Matthew Restall

Rather than a traditional biography of Christopher Columbus, this is a look at the accretions of myth which have grown up around the mariner in the centuries since his death, and an examination of what motivates many of the fictions that are told about him. Why has he become such a prominent figure in regional Iberian nationalisms? Why has he alternately been held up as an aspirant for Catholic sainthood or as a crypto Jew? Why are so many modern Italian Americans so attached to a man who show more sought his fortune in Spain and turned his back on his homeland? Matthew Restall tackles these and other questions with clarity and with attention to what the primary sources can (and can't) tell us, and works to dismantle the Great Man theory of Columbus in all its forms (Columbus was neither the Heroic White Adam of the Americas, nor the uncomplicated Great Evil onto whom all moral culpability for the choices of later colonialists can be shifted). Yet, as he points out in his last chapter, those who came into this book with strong opinions about Columbus are unlikely to have had them swayed in any particular direction—Colombiana still has powerful force. show less

Restall demonstrates that the meeting between Montezuma and Cortés at Tenochtitlan in November 1519 has been falsely represented and grossly misunderstood for 500 years. Early accounts by conquistadors and royal chroniclers depicted Montezuma’s surrender, arrest and captivity at the hands of Cortés—the Conquest of Mexico abetted by the Aztec emperor’s submission to the Great Conquistador. Restall carefully debunks the ‘mythistory’ of the Conquest of Mexico then constructs a show more radically different but more credible version of events.

Restall makes his case by bringing his scholarly work to the fore. He compiles and compares a variety of accounts, revealing inventions and inconsistencies and dubious interpretations. His is not a synthesis of previous accounts but an interrogation and reassessment of the traditional narrative sources. The first printed account of the Spanish arrival in Tenochtitlan appeared in a newsletter from the presses of Jacob Fugger in Augsburg in 1521, and versions of the Conquest story published in the 21st c. reproduce the falsehoods that have accumulated since then. (The beautiful collection of color plates included here shows the presentation of the conventional narrative in various forms).

The surrender and captivity of Montezuma as depicted in the traditional sources never happened. Cortés’ own account of the meeting with Montezuma and its aftermath, described in his Second Letter to Charles V, included a speech attributed to Montezuma but invented by Cortés (who had no understanding of the complexity or subtleties of Nahuatl)—a speech that later accounts used as a kind of justification for the war against the Aztecs. The surrender speech was explained by the claim that Montezuma believed that the arrival of the Spanish had long been prophesied and anticipated, but there was no such prophecy. Restall traces the source of the prophecy fable to a 1555 Tlatelolca-Franciscan account now known as the Florentine Codex. And, rather than marking the beginning of Montezuma’s confinement by Cortés, the Meeting initiated a 235-day long interlude in the Spanish-Aztec War that Restall calls the Phony Captivity, since all evidence indicates that Montezuma continued in his position as emperor unimpeded until his murder. As for the Great Conquistador, Restall’s interrogation of the sources effectively dismantles the myth of Cortés’ exceptionalism; he did very little on his own, and was a typical conquistador who did what Spaniards of the era did (rape, pillage, enslave) all over the Americas.

Restall breaks down a wide range of myths perpetuated by the invented history of the Conquest of Mexico, from indigenous cannibalism and human sacrifice to the elevation of Quetzacoatl (based on the postconquest elaboration of a misunderstood Mexica tradition) and the many meanings of Malintzin (who has appeared in a variety of roles since the early 19th c). As a consequence, we are forced to see the confrontation between the Spanish and the Aztecs differently.

Restall’s original lines of investigation make for fascinating reading. He derives great insight from his consideration of the zoo-collection complex in the heart of Tenochtitlan, assembled and maintained by Montezuma during his 17-year reign. Holding mammals, birds and reptiles from throughout the region, along with featherworks, armor and weaponry, metalworked jewelry and figurines, painted scrolls and pictographs, annals and tribute lists, the collection gives us new ways of looking at the emperor, his empire and his response to the arrival of conquistadors. In addition, Restall’s account of internecine conflict among the Aztecs and the chance timing of a succession dispute in one branch of the Triple Alliance gives us a more complete understanding of how the (constantly replenished and resupplied) conquistadores prevailed. show less

I think this is an important one. I recommend reading it before reading "Fifth Sun" by Camilla Townsend. Where "Fifth Sun" is detailed about the the Nahua and Indigenous historical perspective, Restall takes a broad and comprehensive perspective. I wish I had read this book before Townsend's, I feel it would have helped me understand the environment and circumstances more clearly.
Restall has cracked my heart open, but this time it's a healing. A healing of history and memory. His research is show more extensive and well documented leaving a fourth of the book to notes, references and bibliography. Restall expertly draws not only on first person historical, and legal documents, but he also evaluates the historical record through its art, performance, and culture, giving us a grounded perspective in ideas, and the social psyche.
I am Mexican, born and raised on stolen and raped land and I have always been mystified and angry about the "conquest". Restall has given me an understanding my whole self and my ancestors can rest with.
Restall reviews the evidence and repositions conquest as war, the Spanish-Aztec war. As well, he reveals the genocidal and racist motives that undergirded that war and devastated one of the most civil and advanced societies in the Americas.
This book is literally a work of decolonial action. show less

A pretty good book. The thrust: the Maya did not predict anything special would happen in 2012, much less an apocalypse. Any apocalyptic matter in Maya religion, so the authors say, is a product of a syncretic spillover from the Catholic-Indian encounter, later puffed up by New Agers. Restall and Solari make some good points, but they make some missteps too.

For instance, like many Latin Americanists, they have a thorn in their side when it comes to Christianity, especially the Catholic show more Church (Christianity=evil; Indians=wonderful untouched, i.e. un-Western, civs). Thus they make some mistakes when it comes to analyzing and discussing Christianity. For instance, on p. 54 they call the birth of Christ an Immaculate Conception. No. Christ was a product of the Virgin Birth, Mary was the product of the Immaculate Conception. On p. 78, Vespucci's narrative, in which he encounters stormy seas and then finds the New World is not a tale of "apocalypse and redemption," it is Providence. (Do the authors really not know what apocalypse and redemption are?) On p. 79, the authors say that a parable in Luke 14 ("Parable of the Great Banquet") is about charity and not about souls and the last judgement. This stems from the liberal Christian view (the "Hippie Jesus" view I call it) that Jesus only taught a brand of proto-communism. No, it is outwardly about charity, but the greater implication is that it is about the Last Judgement. Restall and Solari claim Jesus was only talking about charity and the Franciscans turned it into a millennial prophecy. No, Jesus meant it that way. ("He who has ears, let him hear!")

On the Latin American history stage, the authors attempt to rehabilitate the last Aztec emperor Montezuma (pp. 86ff.). This is a debate that has two sides, though more modern historians, influenced by a post-colonialist need to take the sides of the good indigenes over the evil Europeans, take Montezuma's side. With the source texts we have, we can never resolve this debate, though Restall and Solari take the side of Montezuma. It is this impulse that makes the authors downplay any evidence that Maya religion, books, art, and prophecy was violent and apocalyptic at all. Thus they do note that a baktun cycle ends in 2012, but they insist the Maya did not think anything bad will happen at the end of such a cycle. A new one just starts. But there is some scanty evidence this is not the case, the world ending and being created anew could have existed in pre-Columbian Maya texts and thought.

All in all, they do make a great case that "2012ology" is bunk, but they try to make the case a bit too hard by absolving the Maya of any apocalyptic notions. In this they go too far. (Point in case, Restall and Solari insist on calling 2012ism "millennial," which is clearly a Christian concept, instead of calling it "apocalyptic," which, when divorced of the book of Revelation and used just as an adjective, could mean any violent ending.)

The book includes a great sort of annotated bibliography, but they do not cite anything in the text with footnotes or endnotes, which would have made the book grand instead of just good. show less