Caught live on camera (you can see it here), the attempted
coup began in dramatic fashion. After making his presence known, Tejero
ordered the deputies to ‘Get down on the floor’. However, the Deputy Prime
Minister, General Manuel Gutierrez Mellado, refused to obey the command. Soon he is confronted by some of the guards, and then, almost instantaneously, the dynamic changes completely when others fire their weapons. Terrified, all
the deputies fall to the floor, all that is except for three men: the Prime Minister
Adolfo Suarez, the Deputy Prime Minister, and Santiago Carrillo, the leader of
the newly legalised communist party.
It is this moment that Cercas explores in detail. Part
microhistory, part investigation into post-Franco Spain, The Anatomy
of a Moment is an utterly absorbing tale which eludes categorisation.
Undoubtedly this has something to do with Cercas’
background. A novelist by trade, here Cercas has written (largely) a non-fiction
book. This means that The Anatomy of a Moment has a different feel from most
other works of history.
Most obviously, it reads differently. Yet, it’s not just the sentence
structure that is unfamiliar. Normally in non-fiction writing, participants are
‘actors’; agents, who instigate, shape, or take part in an event. In The
Anatomy of a Moment, however, we are presented with a series of characters; rounded
individuals who come to embody a certain element
of Spanish society.
This means that Cercas spends less time discussing deeds,
and more time probing the psyches of those involved. At once, these characters
represent themselves, their communities, and the particular notion of ‘Spain’
that they and their communities wish to realise.
This also means that not all of Cercas’ analysis is factual,
and that it can be unconvincing at times. For instance, take this passage
recounting a mid-coup conversation between General Armada (the political leader
of the coup, who longs to be Prime Minister), and General Milans (the military
leader of the coup, who wants to dismantle the democracy Suarez has fostered):
‘So
Armada accepts Milans’ proposition [his suggestion was for Armada
to go to the Parliament to negotiate the release of the deputies, and to form a
unity government that would end the crisis],
but, in order not to reveal his complicity with the rebel general before the
generals who surround him at Army General Headquarters...publically he rejects
it at first: as if the ambition to be Prime Minister has never entered his mind
and he’d never spoken of it with Milans, he displays surprise at the idea and
rejects it nosily, gesticulating, posing almost insuperable objections and scruples,
then, slowly, sinuously, he pretends to give in to Milans’ pressure, he
pretends to find himself convinced by his arguments, he pretends to understand
that there is no other acceptable way out for Milans...and finally he ends up
declaring himself ready to make this sacrifice for the King and for Spain
demanded of him at this momentous hour for the nation.’
My problem here is that Armada’s actions are explained as if
he were a character from a novel (indeed this passage reads as if it were from
a novel), and that rather than focusing on the words he uttered (note the
conversation is not quoted), Cercas attempts to deconstruct Armada’s thought
process.
While this approach is not invalid, it produces a certain
type of historical account, one which looks for answers not in documents, but
in people. This means that Cercas ends up toeing the line between fiction and
non-fiction, as often he probes motives, and dissects characters, instead of
reconstructing events, or explaining actions.
This is not to say that The Anatomy of a Moment of
inaccurate, or ‘bad’ history. I thoroughly enjoyed the book, and found it poignant at times. But, in a bid to flesh out those characters he
presents us with, Cercas frequently engages in conjecture.
One final point, as the above passage demonstrates, the book
is littered with colons and semi-colons. Add this to the fact that the
translator, Anne McLean, has remained extremely faithful to the original text,
and it’s worth pointing out that occasionally passages can prove heavy going.
But ultimately, any effort on the reader’s part is worth it.
The Anatomy of a Moment is an important and engaging book that details how democratic
Spain’s gravest crisis was also its greatest triumph.
