Interview with Alba Urban Baños, Specialist in Spanish Golden Age Theatre

Alba Urban: The real question is: “Are we reading enough?”

License Creative Commons

Andreu Navarra

Alba Urban Baños, PhD in Hispanic Philology, is a leading scholar of Spain’s classical Golden Age theatre. She has notably specialised in overlooked female playwrights who are now gradually gaining recognition in emerging canons and necessary reprints. In this interview, we explore her research journey and take stock of the state of literary studies today.

Ten years have passed since you defended your doctoral thesis (Dramaturgas seglares en la España del Siglo de Oro, University of Barcelona, directed by Rosa Navarro Durán). Could you summarise its contents for us?

Ten years already! It feels like it was just yesterday… Broadly speaking, I conducted a philological analysis of works by secular female playwrights from Spanish Golden Age. I chose to focus on secular authors because religious figures, like Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz or Sor Marcela de San Félix (the daughter of Lope de Vega and actress Micaela de Luján), have been extensively studied. Moreover, the didactic nature of religious women’s works didn’t quite serve my purpose.

“My aim was to investigate whether these female playwrights adhered to the conventions of their male contemporaries or, alternatively, diverged in their approach simply by virtue of being women”

My aim was to investigate whether these female playwrights adhered to the conventions of their male contemporaries or, alternatively, diverged in their approach simply by virtue of being women. If we consider that in this period, theatre was the most effective means for an author to convey ideas or specific messages on stage to a broad and diverse audience, one might assume that these audacious women seized the opportunity to make their voices heard.

But what sort of messages would they have wanted to convey in their plays? Did they address similar themes? Could we detect a feminine perspective (rather than a feminist one) in their texts? What literary models did they follow? Did they continue the dramatic conventions of the Golden Age’s comedia nueva? As you can see, there were numerous questions, and so I set to work to answer them.

In the end, my thesis examined seven comedies by four playwrights: Valor, agravio y mujer and El conde Partinuplés by Ana Caro; La traición en la amistad by María de Zayas; Dicha y desdicha del juego y devoción de la Virgen, El muerto disimulado and La margarita del Tajo que dio nombre a Santarén by Ángela de Azevedo; and La firmeza en el ausencia by Leonor de la Cueva.

Who was Ana Caro de Mallén? Why is it so pressing to bring her work back to the spotlight?

Ana Caro de Mallén is an extraordinary figure, even among the already remarkable female playwrights of the era. Recent research by Juana Escabias reveals that Ana Caro was originally a Morisco slave, sold as a child to a Christian family who adopted her.

What stands out about Caro’s life is that she was, in the strictest sense, a professional writer, composing works on commission, including three autos sacramentales performed in Seville, for which she was paid three hundred reales each. Additionally, she is one of the few women recognised by her male contemporaries, attending various literary academies and earning the title “tenth muse” or “Sevillian Tenth Muse,” as Vélez de Guevara and others referred to her. She was treated as an equal, to the point of being included in the catalogue Varones insignes en letras naturales de la ilustrísima ciudad de Sevilla. Ana Caro is, in short, a rara avis.

“Ana Caro was originally a Morisco slave, sold as a child to a Christian family who adopted her”

Regarding the reasons her work deserves revival, I believe it is because women have been unjustly sidelined in literary history (our early literary heritage lacks female references). Her works possess a quality akin to that of Lope de Vega or Rojas Zorrilla. Furthermore, in her two extant comedies, Caro presents strong, brave, independent women who tackle challenges on their own, without a man’s assistance. Today, we’d describe her protagonists as empowered women, much like those in María de Zayas’ works.

You have also written about María de Zayas y Sotomayor, the great storyteller of our seventeenth century. What fascinates you about her?

María de Zayas is an avant la lettre “feminist”. Ana Caro shares this quality, but Zayas takes it a step further. Anyone who reads her novels will notice a distinct tone advocating for equality between men and women. For instance, in one of her works, Zayas writes:

“Why, vain legislators of the world, do you tie our hands so that we cannot take vengeance. Because of your mistaken ideas about us, you render us powerless and deny us access to pen and sword. Isn’t our soul the same as a man’s soul? If the soul is what gives courage to the body, why are we so cowardly? If you men knew that we were brave and strong, I’m sure you wouldn’t deceive us the way you do. By keeping us subject from the moment we’re born, you weaken our strength with fears about honour and our minds with exaggerated emphasis on modesty and shame. For a sword, you give us the distaff, instead of books, a sewing cushion”.

This alone warrants María de Zayas a chapter in every textbook. But there’s more. In some of her stories and her only surviving comedy, La traición en la Amistad (The Betrayal in Friendship), she implicitly defends female homosexuality.

Here, the author employs the safe haven of literary fiction to convey her views and present readers and audiences with a new social structure, one where women support one another and where sorority is genuine and effective. It’s also one where female homoeroticism is hinted at and accepted.

Now, you might be wondering, Andreu, whether María de Zayas was herself a lesbian. As you know, an author’s biography is never insignificant, helping us contextualise and interpret their works. All indications suggest that María de Zayas was indeed a lesbian. Francesc Fontanella alludes to her with a masculinised portrayal in his vejamen, depicting her with a “manly” face, a moustache, and a “sword” beneath her skirts. Additionally, Zayas, like her friend Ana Caro, was highly regarded by male contemporaries, who praised her and likened her to historic lesbian or virginal figures. Lope de Vega, for example, directly compared her to Sappho, and Alonso Castillo Solórzano referred to her as the “Sibyl of Madrid”.

Remember, we’re talking about the seventeenth century, a time when women were mere possessions in the hands of men, expected to be silent, submissive, obedient, and fertile. María de Zayas conformed to none of these expectations. We must also keep in mind the danger she would have faced if she openly identified as homosexual, as the Spanish Inquisition burned more homosexuals than witches, contrary to common belief.

“We must also keep in mind the danger she would have faced if she openly identified as homosexual, as the Spanish Inquisition burned more homosexuals than witches, contrary to common belief”

I could talk for hours about María de Zayas, but I think these insights give you a sense of her courage. Her novels were bestsellers of her time, second only to those by Cervantes, Alemán, and Quevedo.

And what about cross-dressing in Golden Age plays? What are the myths and realities of this intriguing phenomenon?

Cross-dressing was indeed a popular theatrical device in the Golden Age. Interestingly, it had a controversial edge. On the one hand, it was wildly popular with audiences, especially men, who were drawn to the sight of actresses clad in tight leggings. On the other, precisely because of this allure, the Church was quick to take a stance in an attempt to ban them, although it seems that authors and playwrights largely ignored this.

Lope de Vega himself, in Arte nuevo de hacer comedias, remarks on the popularity of cross-dressing, which allowed for remarkable characterisation and plots—noblewomen masquerading as men to avenge their honour—or comic situations stemming from misunderstandings and entanglements.

However, in reality, women weren’t disguising themselves as men in everyday life, though we know of one exception: Catalina de Erauso, a novice who fled her convent dressed as a man. After countless adventures, she joined the Spanish army in the Americas, gaining the moniker “The Second Lieutenant Nun.” Not only did King Philip IV pardon her upon discovering her true identity, but he also allowed her to continue living as a man and granted her a lifelong pension for her service to the Crown.

What has been your most exciting philological “discovery”?

My most thrilling philological find, and the one I’m most proud of, is dating Ángela de Azevedo’s El muerto disimulado to 1682, specifically between mid-July and December of that year.

“My most thrilling philological find, and the one I’m most proud of, is dating Ángela de Azevedo’s El muerto disimulado to 1682″

Before my thesis, various historical references scattered throughout the text had either been overlooked or misinterpreted. As a philologist and historian, Andreu, I’m sure you can appreciate the satisfaction I felt when I realised all these elements aligned with a particular historical event—a detail that, until then, only I had noticed. Subsequently, I learned that my research was cited and that my proposed composition date was accepted as accurate on the Real Academia de la Historia’s website in Ángela de Azevedo’s entry, written by Serena Provenzano—currently the leading authority on Azevedo.

While this might sound like vanity, the dating of a play isn’t trivial; such data help shed light on the sparse and often unreliable information available about these overlooked female authors, gradually enabling us to piece together their biographies.

If you could choose, which of these playwrights would you highlight?

I would choose two. Firstly, the most subversive one:  María de Zayas. For all the reasons I’ve already discussed and, additionally, because she is the only one who breaks with the dramatic formula of comedia nueva by ending her play without the usual marriage unions between characters—those typical happy endings found in all Golden Age comedies.

In La traición en la amistad, we find independent protagonists who are not subject to the authority of a man and, therefore, are free to resolve their problems and choose their husbands. Interestingly, these ladies join the gallants of their choice midway through the play, and none of them do so out of love, which reinforces the idea that affection is a sentiment confined to the feminine realm. Zayas was undoubtedly a rebel, and I always stand with those who dare to transgress the established norms in favour of their freedom.

In second place, and continuing with the more subversive aspects of these comedies in comparison to those written by men, I choose Ángela de Azevedo for her use of female disguise; that is, the cross-dressing of a romantic lead who will pretend to be a woman. This device, although not as widespread as male disguise, was not uncommon in a good number of Golden Age comedies, where it was employed with a clear burlesque intention.

For years, only one exception was discussed: Calderón’s Las manos blancas no ofenden, a play in which female disguise is used as part of the plot and not merely to mock the cross-dressed character. It is clear that Azevedo’s work was overlooked, in which a gentleman dressed as a woman also appears as part of the main storyline. Moreover, in this regard, the playwright surpasses Calderón by not devising humorous situations derived from female disguise. She manages to employ this resource in a truly serious manner, assimilating it to the use of male disguise in most works.

How do you view current research in your field? Is there a future for studies on our classics?

There is much yet to study and discover. Manuscripts of works once thought lost or unknown continue to emerge, not to mention the attribution problems that many works present. In this regard, new technologies are proving immensely helpful to researchers. Databases with cross-referenced information and projects such as ETSO: Stylometry Applied to the Golden Age Theatre, which utilises software to compare various texts to determine whether they share a common style, represent promising new avenues for philological studies dedicated to Golden Age theatre.

And what about secondary education? Are we reading enough theatre and universal literature?

The real question is: “Are we reading enough?” without further qualification. Those of us in education observe that reading comprehension among young people is nearly non-existent. The majority of our students struggle to fully understand even brief and simple texts, let alone tackle a non-adapted classic as we did at their age.

“The majority of our students struggle to fully understand even brief and simple texts”

Social media, the culture of immediacy, and the preference for rapid, convenient, visual, and entertaining content are what motivate them. How can we expect them to engage with a novel written decades ago when they cannot even enjoy a conventional film because, as they say, “it’s too much effort” to concentrate for more than ten minutes? The easy option is to seek out short, simple, heavily adapted works to ensure that they do not end up despising reading more than they already do. And what do we offer them? A classic? Most of the time, the answer is no.

We present them with short stories, one-act plays, or very simplistic works… anything that gets them to read. Later on, when some reach A-levels, they are confronted for the first time with the classics, which seem overwhelming to them.

From my experience, students in compulsory secondary education can not only read classics but also enjoy them. However, this requires us to approach reading in the classroom differently; it must be made interesting through dramatized readings or debates around the plot and characters. We need to find ways to make reading an excuse for students to engage and express their opinions freely, as the vast majority are eager to feel heard by their peers.

Another issue related to the time we dedicate to reading in the classroom involves the content we must cover throughout the course. It is impossible to cover everything, and often reading and literature are sidelined in favour of, for example, morphosyntax. In my view, this is a serious mistake.

What interests you today? What are you reading or researching?

I have spent the past few years immersed in quite a dark world. I am reading inquisitorial records, treatises on demonology, histories of witch hunts in Europe, accounts of possessions and exorcisms… At present, Evil is my primary interest, although from a purely theoretical and anthropological perspective, I should note. The unusual and the supernatural have always captivated me, and now I am also writing my first novel addressing these themes.

What has been the greatest joy you have experienced in teaching?

I began my teaching career at a very young age, serving as an associate lecturer at the University of Barcelona for about six years. I then spent some time teaching Spanish as a Foreign Language until, nine years ago, I found my path in secondary education. It is in secondary schools that I have experienced the greatest joys, for beyond teaching language and literature, establishing a much closer and more human relationship with students is inevitable. This allows me to assist them not only with purely academic matters but also with more personal issues.

“It is impossible to cover everything, and often reading and literature are sidelined in favour of, for example, morphosyntax. In my view, this is a serious mistake”

I fondly remember a student who arrived at the school barely able to read or write—a typical student who did nothing, understood nothing, and, out of boredom, caused disruptions in class. I helped him during break times with his reading, spoke with him, and tried to agree on minimal work standards… Anything to prevent him from giving up. However, after a couple of years, teachers noticed not only a lack of improvement but that the student in question began to associate with negative influences who manipulated him. Things looked dire until we proposed him for a curricular diversification project in a local mechanics workshop. From that moment on, the student transformed: we received constant praise from the workshop owner, who insisted he had never encountered such a hardworking, responsible, and polite young man (we thought he must be mistaken; this couldn’t possibly be the student we had sent him). Moreover, the young man began to engage in class, showing interest and effort towards earning his diploma.

Years passed, I changed schools several times, and I heard nothing more of him until just a few months ago when I ran into him. He ran towards me and gave me a big hug. I was not expecting it; given how persistent I had been with him, I thought he would want nothing more to do with me. To my surprise, he thanked me for what we had done for him, for the fact that we had not given up on him, and he explained that he was now working and studying for a degree in Automotive Engineering, and that he was doing well.

This is the true joy that teaching has brought me and continues to bring me. Now I know I made the right decision in leaving the university, a closed-off world, plagued by egos and ambitions, far removed from the humanity found in secondary schools.

___

[1] ZAYAS Y SOTOMAYOR, María de [2000] Novelas amorosas y ejemplares, (The Enchantments of Love) Julián Olivares (ed.), Madrid: Cátedra, págs. 364-365.

Source: educational EVIDENCE

Rights: Creative Commons