The Kiss of the Spider Woman, a review
Henry Miller was interviewed in 1962 and said “The greatest book in the world, probably, in my opinion, is, one of the smallest books that’s ever written, and that’s that Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu. Isn’t that so? Condensed to what, how many pages? Fifty, sixty pages? What is greater, what has been more wonderful than that book? It seems to contain everything.” This applies wonderfully to Manuel Puig’s novel The Kiss of the Spider Woman. The best books, like the best people, charm us, teach us, make us question old paradigms, in short, they change us. It is this that Manuel Puig does in just less than two hundred pages. If a book can be described like a thrilling roller coaster it is this one. I consider it a must-read for those who love getting sucked in by a gripping story.
In this story of Love? Politics? Sex? All three? We get a personal look at how these all come together. The book achieves what every reader (of fiction and else) wants when they hold a new title: supreme entertainment and full immersion in a new world. In this case worlds. Let’s see why.
Love is the force that drives all, some say, like Valentin, one of the book’s main characters, who says “It is odd that one cannot be without love at all… It’s like if… the brain secreted it without end…” and in this novel everyone has their love. Arregui, rugged revolutionary, has his beliefs and his women; Molina, loves his man and the movies; and their captors, who love above all: law and order. This theme of love, of which we all know a lot or very little, soars to new heights with the masterful inclusion of academic footnotes not akin to the plot but which cast it in a new light. Puig breaks down illuminating scientific studies about human sexuality, power, and society. The reading of these findings are extremely instructive and educational.
It’s truly delightful what Puig achieves with this device by letting us see the age-old human drama play out with an unbiased understanding of what is unfolding before our eyes. The powers of great literature are mysterious and unstoppable, and so we see our own lives with more information, more education, and thus, more empathy.
Puig sets his story in Argentina’s darkest days: the years of the military dictatorship, or as it was known, el Proceso. This holocaust serves to show the innards of a rotten society, brought to its brink by those who have guns. Aided by the academic discourse we observe how the minute individual figures politically and sexually (which are one and the same as we’ll see) in the grand scheme of things.
In this dog eat dog world where seven second attention spans rule the land, we must choose our entertainment wisely. Our art must have the most bang for buck. In the short length of The Kiss of the Spider Woman we see a country’s most dire days, we’re left distraught by a head spinning plot twist, and we tour the world (Paris, New York, Acapulco) all in one show. Not much else can be asked of The Kiss. Highly recommended.
Manuel Puig, The Kiss of the Spider Woman, 1976.
