Gabriela, Clove and Cinnamon     by Jorge Amado, Translated by James L. Taylor and W.L. Grossman Original title: Gabriela, Cravo e Canela Original language: Portuguese Country: Brazil   Published by Bard Books Pub. Date: October 1998 Format: Mass Market Paperback, 506 pages Dimensions: 1.33 x 6.90 x 4.19 in. ISBN: 0380012057 List Price: $7.99 Buy online from Amazon.co.uk for £4.57 Buy online from Amazon.com for $7.99 Published by Knopf Pub. Date: 1962 Pub. Place: USA Not available for ordering Published by Fawcett, Greenwich, Conn Pub. Date: 1964 Pub. Place: USA Not available for ordering

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‘The Colonels will go crazy over her. But don’t tell anybody that they’re not married. Every colonel’s fondest dream is to sleep with a married woman. Only, if anybody tries to sleep with his wife oh boy!’.

If a man doesn’t shoot his wife and her lover when he finds them in bed together he is run out of town in disgrace. If a man doesn’t visit the cabarets and brothels it is generally concluded that something is really wrong with him. But if a woman doesn’t remain faithful to her husband she ruins the family’s name and honour. If a kept woman has another man, she is beaten and run out of town too. If a man wants something, he’s got his henchmen. If there is a matter to discuss, both parties have their henchmen. Such is the state of affairs in Ilhéus, in southern Brazil, the cocoa capital. There is no need for complicated laws or political institutions. Things are very clearly defined in this society. It is a question of bullets not ballots.

In everything, loyalty is the key; it is what the whole social order rests on. A woman is loyal to her husband or to her lover, unless she is in a brothel, then she is loyal to her trade. A man is loyal to his friends, his friends to him; if he is not he is a foe, and not a friend. To change the social order you would have to change not only what you are loyal to, but the very meaning of loyalty and friendship. Setting his book in 1925 when the region was in rapid economic expansion, Amado drew a fascinating picture of the accompanying process of social and cultural change.

First of all imagine the plantations, the cocoa trees swaying in the wind, the sea. Men in white linen suits drinking rum and smoking cigars, playing backgammon or roulette, grabbing the behind and breasts of the woman serving as she walks by in the bar. Wives and daughters are at home obediently preparing dishes cooked in palm oil (and if they should get out of hand they are subject to a good horse-whipping). Picture tough guys, without fear of death, preserving their honour with gunplay.

Now see money and cocoa planters and exporters making an over-abundance of it. This state of affairs is more or less stable, with no-one fighting for the land anymore, as in the good old days when a man could make his fortune if he was ruthless enough. It is the start of more developed attitudes, of a shift in allegiances. Instead of gaining honour by threats and gunshots, now it is due to the one who promotes his fellow townsfolk by helping to stimulate the town’s growth and industry. The old ways eventually succumb to the new as the elite flirt with sophistication: poetry readings and literary societies, dances at the Progress Club — all have their enthusiasts.

Enter Gabriela, who smells of clove and is the colour of cinnamon. She is young, happy and free, laughs loudly and dances as she walks. She loves the simple things in life and possesses an inner state of moral innocence. She is instinctive, primitive, unaware of the expectations and pressures of civil society and mores. Her behaviour is direct and from her heart, like a child’s before it adapts to social pressures. Like a child she is uncomplicated, pure and energetic. But she is a woman, and the most sexually charged and beautiful the town has ever seen. Her beauty is not just in her physique, it extends through her hands into her food — she is the best of cooks, her seasonings are the source of happiness and bliss. As is revealed when she is hired by Nacib the bar owner to keep house and cook. Immediately, they fall in love. She with his moustache tickling her neck and his great big chest on which she rests her head at night; he with her liveliness and all the ways that it expresses itself.

But what kind of love is this? How can it be understood by the lovers themselves in this macho society? How to hold on to this happiness? Nacib grows more jealous by the day and wants to seal their relationship. Perhaps through marriage, but what are the town’s expectations for them? Would he have to make a lady of her? Force her into shoes, make her stop dancing, stop laughing, contain her passion? Actually the question is: which of our natural passions is it best to leave alone; laughter, boisterous happiness, sexual enthusiasm and which to tame with institutions and sophistry — killing to preserve one’s honour? Is Gabriela’s traditional Bahian cuisine better than the grand Chef de cuisine’s from Rio, with his European accent, his swearwords in French and his sophisticated food and sauces which no one can appreciate? Does it really make sense to sit in a hall and listen to someone talk as you struggle to keep awake, and then is it logical to heap praise on the speaker about his speech, that you neither understood nor cared for? Is it better to sit in the sun, playing with a cat, eating guavas, or to wear shoes that pinch your feet and a fine silk dress that constricts your movements? Beware of the trappings of civilisation, the author seems to be saying.

Amado, much criticised latterly for his gender politics, shows a real concern for the plight of womankind in a macho society, while dwelling too on the femininity of his female characters. What is more, in this book, Amado suggests an alternative to the system that discourages for females what it encourages for men: a certain amount of polygamy. He seems to be saying that love without possessiveness, without the need to control, is the surest way to maintain passion and happiness.

She loved many things with all her heart: the morning sun before it got too hot; white sand and the sea; circuses, carnivals, and movies; guavas and pitanga cherries; flowers, animals, cooking, walking through the streets, talking, laughing. Above all, beautiful young men; she loved to lie with them, moaning, kissing, biting, panting and coming back to life. With Mr. Nacib among others. But in this case there was something more. She liked to fall asleep in his arms and dream about the sunshine, the cat, the sand on the beach, the moon in the sky, the food to be cooked. Feeling the weight of Mr. Nacib’s leg across her. She loved him very much. Too much. She missed him. She hid behind the door to watch him when he came in at night. He would arrive very late, sometimes drunk. She wanted so much to be with him again, to have him lay his handsome head on her breast...

It was all because she went to bed with Tonico. Why should this be so important, why should it make Mr. Nacib suffer so? It didn’t take anything from her, it made her no different, she loved him just the same and couldn’t love him more. She doubted if there was another woman in the world who loved a man as much as she loved Mr. Nacib. No matter whether the woman wanted to live with the man or to lie with him, no matter whether she was his wife, his mother, his sister, his daughter, or just his woman, she couldn’t possibly love him as much as Gabriela loved Mr. Nacib. All this fuss just because he found her with another man. Dona Arminda said that Mr. Nacib would never take her back. She wanted at least to cook for him. Where would he eat? And the bar — who would prepare the snacks and appetizers? And the restaurant that was about to be opened? She wanted to cook for him at least. 375