objects which are determined for him, or at least seem to be determined for him, by
the model of all chivalry. We shall call this model the mediator of desire. Chivalric existence is the imitation of Amadis in the same sense that the Christian's existence is the imitation of Christ.
In most works of fiction, the characters have desires which are simpler than Don Quixote's.
There is no mediator; there is only the subject and the object. When the "nature" of the object inspiring the passion is not sufficient to account for the desire, one must turn to the
impassioned subject. Either his "psychology" is examined or his "liberty" invoked. But desire is always spontaneous. It can always be portrayed by a simple straight line which joins
subject and object.
The straight line is present in the desire of Don Quixote, but it is not essential. The mediator
is there, above that line, radiating toward both the subject and the object. The spatial
metaphor which expresses this triple relationship is obviously the triangle. The object
changes with each adventure but the triangle remains. The barber's basin or Master Peter's
puppets replace the windmills; but Amadis is always present.
The triangle is no Gestalt . The real structures are intersubjective. They cannot be localized
anywhere; the triangle has no reality whatever; it is a systematic metaphor, systematically
pursued. Because changes in size and shape do not destroy the identity of this figure, as we
will see later, the diversity as well as the unity of the works can be simultaneously illustrated.
The purpose and limitations of this structural geometry may become clearer through a
reference to "structural models." The triangle is a model of a sort, or rather a whole family of models. But these models are not "mechanical" like those of Claude Lévi-Strauss. They
always allude to the mystery, transparent yet opaque, of human relations. All types of
structural thinking assume that human reality is intelligible;
-34-
it is a logos and, as such, it is an incipient logic , or it degrades itself into a logic. It can thus be systematized, at least up to a point, however unsystematic, irrational, and chaotic it may
appear even to those, or rather especially to those who operate the system. A basic contention
of this essay is that the great writers apprehend intuitively and concretely, through the medium of their art, if not formally, the system in which they were first imprisoned together
with their contemporaries. Literary interpretation must be systematic because it is the
continuation of literature. It should formalize implicit or already half-explicit systems. To
maintain that criticism will never be systematic is to maintain that it will never be real
knowledge. The value of a critical thought depends not on how cleverly it manages to
disguise its own systematic nature or on how many fundamental issues it manages to shirk or
to dissolve but on how much literary substance it really embraces, comprehends, and makes
articulate. The goal may be too ambitious but it is not outside the scope of literary criticism.
It is the very essence of literary criticism. Failure to reach it should be condemned, but not
the attempt. Everything else has already been done.
Don Quixote, in Cervantes's novel, is a typical example of the victim of triangular desire, but
he is far from being the only one. Next to him the most affected is his squire, Sancho Panza.
Some of Sancho's desires are not imitated, for example, those aroused by the sight of a piece
of cheese or a goatskin of wine. But Sancho has other ambitions besides filling his stomach.
Ever since he has been with Don Quixote he has been dreaming of an "island" of which he
would be governor, and he wants the title of duchess for his daughter. These desires do not
come spontaneously to a simple man like Sancho. It is Don Quixote who has put them into
his head.
This time the suggestion is not literary, but oral.
the model of all chivalry. We shall call this model the mediator of desire. Chivalric existence is the imitation of Amadis in the same sense that the Christian's existence is the imitation of Christ.
In most works of fiction, the characters have desires which are simpler than Don Quixote's.
There is no mediator; there is only the subject and the object. When the "nature" of the object inspiring the passion is not sufficient to account for the desire, one must turn to the
impassioned subject. Either his "psychology" is examined or his "liberty" invoked. But desire is always spontaneous. It can always be portrayed by a simple straight line which joins
subject and object.
The straight line is present in the desire of Don Quixote, but it is not essential. The mediator
is there, above that line, radiating toward both the subject and the object. The spatial
metaphor which expresses this triple relationship is obviously the triangle. The object
changes with each adventure but the triangle remains. The barber's basin or Master Peter's
puppets replace the windmills; but Amadis is always present.
The triangle is no Gestalt . The real structures are intersubjective. They cannot be localized
anywhere; the triangle has no reality whatever; it is a systematic metaphor, systematically
pursued. Because changes in size and shape do not destroy the identity of this figure, as we
will see later, the diversity as well as the unity of the works can be simultaneously illustrated.
The purpose and limitations of this structural geometry may become clearer through a
reference to "structural models." The triangle is a model of a sort, or rather a whole family of models. But these models are not "mechanical" like those of Claude Lévi-Strauss. They
always allude to the mystery, transparent yet opaque, of human relations. All types of
structural thinking assume that human reality is intelligible;
-34-
it is a logos and, as such, it is an incipient logic , or it degrades itself into a logic. It can thus be systematized, at least up to a point, however unsystematic, irrational, and chaotic it may
appear even to those, or rather especially to those who operate the system. A basic contention
of this essay is that the great writers apprehend intuitively and concretely, through the medium of their art, if not formally, the system in which they were first imprisoned together
with their contemporaries. Literary interpretation must be systematic because it is the
continuation of literature. It should formalize implicit or already half-explicit systems. To
maintain that criticism will never be systematic is to maintain that it will never be real
knowledge. The value of a critical thought depends not on how cleverly it manages to
disguise its own systematic nature or on how many fundamental issues it manages to shirk or
to dissolve but on how much literary substance it really embraces, comprehends, and makes
articulate. The goal may be too ambitious but it is not outside the scope of literary criticism.
It is the very essence of literary criticism. Failure to reach it should be condemned, but not
the attempt. Everything else has already been done.
Don Quixote, in Cervantes's novel, is a typical example of the victim of triangular desire, but
he is far from being the only one. Next to him the most affected is his squire, Sancho Panza.
Some of Sancho's desires are not imitated, for example, those aroused by the sight of a piece
of cheese or a goatskin of wine. But Sancho has other ambitions besides filling his stomach.
Ever since he has been with Don Quixote he has been dreaming of an "island" of which he
would be governor, and he wants the title of duchess for his daughter. These desires do not
come spontaneously to a simple man like Sancho. It is Don Quixote who has put them into
his head.
This time the suggestion is not literary, but oral.
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