until long after Franco’s death. Tales of men held prisoner are told with clarity, showing what many volunteers endured through their time on the peninsula. While British men went home once their battalions got disbanded, they struggled to enlist to serve in WWII and some nationalities were either imprisoned or stripped of their home country citizenship. Their battles did not win the war, just as Europe fell into a state which allowed evil to flourish.

Baxell has created a book where those new to the subject can learn and understand, but at the same time, give more knowledgeable readers a more personal and vulnerable perspective to the battles. Many books on the war can read as stiff or academic, but Baxell has created a marvellous account which humanises but does not romanticise the role of international volunteers in a complex war. The book breaks down the struggles in Spain, to give a realistic account of what life was like for those who sacrificed for a cause which did not succeed in victory. Unlikely Warriors is a must-read for anyone interested in Spain and its recent history.

Richard Baxell is a research associate at the London School of Economics and a trustee of the International Brigade Memorial Trust. Learn more about the author on his website – Richard Baxell

Purchase Unlikely Warriors on Amazon

On Wednesday 30 April, Richard Baxell will be appearing at Offside Librería bookstore in Madrid, giving a presentation on his work from 8pm.

Book covers and blurb via Amazon

Valencia Photos of the Month: The Valencian Gate Series – Torres de Quart and ‘El Palleter’

Torres de Quart, the Quart towers, or Portal (gate/door) Quart, (spelled Quart in valenciano, Cuart in español) is one of four grande portals, part of the thirteen gates which circled Valencia city when it was walled between the 14th to 19th centuries. Torres de Quart was named after Calle de Quart, the street which led out towards Castilla in inland Spain. Each of the thirteen gates around the city had its own function, flanked by the four grande portals – Torres de Serranos, the king of the gates (still standing, but I’ll save that one for another day) leading people over the river from the north,  Puerta del Mar which faced the sea in the east, San Vicente in the south (where the bullring now stands), and Torres de Quart was the western main entry to the city, and Valencia’s protector from enemies. And protect Valencia it did.

Built between 1441 and 1460 in a gothic military style, to imitate the Arc de Triomphe in Naples (and later becoming the model for the smaller Portal de Nou on the Turia) after the design held out a huge invasion in the Italian city. Built in strong lime masonry, it has long been nicknamed the lime gate or door to the city, and its curved body helps to protect from anyone scaling its body. The gate sits along the main ring road around the old city of Valencia, where the wall once stood, on Calle de Guillem de Castro, and needs to be constantly maintained due to the car pollution that runs right past this beautiful structure. It is one of only two gates left standing after the great screw-up of 1865 when the city wall was pulled down, due to its unique history and excellent design which resulted in longevity. Because Calle de Quart runs all the way to the heart of the city, by the cathedral, the gate has seen its share of battles.

When the French attempted to invade Valencia during the War of Independence, Valencia was ready to defend itself. On May 23, 1808, as Madrid and other cities had already fallen to the French, a man named Vicente Doménech (nicknamed The Palleter) started a revolution. Valencia decided to take up arms and defend their own city in defense of Spain itself. In Plaza Panses (now Plaza Compañia, behind the mighty La Lonja), as people gathered to read the papers and buy bread, Doménech cried “Yo, Vicent Doménech, un pobre palleter, li declare la guerra a Napoleó. ¡Vixca Ferran VII i mort als traïdors!” (I, Vicent Doménech, poor baker though I may be, hereby declare war on Napoleon. Long live Ferdinand VII, and death to traitors!) 

The French sent around 9,000 soldiers to ‘reclaim’ Valencia, but weren’t ready for the revolution behind the Valencian walls. With 20,000 men in the city, and another 7,000 outside the walls, when battle commenced on June 26, Valencia was able to defend themselves. The first battle took place four miles south from the city gates, and the Spanish were quick to defeat the invaders. The French attacked again on June 27, at the San José gate entrance and at the monstrous Torres de Quart on the west side of the city, which still has the cannonball-hole battle scars today, as she defended her city against the French. After a quick retreat, the French came back on June 28, and attacked Torres de Quart a second time, along with the smaller San José and San Lucia portals on the west side of the city, and were again defeated by the city’s walled and gated defenses lined with soldiers ready to fire. This caused a full retreat as the French moved west back towards Madrid with no success, and the Valencia region never succumbed to the French invasion in Spain. Valencia lost around 300 men, with around 800 more injured, and marked a turning point in the French onslaught. Vicente Doménech,  the leader of the crusade to Valencian independence against the French, was killed before the 28 June victory, although his final fate is disputed, and has a statue in his honour next to Torres de Quart (see photos).

Like her still-standing sister, Torres de Serranos, Torres de Quart also served as a prison, with its arch-way back filled in to house prisoners, most often female prisoners, from 1585 until 1887. Torres de Quart also saw a number of battles in the then-Spanish capital during the Spanish Civil War (see photos), but received very little damage. The gate underwent restoration in the 1950’s, and again in 1976 – 1982, when the top battlements were revived, as damage from the 1808 siege was still evident. The Torres de Quart received over 130 major wounds from the French and most remain. The early 1980’s also saw side stairs replaced for better access and 2007 saw another overhaul for tourists to enter the towers.

Torres de Quart was named a National Monument of Spanish historical heritage in 1931, and is regularly maintained to preserve her beauty. With its strong body still standing tall, anyone can enter the gate for free, Tuesday to Sunday, and is an absolute must-see. While many tourists flock up Torres de Serranos (with good reason), Torres de Quart is just as beautiful and far less crowded.

  Historical photos (collected by Juan Antonio Soler Aces) Click on the images to open slideshow.

Modern photographs –

Vicent Doménech ‘El Palleter’ –

El Palleter’s great speech was immortalised by the incredible Valencian artist Joaquín Sorolla y Bastida. (Artwork from Wikipedia). Behind the statue is the only surviving piece of the Valencian Wall, impressive yet tiny.