Reviewed by: Quehaceres con Góngora Bruce R. Burningham Baena, Julio. Quehaceres con Góngora. Newark, DE: Juan de la Cuesta, 2011. 278 pp. Readers familiar with Julio Baena’s work will appreciate the sheer audacity of one of his opening moments in Quehaceres con Góngora. Comparing the Judeo-Christian God of Genesis, the Pink Floyd of Dark Side of the Moon, and the Luis de Góngora of the Soledades, Baena argues that all three of these great creators [End Page 574] share one important thing in common: all three were denied the sublime pleasure of experiencing their own creations for the first time. Citing David Gilmour, Pink Floyd’s lead guitarist, who (Baena says) once lamented that he would give anything to be able to put on a set of headphones and listen to Dark Side of the Moon for the very first time, Baena notes: “De la misma manera, Góngora fue la única persona del mundo que nunca tuvo la oportunidad de experimentar uno de los mayores placeres, una de las sensaciones más fuertes disponibles a uno de nosotros: la que se obtiene de leer la poesía de Góngora por primera vez” (9; original emphasis). From this point of departure, and building on the metaphor of headphones as an apparatus for isolating oneself from all the critical “noise” that threatens to obliterate a sublime work of art like the Soledades, Baena’s project—somewhat like that of the Spanish mystics—becomes one of being alone with Góngora (7). Nevertheless (and paradoxically), such solitude is achieved in this book by reading Góngora within a set of cultural contexts that include: early modern writers such as Cervantes and Calderón; Hispanists from Marcelino Menéndez Pelayo to Marsha Collins; cultural critics such as Theodor Adorno, Gilles Deleuze, and Jacques Derrida; and a number of other artists and musicians ranging from El Greco and Diego Velázquez to Charlie Parker and Frank Zappa. Quehaceres con Góngora is divided into four major chapters. The first of these, entitled “Quehacer primero: Góngora a solas,” represents Baena’s most extended attempt to isolate Góngora from all the “noise” that surrounds him. Glossing the Spanish mystics, Baena allegorizes the reading process as one similar to the mystics’ progression toward solitude and union with the divine “Amado.” For Baena, Góngora’s poetry is best experienced as a performance unmediated by critical commentary: “El lector profesional de Góngora, como el creador, no puede experimentar el efecto de lo que lee. El creador nunca pudo; el lector professional ya no puede” (10; original emphasis). By tracing the history of Góngora reception and criticism precisely so that he can strip it away, Baena finally arrives at his desired moment of solitude with the Soledades: “me gusta la edición de Góngora de Foulché-Delbosc por la misma razón que me gusta la de la Carriera, de la Biblioteca Castro: porque me dejan solo con Góngora . . . ; porque me dejan en mi alcoba sin interrupciones” (12). Baena ultimately admits, however, that such solitude is fundamentally impossible: “Yo en este capítulo, en este primer quehacer con Góngora, he planteado un imposible: una segunda primera vez” (67). Nevertheless, he says, he can attempt to approach such a “second first time” by putting on his headphones (by which he means reading the Castro edition) in order to “listen” to Góngora within what he calls “la utopía de tal silencio” (68). Baena begins his second chapter, “Quehacer segundo: La soledad en construcción,” by noting that, in attempting to read Góngora with his metaphoric headphones securely in place, he is still trying to “have it both ways” (69; original English and emphasis). This caveat leads him into an extended meditation on the constructedness of solitude in Góngora’s works. Once again, glossing both the Spanish mystics and contemporary critics, he focuses his attention on the Soledades in order to make two interrelated points. First, in referencing what he calls the plurality of both “zero” and “solo” in Góngora’s poetry, Baena argues that Góngora did not write an unfinished series...
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