La poésie palinodique à Rouen (1486-1550). Denis Hüe
The most appealing aspect of the book is its incorporation of relevant literary theory. Foucault is a constant presence throughout, although Derrida and Girard vie for dominance of chapter 3; unfortunately, the implied relationship between the pharmakon and the scapegoat is never made explicit. Chapter 4 is a rather diffuse assortment of many theorists, including Foucault, Bakhtin, Kristeva, and Derrida. On the whole, Cruz's study is a little uneven in its degree of successful integration of theory in terms of chronological compatibility. The use of Foucault seems strained in its insistence that sixteenth-century Spain was equivalent to Enlightenment France. The use of Bakhtin is more nuanced, as the author recognizes explicitly that "[h]owever much we may wish to read the two antithetical worlds as forming a continuous whole, we must take into account that Quevedo did not belong to Rabelais' century" (124). The lack of any sort of conclusion makes for a rather abrupt ending. What are we to make of the plight of these marginalized Others, so eloquently given a voice centuries later by a critic sensitive enough to read these picaresque narratives and hear what they're not saying? Should we all go out and join Habitat for Humanity? Ultimately I am tempted to ask of this book more than I usually ask of scholarly studies: is it as socially engaged as it might have been? Buried in the middle of the book, at the end of the third chapter, is the sentence Cruz should have used to end this masterful survey: "We postmodern critics may opt either to distance ourselves from and dismiss the social problems engaged by the picaresque novel through the picaros buffoonish acts, or to acknowledge and acquiesce to its social purpose" (115). Perhaps afraid of straying too far outside the Ivory Tower, Cruz denies to her book elsewhere any mention of the relevance it holds for our world's society. A recent issue of Newsweek contains an opinion piece titled "Charity Means You Don't Pick and Choose" (23 December 2002: 13). Its subtitle asks, "I know the arguments against giving handouts, but who am I to decide who deserves kindness?" These are the same questions as the ones being asked by Golden Age clerics, moralists, government officials, and picaresque novelists. More so perhaps than ever before, these stories have something to teach us today. HlLAIRE KALLENDORF Texas A&M University