The vision of the South American rainforest as a wilderness of rank decay, poisonous insects, and bloodthirsty ‘savages’ in the Spanish American novela de la selva has often been interpreted as a belated imitation of European travel literature. This book offers a new reading of the genre by arguing that, far from being derivative, the novela de la selva re-imagined the tropics from a Latin American perspective, redefining tropical landscape aesthetics and ethnography through parodic rewritings of European perceptions of Amazonia in fictional and factual travel writing. With particular reference to the four emblematic novels of the genre – W. H. Hudson’s Green Mansions [1904], José Eustasio Rivera’s La vorágine [1924], Rómulo Gallegos’s Canaima [1935], and Alejo Carpentier’s Los pasos perdidos [1953] – the book explores how writers throughout post-independence Latin America turned to the jungle as a locus for the contestation of both national and literary identity, harnessing the superabundant tropical vegetation and native myths and customs to forge a descriptive vocabulary which emphatically departed from the reductive categories of European travel writing. Despite being one of the most significant examples of postcolonial literature to emerge from Latin America in the twentieth century, the novela de la selva has, to date, received little critical attention: this book returns a seminal genre of Latin American literature to the centre of contemporary debates about postcolonial identity, travel writing, and imperial landscape aesthetics.

Cumandá, también titulado Un drama entre salvajes, es una novela del ecuatoriano Juan León Mera. Juan León Mera, como auténtico hijo de su país y de su tierra, revela en toda su obra una clara predilección por los temas nativos. Cumandá es un anticipo de la novela indigenista que vendrá pocos años más tarde, pues refleja ya en este libro la protesta social indígena y su venganza contra su opresor. Tres hilos temáticos conforman esta novela de Juan León Mera: el amor, el indio y la selva. El subtítulo lo advierte y la narración se perfila entre pasiones, huidas, persecuciones y sacrificios. Cumandá es una novela fundadora de la narrativa ecuatoriana, y es también heredera ejemplar de la tradición romántica latinoamericana. A su manera, le da continuidad y la reorganiza. Así el amor imposible de una india y un blanco se engarza con la figura del buen salvaje. Juntos abren el universo sublime y misterioso de la selva. No falta la intriga, tampoco asombro. En Cumandá están los ecos de esas mujeres imaginadas en María de Jorge Isaacs, en Cecilia Valdés de Cirilo Villaverde o en Amalia de José Marmol. En los cuerpos de esos personajes literarios se pergeñaban proyectos biopolíticos y programas civilizatorios. También encontramos un diálogo con los textos de los exploradores, a la vez admirados y aterrados, frente a la naturaleza americana. Se dialoga además con las crónicas del Nuevo Mundo y las Tradiciones. Esas ingeniosas reconstrucciones del pasado que Ricardo Palmallevó a su cúspide. No son menos interesantes los modos en que Juan León Mera impugna las teorías sobre la inferioridad del indio. Aquí se cuestiona a Buffon, Montesquieu, Robertson, Domingo Faustino Sarmiento o José Ingenieros. A la vez pone en jaque todas aquellas concepciones de origen roussoniano, que enarbolaban al indio como un otro deseado. Se cuestiona la idea del idea del indio como estandarte que asegura el sueño colonial de América como un lugar ideal, virgen e impoluto. Queda por decidir si Cumandá se ubica a caballo entre una corriente indianista que insiste en una imagen exótica, decorativa y folclórica del indio, y otra corriente indigenista que lo pone en el centro del escenario, le da voz y se hace eco de su complejo universo cultural. En todo caso, esta novela reúne muchas de las preguntas que acompañan y aún acompañan el devenir de Ecuador y de América Latina.

Winner of the 2020-21 AHGBI-Spanish Embassy Publication Prize In March 1999, in an effort to stave off financial collapse, the Ecuadorian government suspended all banking operations and froze all bank accounts in the country for a period of five days. This episode, the Feriado Bancario, represents the peak of the worst financial crisis in the nation's history and one which had far-reaching and long-last effects on society, politics, the economy, and cultural production. The very idea of 'Ecuador' was transformed, as Ecuador became a country marked by constant interaction with the world beyond its borders. This book explores how contemporary Ecuadorian authors are reimagining the nation following the Feriado Bancario. Starting from a rereading of Ecuador's national novel, Jorge Icaza's Huasipungo (1930), which saw the nation as rooted in the land, the book examines post-crisis fiction which offers an image of Ecuador as a transnational space. It posits that these novels - Eliécer Cárdenas' El oscuro final del Porvenir (2000), Leonardo Valencia's Kazbek (2008), Carlos Arcos' Memorias de Andrés Chiliquinga (2013), and Gabriela Alemán's Humo (2017) - both reflect and explain the new reality of Ecuador as a nation that can no longer be defined by its territory. At the same time, the book uses the Ecuadorian case to challenge the conceptualisation of Latin American literature as 'post-national' and to show how countries on the periphery of the global literary market can, from the very fact of their minoritarian position, enrich and better define World Literature.

In Constitutive Visions, Christa Olson presents the rhetorical history of republican Ecuador as punctuated by repeated arguments over national identity. Those arguments—as they advanced theories of citizenship, popular sovereignty, and republican modernity—struggled to reconcile the presence of Ecuador’s large indigenous population with the dominance of a white-mestizo minority. Even as indigenous people were excluded from civic life, images of them proliferated in speeches, periodicals, and artworks during Ecuador’s long process of nation formation. Tracing how that contradiction illuminates the textures of national-identity formation, Constitutive Visions places petitions from indigenous laborers alongside oil paintings, overlays woodblock illustrations with legislative debates, and analyzes Ecuador’s nineteen constitutions in light of landscape painting. Taken together, these juxtapositions make sense of the contradictions that sustained and unsettled the postcolonial nation-state.

First Published in 2010. Routledge is an imprint of Taylor & Francis, an informa company.