When I paid my $6 for a new Wordsworth Classic unabridged copy of Cervantes’ Don Quixote last September, I had little idea it would utterly consume my entire reading energies for a complete two months. To be fair, my efforts have been a little haphazard, but this week I managed to finish it off; something I wasn’t able to do on my first go in the early 90’s. In fact, I don’t think I got past the first 50 pages. It surprised me that this text was translated from Spanish as long ago as 1700, Cervantes having been born in 1547 and having published it in 1605. Was I really attempting something that old? Isn’t that why I never read Shakespeare?
Within pages I was giggling away in delight, as an absolutely preposterous plot unfolded, involving a simple man who after reading one too many books about knights and chivalry, decides to go adventuring in full knight armour through Spain, five centuries too late, calling inns castles and generally leading a deluded lifestyle, which is on the whole indulged by amused onlookers. Pretty early on he gains a squire (Sancho Pancha), and declares his love for the imaginary and peerless Dulcinea del Toboso. Anything that doesn’t agree with his thinking, he declares as “guided by enchantment”, and he spends his time wanting to starve himself and bang his head on rocks as proof of his loyalty to his lady. Along the way the tiny and fat Sancho gets tossed skyward in a large rug by some hoodlums (much to his embarrassment), they attack some windmills, thinking them to be demons, and Don Quixote cries out a lot, whilst Sancho quoth’s back at him. And really, that’s about it pretty much. They’d encounter strangers, and perform deeds of chivalry in defense of lost honour; be indulged for the endless amusement they brought, and then leave and do it all again. In some ways you could read the first book and stop there, as the rest is no different. The language is extremely interesting and colourful, and I regard it as time well spent. 4 out of 5 stars.