By Hope Harrington
The Cover of Like Water for Chocolate
Amazon
Laura Esquivel’s sensationalized, “feminist” novel, Like Water for Chocolate, is a sappy melodrama with half-baked female characters. The novel is a parody of a 19th century, conventional Mexican family, and the novel’s format is “a parody of [a Mexican] womens’ magazine.”(Valdes, para. 7). The story is told from the perspective of Tita, the youngest of three daughters, who is emotionally and sexually repressed by their overbearing, traditional mother, Mama Elena. The three daughters, Gertrudis, Rosaura, and Tita, are depictions of women in the Mexican feminist movement. In her own words, in an interview with Claudia Lowenstein (para. 20), Esquivel explains that she intended to create feminist characters. In reality, she created a family of uniquely and unintentionally “un-feminist” characters.
Most of the melodrama revolves around Tita, the youngest of the three daughters, and her forbidden relationship with Pedro, taboo due to her family’s tradition of the youngest daughter remaining unwed to take care of their mother until her death. Their decades-long affair has a “Romeo-and-Juliet-esq” ending when Pedro dies and Tita kills herself because she cannot bear to live without him. In reality, Tita’s entire story arc is based on physical longing for Pedro and substituting that forbidden contact with food, which she painstakingly prepares for him. Her ultimate decision to kill herself is very “un-feminist." In contrast, Esquivel intends for Tita to be a feminist character. She notes, “[Tita and Pedro’s love is] too perfect and too intense to live in this plane of existence, and so dying was a way in which they could remain together,” (Lowenstein, para. 117). It is ironic that the main character, who is meant to be a feminist icon, is just another helpless damsel.
Similarly, the story of Gertrudis, the oldest sister, is both melodramatic and “un-feminist.” She rebels against her mother, Mama Elena, by running away to work in a brothel and subsequently joining the Mexican revolutionary army, and becoming a general. In Esquivel’s words, “Gertrudis represents the first stage of feminism, breaking away, total sexual liberation, in fact a masculinization.” (Lowenstein, 20) Laura Esquivel’s attempt to paint Gertrudis as an inspiring feminist backfires terribly. Working in a brothel is not feminist in the slightest because the brothel’s purpose is to serve men sexually. Sex-work is a form of subjugation of women and perpetuates the flawed idea that women are subservient to men.
Esquivel’s inclusion of a recipe in each chapter felt forced and sappy. Further, many readers may not realize that Esquivel formatted the novel like a 19th century women’s magazine, which included an episodic story alongside recipes and articles about domestic activities (Valdes, 3). This is why the novel has twelve chapters, like a monthly magazine, and each one features a different traditional Mexican recipe. The parody may not register with a reader with an American viewpoint (Januzzi, para. 1). Someone more in tune with Mexican culture might appreciate Esquivel’s creative use of the magazine format and Mexican historical and cultural references.
Esquivel’s conflicting messages and characters are disorienting, and the novel’s “un-feminist” feminists are frustrating. While Esquivel intends for the story to be feminist, each character demonstrates her sense of self is based on her relationship with a man. A truely “feminist” Tita, when faced with Pedro’s death, could have begun a journey of self-discovery and transformation. Ending the novel with the important notion that having a relationship with a man isn’t a defining feature of a wonderful life, yet it can definitely be a part of one. Esquivel seems unaware of this irony. She intended to write a feminist novel, but wrote exactly what she was intending to parody. Tita’s tragic ending is a missed opportunity. Readers who are interested in a feminist novel should steer clear of this book. EM for effort, AM for execution.
2024-2025 Edition 1