doña perfecta (benito pérez galdós)

Galdós is unknown in the UK I don’t think that’s an exaggeration. He’s in that bracket of being amongst Spain’s greatest modern writers, sin dudas, but in the Anglo-Saxon world I don’t remember his work ever being referenced. I was trying to think this through last night, on completing the novel. The UK is knowledgeable about French literature and Russian, perhaps the Germans get more of a look-in, but beyond those shores, there are few nineteenth century writers not writing in English who get a look-in.

It was with some trepidation that I started grappling with Galdós. What happens if the novel feels dated or irrelevant? Would a hundred years of Anglo-Saxon neglect be justified? The novel starts prosaically, with the engineer, Pepe Rey, visiting the provincial town of Orbajosa, where he is due to meet and possibly marry his cousin, Rosario, daughter of the book’s eponymous anti-heroine. It feels fairly mundane, until the narrative starts to take an unexpected and slightly gothic twist. Rey finds the whole town turning against him. Progressive Spain is confronted with the forces of regressive Catholicism. He is accused of being an atheist, thrown out of the cathedral when he visits and accosted by law suits as opportunistic town folks see him as a means of making money. Deep Spain makes a misery of his life. He would flee if it wasn’t for his newfound passion for the cousin. 

This passion is in some ways as instinctive, as primordial as the reaction of the citizens of Orbajosa to himself. As though a kernel of this superstitious, medieval way of seeing the world is boring deep into Rey’s progressive heart. In truth, Dona Perfecta is an early horror movie, which you could perhaps connect with Jordan Peele’s Get Out. We know Rey should listen to his head, but his heart is running the show. 

This makes for a sly novel which constantly takes the reader by surprise, even down to the formulation of its very final chapter. There are moments when it feels as though Galdós is veering off on a tangent, but the acuity of his representation of this cursed town is brilliantly achieved. The heartlands of Spain feel as though they could belong to another century, any time since the Moors were expelled, and Galdós steers us into these dark waters with glee.