Summary of Works
Efrain left home when he was a child to study in the capital, Bogota. Six years later, he returned to his beautiful hometown in the Cauca Valley, where his childhood companion Maria had grown into a beautiful and quiet girl. The young couple developed a sincere and passionate love in the picturesque pastoral living environment. Just as the lovers were immersed in the happiness of first love and looking forward to a bright future, something unfortunate happened. Maria suddenly suffered an epileptic attack due to her mother's inheritance. Because Efrain's father was worried that the excitement of love would aggravate her condition, he decided to send Efrain to London for further study. Unexpectedly, her lover's absence worsened her condition. When Efra rushed home after hearing the news, Maria had already passed away with a long-lasting regret.
Selected Works
Fifty-Three
At eleven o'clock in the evening on the 29th, I said good night to my parents and Maria, left the living room, and returned to own bedroom. Until the bell rang at one o'clock in the morning, I still didn't fall asleep. This was the first hour of a day I had been dreading for many days. The day finally came; I didn't want to fall asleep for its first moments.
After the clock struck two o'clock, I lay on the bed undressed. The side Maria gave me was crumpled by her delicate hands and soaked with her tears. The soaked handkerchief, still exuding the fragrance of her usual perfume, now rests on my pillow, absorbing the tears that flow from my eyes like an eternal spring.
Now, when I recall the scene a few days before departure, I still can’t help but burst into tears. If these tears can bring flowers to my writing when I describe all this, if my thoughts can penetrate and reveal all the hidden pain in my soul even just once, even in a moment, then these words I am about to describe will be of great help to me. For those who have shed a lot of tears, it may be beautiful and moving, but for me, it may be tragic. We cannot always revel in the pleasures of love's torments; moments of joy, like moments of pain, must eventually pass.
If humans had the ability to keep time, Maria might be able to make the moments before we parting pass more slowly. But, alas! Time, turned a deaf ear to her sobs, turned a blind eye to her tears, flew by, flew by, flew by, leaving only the promise to come back!
Two or three times a nervous tremor awoke me from the sleep which temporarily relieved my pain. When I opened my eyes and woke up, I looked around the room. I saw that no one was taking care of the room as I was preparing to pack, and it looked in a mess. It was in this room that I had looked forward to the dawn of happy days many times. I tried my best to fall asleep again and continue the sweet dream that had been interrupted, because in this way, I could see her again in my dream as beautiful and shy as I had seen her when we walked together in the first few afternoons after returning from Bogotá. to see her again in that quiet and contemplative manner, just as I had often seen her when I first poured out my heart to her. When we confessed our feelings to each other, our lips said almost nothing, but our glances and smiles contained so many words; she confided to me in a low, trembling voice her deepest secrets. The pure, virginal love hidden in the heart. As time passed, her eyes finally became less shy in front of me, allowing me to see her soul from her eyes, and at the same time allowing her to see my soul from my eyes... A burst of sobs made her cry again. I shuddered—the uncontrollable sobs that burst from her breast when we parted that night! Before five o'clock, I tried my best to restrain myself, covering up the traces left by such painful insomnia, and walked alone in the still dark corridor. Not long after, I saw the light turn on in Maria's bedroom window, and then heard Juan's voice calling Maria.
The first light of the rising sun is trying its best to disperse the dense fog in the mountains. The dense fog hangs lightly from the top of the mountain like a huge thin curtain and floats away to the plains in the distance. . To the west, on the green hillsides, stand the temples of Kali, dyed golden in the yellow morning light; at the foot of the mountain, the two villages of Ubo and Behes are like flocks of sheep gathered together, glowing with color. White.
Juan ángel brought me coffee and prepared my mount - my black horse was tied under the orange tree, trampling the grass underfoot with its hooves restlessly. Juan ángel then leaned against my door with tears in his eyes, waiting for me with boot covers and spurs in his hand; and when I put them on my feet, he burst into tears. The ground fell on my feet.
"Don't cry," I forced my voice to sound careless, "When I come back, you will grow into a man and never leave me again. After I leave, everyone will like you very much Yours."
The time has come for me to gather all my strength. My spurs echoed in the empty living room. I pushed open the door of my mother's sewing room, which was ajar, and she stood up from her chair and threw herself into my arms. She knew that if she showed pain, it would definitely make me depressed, so while she kept sobbing, she talked to me about Maria as if nothing had happened and made all kinds of good wishes to me.
Tears of parting as a family filled my mind. Emma was the last to kiss me good-bye.
After I left her arms, I looked around for something. She saw what I was thinking and pointed towards the door of the prayer room. I walked into the prayer room and saw two candles emitting yellow light on the altar. Maria was sitting on the carpet, and her white dress stood out on the carpet. When she noticed me walking in, she gave a soft cry, and then dropped her disheveled head on the chair, just like when I first came in. She just covered her face like this and stretched out her right hand to me. I knelt down half-kneeling, holding her hand and stroking it tenderly. However, when I stood up, she seemed to be afraid that I would walk away immediately and stood up suddenly. He got up, grabbed my neck, and burst into tears. At this point, my heart has almost stored all her tears.
I put my lips to her forehead... Maria shook her head tremblingly, causing her curly hair to ripple slightly. She buried her face in my arms and stretched out a hand toward the altar. Emma happened to come in at this moment. She took the limp Maria in her arms and made a pleading gesture to me to get out. I obeyed.
Sixty-three
Two months after Maria's death, on September 10th, I heard the last part of Emma's narrative, which was drawn out as long as possible. It was already night and Juan was sleeping on my lap. The little boy had picked up this habit since my return from London, perhaps because he instinctively guessed that I was trying to partially replace the caresses and motherly care Maria had given him during her lifetime.
Emma gave me the key to the cupboard which was left in the house and contained Maria's clothes and everything she had left me with special care.
The very next morning I set out for St. R. I was supposed to leave for Europe on the 18th of that month. It had already been two weeks since my father had made all the necessary arrangements for my return to Europe.
At four o'clock in the afternoon on the 12th, I said goodbye to my father. I convinced him that I wished to spend the night at Carlos's hacienda so that I could return to Cali early the next day. When my father embraced me he was holding a sealed parcel in his hand, which he handed to me and said:
"Take it to Kingston: it contains Salomon's last His last wish and the dowry he left for his daughter. If, for your sake," his voice trembled with emotion, "I made you stay away from her, perhaps this contributed to her unfortunate death... I I think you will probably forgive me...Who else can forgive me besides you?"
I responded excitedly to my father's sincere self-blame. After hearing this, my father held me tightly in his arms again. The sound of his farewell to me still echoes in my ears!
After crossing the Amame River and entering the plains, I waited for Juan ángel to catch up so that I could show him the way to the mountains. He listened to my instructions and looked at me with a frightened look; but seeing that I had turned to the right, he followed me as closely as he could. After a while, I left him far away and out of sight.
I have heard the roar of the Zabaletas River and seen the tops of the willow trees. I climbed to the top of the hill and stopped. Two years ago, it was also on such an evening - at that time, it was closely connected with my happiness, but now it is indifferent to my sorrow - it was from here that I saw the building that I was eagerly looking forward to with burning love. House lights. That was where Maria was...and now the house was closed and the surroundings were silent. At that time, our love had just sprouted, but now it has withered and despaired! There, not far from the path where the overgrown weeds were beginning to close up, was still the same broad rock on which we had sat side by side reading so many times in those happy evenings. I finally approached the garden where we had poured out our love: doves and thrushes were flapping their wings among the leaves of the orange trees, chirping softly; the gentle breeze scattered the dead leaves on the steps.
I jumped off the horse and let it go free. I didn't have the strength to knock on the door or shout out, so I sat down on the steps. How many times had Maria stood here and said good-bye to me with her kind voice and loving eyes!
After a while, it was almost completely dark. There was a sound of footsteps nearby: It was an old slave. She saw the horse I let go grazing at the end of the trough, and wanted to see who the horse's owner was. Mayo followed her with difficulty: When I saw this dog, the friend of my childhood and the close companion of my happy years, I could not help but let out a deep sigh; it stretched out its head to me, let me caress it, and licked it. He was smelling the dust on my leather boots, and then he squatted at my feet and started wailing in pain.
The old slave took the key and opened the door, and at the same time told me that Braurio and Transito had gone to the mountains. I walked into the living room and moved a few steps in. My eyes suddenly became blurry and I couldn't see anything clearly. I fell down on the sofa where Maria and I often sat side by side - it was the first time I told her It was on this sofa that I confessed my love.
When I raised my head, everything was pitch black. I pushed open the door of my mother's room, and my spurs made a sad sound in this cold room that smelled of coffins. At this time, a strange force born of pain drove me to rush to the prayer room.
I want to pray to God to return her to me...but even God refuses to show mercy and send her back to the human world! I want to go to the place where I hugged her, where I first put my lips to her forehead... to find her. The moon had risen, and its light shone through the half-open blinds. In the moonlight, I saw the only thing I could see: half of the black veil hanging from the table where Maria's coffin was placed and the remnants of the holy candle that once illuminated the altar. The answer to my sighs is deathly silence, the answer to my pain is eternal silence!
I saw a light flashing in my mother's room: Juan ángel had just put a candle on a table. I took the candle and gave him a wink to leave me alone. I held the candle and walked towards Maria's bedroom. There is a scent of her body floating inside... Her soul must be guarding her last token of love, waiting for my arrival. The crucifix was still on the table, and the withered flowers were still on the stand. The bed where she died had been left unattended, and the wine glasses still retained the color of the last few potions she had taken. I opened the cabinet, and all the scents of the days when we fell in love rushed out of the cabinet. I touched with my hands and kissed the clothes that were so familiar to me. I opened the drawer that Emma had told me about: the precious box lay inside. When the two braids, which seemed to feel my passionate kiss, were unfolded in my hands, a cry burst out from my chest, and a shadow covered my eyes.
An hour later... Oh my God! You know it. I ran all over the orchards calling her, I asked for Maria back to the leaves that had shaded us, I asked for Maria back to the wilderness, but the wilderness only echoed her name back to me. The cliffs are covered with rose trees, white night mist floats at the bottom of the vague and deep cliffs, and the river roars. I stood on the edge of the cliff, and a sinful thought suddenly stopped my tears and cooled my forehead...
Behind the rose bush, there was someone calling my name in the distance. It turned out to be Special Rancito. She came up to me, and it must have been the look on my face that frightened her, for she stood for a long time in terror. She begged me to get out of there; and my answer perhaps painfully informed her of my utter contempt for life at that moment. The poor girl whimpered and gave up her insistence for a moment. Then she pulled herself together and murmured in the bitter tone of a complaining maid:
"Don't you want to see Braurio and my son too?"
< p> "Don't cry, Trancito, forgive me," I said to her, "Where are they?"After hearing these words, she didn't even bother to wipe her tears and held on to them. One of my hands led me to the cloister of the garden, where her man was waiting. After I had embraced Braurio, Transito placed on my knees a beautiful six-month-old baby, and then he knelt at my feet, smiling at the child and looking with satisfaction at the purity with which I caressed them. The fruits of love.
Sixty-Four
In this home, I spent my childhood and the happy days of my youth; now, this is the unforgettable time I want to spend here. The last night of! Like a bird swept by a strong wind onto a scorching grassland, it tilts its wings and desperately wants to fly back to the dark forest where it was born. After the strong wind passes, it returns to the forest with its messy feathers, surrounding it. It circled around the destroyed trees, trying to find its original beloved nest. It was in this way that my depressed heart wandered around my parents' house in my sleep. The leafy orange trees and the graceful willow trees that I grew up with, how could you become so old! Roses and lilies of Maria, if you are still here, who loves you? O fragrance of the orchards in full bloom, I can no longer smell your breath! The rustling wind and the gurgling stream... I can no longer hear your voices!
It was late at night, and I was lying in my room, still tossing and turning. Except that Maria moved some things that needed to be moved when decorating the room to welcome me back, everything in the room remained as it was when I left: the last bunches of lilies that Maria had put in the vase had withered and were covered with insects. Erosion. I walked to the table and opened the packet of letters that Maria had given me before she died. Those lines of words were blurred by my tears. When I was writing so hard, I never thought that those were the last words I said to her. I unfolded the letters crumpled in her arms one by one and reread them over and over; then, while searching for Maria’s answers to each of my letters, I weaved those hopeful messages in my mind. The conversation of immortal love was interrupted by death.
I lay on the couch with Maria's braids in my hands. On this sofa, Emma listened to Maria's last instructions. The clock struck two o'clock; it was this big clock that recorded the moments of that painful night before I left home; it must also be recording the moments of the last night I spent in my parents' house.
I dreamed that Maria was my wife - this extremely pure dream was and should always be the only joy in my heart: She was wearing a soft and flowing white top, tied Wearing a blue apron, the color is as blue as a torn piece of blue sky; this apron, I have helped her fill it with flowers many times; this apron, she was always elegantly and casually tied on her delicate and lively breasts. on her waist; I have also seen her wrap her head in this apron. I saw her gently pushing open my door, trying not to let her clothes make even the slightest sound, and kneeling on the carpet in front of the sofa: with a smile on her face, looking at me affectionately, as if she was afraid that I would be Pretending to be dreaming; then, she kissed my forehead with her lips as soft as velvet: she was no longer so worried that I was teasing her; she let me smell her warm, sweet scent for a while. Fragrant breath; while I waited in vain for her lips to press against mine. She sat on the carpet, reading some of the pages scattered on the carpet, and took up one of my hands that was hanging on the pillow and put it against her cheek: She felt my hand move, and she put it on her cheek. She turned her loving eyes to me and smiled very naturally. I held her head to my chest, and she just leaned down and stared into my eyes. At the same time, I put her silky smooth braids on her forehead, and smelled it like a drunk. The scent of sweet basil flowers emanating from her body.
A shout - my own shout - broke the dream: reality jealously disturbed it, as if such a brief moment had turned into a happy century. The lights have long been extinguished; the cold wind of dawn blows in through the window; my hands are frozen, but I still hold those two braids tightly. They are the only relics of the beautiful Maria and the only reality in my dream. s things.
Sixty-five
On this day, I visited all the places that I love deeply and may never see again; in the afternoon I was preparing to leave for the city and passed by Maria's grave The parish cemetery where it is located. Juan ángel and Braurio had already gone ahead and were waiting for me there. José, his wife, and his daughters gathered around me, waiting to say goodbye. At my request, they came with me to the prayer room. We knelt down, cried, and prayed for the soul of our beloved girl in heaven. José broke the silence that followed the solemn prayer and recited a passage to the patron saint of travelers and sailors.
In the cloister, after Trancito and Lucia said goodbye to me, they sat on the ground and covered their faces and cried bitterly; Jose turned his head to one side so that I wouldn’t see his tears, and stood holding his horse. Waiting for me at the bottom of the steps; Mayo was lying on the grass just like when we set out to hunt partridges, wagging his tail and watching my every move.
I didn’t even have the strength to say one last affectionate word to Jose and his daughters; besides, even if I could speak, they might not have the strength to answer me.
After walking a few quadras away from home, before heading downhill, I stopped to look back at the lovely house and everything around it. All that remains of the happy days spent there are only memories; as for Maria, all that remains is the wreath I will lay on her grave.
At this time, Mayo came running panting and stopped on the other side of the rapids that separated us. Twice, it wanted to wade across the river, but both times it backed away. It had no choice but to squat on the lawn and bark. The cry was so sad, like a human wailing, as if it was crying out how much it loved me. It seems to be blaming me for not leaving it behind when it gets old.
An hour and a half later, I dismounted in front of a gate that looked like a garden. The garden stood alone on the plain, surrounded by a wooden fence, and was the town's mausoleum. Braurio took the horse over and saw the excitement on my face, which also affected him. He walked forward, pushed open a door, and then stopped there, no longer moving forward. I walked through clumps of weeds and bamboo and wooden crosses standing among the weeds. A few rays of the setting sun diffused through the sparse foliage of the nearby woods, painting the blackberry bushes and the foliage covering the grave with a touch of gold. I walked around a cluster of thick tamarind trees and stopped in front of a white, rain-stained pedestal. On the pedestal stood an iron cross. I walked over and saw "Maria..." written on a piece of black iron half covered with poppies.
This ghastly tomb, for me, a soul facing death, meant nothing to me. The answer given by the soliloquy of this soul that questions, curses...begs and appeals to death...is callous. I crossed my arms tightly, tears streaming down my face.
A sound of footsteps trampling on the fallen leaves made me raise my head from the pedestal: Braurio came to my side and silently handed a gift of roses and lilies to José’s daughters. He handed me the wreath he had knitted, and then stood motionless, seeming to say to me: It's time to set off. I stood up, hung the wreath on the beam on one side of the cross, leaned down and hugged the bottom of the cross, and finally said goodbye to Maria and her tomb.
I mounted the horse and Braurio held one of my hands with both hands. At this moment, a black bird fluttered over our heads and made an ominous sound that I was familiar with. The cry of the bird interrupted our farewells: the bird flew towards the iron cross and landed on the beam of the cross, flapping its wings and repeating its terrible cry.
I couldn't help but tremble all over as I galloped along the silent prairie, the vast horizon slowly disappearing into the vast night.
(Translated by Zhu Jingdong and Shen Genfa)
Appreciation
As a romantic novel, "Maria" describes the protagonist's sentimental love story and expresses their feelings towards While pursuing ideal love, it also expresses the idealistic tendency shown in European romantic novels. It is not difficult to see that the author has a warm praise of human emotions, a detailed description of the characters' inner pain, a profound expression of the author's own loneliness and melancholy, and a wonderful description of the natural scenery. This refreshing style, this new type of novel with burning emotions, unrestrained language, and magnificent imagination, brought a new breath to Latin American literature at that time. There are two main lines in the novel, one light and one dark. The so-called "bright line" is: the rose buds - the rose blooms - the rose withers. In fact, it is the ups and downs of the love between the hero Efrain and the heroine Maria. Take this line as the main line, and then gradually interpret the ups and downs of the storyline. The so-called "hidden line" is: pursuit of ideals—disillusionment of ideals—and pursuit of ideals again. This main line can be said to be the profound meaning behind the work. The male protagonist pursues the perfect love with Maria, but his ideals are eventually shattered due to various reasons. Eventually, Maria left him forever. Their love only blossomed, but did not reap any fruits. In this process of pursuing his ideal, he undoubtedly failed. However, the male protagonist is not depressed because of this. He will continue to ride forward and pursue another dream in his heart. The two main lines of light and dark are closely connected to highlight the theme of the work.
"Maria" is well-deservedly praised as a "real work of art" by later generations. First of all, the novel successfully creates the image of the heroine Maria. Maria is a Jewish girl who was born in poverty. She lost her mother at the age of three and was helplessly abandoned by her father. She was raised by the hero's father. Because of this, this pure and beautiful girl has been weak, sentimental, and depressed since she was a child, and her heart seems to be always filled with pain. This character is fully demonstrated from the beginning of the novel. Efrain left home to study in Bogota. When saying goodbye, everyone else opened their emotional gates and expressed their feelings of farewell. Only Maria waited humbly. When it was her turn to say goodbye to him, "She said goodbye in a whisper. , while pressing her rosy cheek against his face that had become cold from the first taste of pain." She could only bury her burning feelings in her heart. In just a few words, Maria's inner loneliness, sadness and pain were fully revealed. After Efrain left for London, Maria's condition worsened due to her uncontrollable longing. Her sadness became more intense and she was in a trance. Seeing the empty room and the withered flowers in the vase, I couldn't help but think of the happy meeting, the affectionate outpouring, the reluctant parting, the fervent hope, the melancholy of long separation, and the tears of sadness poured out like a fountain. All this may seem overly sentimental and negative today, but it truly reflects the inner pain, melancholy and uneasiness of the young Colombian generation in a turbulent era. No wonder that after the novel was published, it aroused strong responses among young readers, arousing deep sympathy and outcry. In the Romantic literary movement at that time, Maria, a sentimentalist image, was a new and touching literary model, marking the birth of the sentimentalist style in the Latin American Romantic movement.
The male protagonist Efrain is a kind-hearted, sincere young man who loves life and pursues his ideals. He is an ideal figure with romantic temperament. Although Efrain is also a sentimental character, the author shows more of his loyalty and pursuit of love and ideals. He loved his unfortunate cousin, and for her, he was willing to shed a lifetime of tears in exchange for her happiness for one day; Maria suffered an epileptic attack and her life was seriously threatened, but his love for her remained consistent and unwavering.
Isaacs describes the passion, lingering, persistence, and depth of the love between the hero and heroine. He does not resort to impulsive and fanatical actions, nor does he resort to the exaggerated language of impassioned characters and swearing curses. Instead, he uses a This pastoral style of writing naturally and unpretentiously reveals the inner thoughts and feelings of the characters. This is the author's success in shaping and portraying characters.
Another striking feature of the work is the sentimental atmosphere that envelopes the whole book. Whether in depicting the characters' inner activities, expressing the author's own feelings, or describing the surrounding environment and natural scenery, Isaacs reveals strong sentimental emotions everywhere. After Maria's death, Efrain asked to stay in the manor for one night. On the way, the author described it like this: "I could already hear the roar of the Zabaletas River and see the tops of the willow trees. I climbed to the top of the hill. Stop.
Two years ago, it was also on such an evening - at that time, it was closely connected with my happiness, but now it is indifferent to my sorrow - it was from here that I saw the building that I was eagerly looking forward to with burning love. The lights of the house... At that time, our love had just sprouted, but now it has withered and despaired! There, a few steps away from the path where the overgrown weeds were beginning to close up, was still the same broad rock on which we had sat side by side reading so many times in those happy evenings. I finally approached the garden where we poured out our love: pigeons and thrushes were flapping their wings in the trees, chirping quietly; the gentle breeze scattered the dead leaves on the steps. "Here, the scenery described by the author is no longer a mere foil, but has been integrated with the protagonist's inner world and closely connected with the protagonist's thoughts and feelings.
The third chapter of "Maria" A distinctive feature is the strong romanticism in the description of scenery. Romantic writers advocate describing natural scenery, expressing their feelings about nature, highlighting the emotional resonance between man and nature, and personifying the scenery. In this work, the endless mountains, the grassy slopes, the galloping horses in the night, and the thrilling scenes of tiger hunting in the dense forest. , all show people the vast and mysterious natural wonders of America, but Isaacs is not only concerned about nature itself, but he is more concerned about the people in nature. , the close friendship, and the wanderer's longing for his hometown, prove to readers that people living in the embrace of nature have an innocent appearance and heart, which creates a strong psychological description of the blending of scenes. The artistic effect.
The last feature of the work is the author's successful use of symbolic techniques. Roses have always been a symbol of love in Western literature, but they are used as skillfully and skillfully as Isaacs. A symbolic means, but it is rare. In "Maria", the rose symbolizes the love between Efrain and Maria, symbolizing the purity, sincerity and beauty of their love. The rise and fall of the rose are closely connected to them. The growth of love.
There is a rose in front of Efrain's bedroom window. "The prosperous roses come in from the window and just decorate the table"; when Efrain takes a bath, " There were "countless roses" picked by Maria floating on the water, exuding a refreshing fragrance; Efrain and Maria were among the beautiful rose bushes, immersed in the intoxicating happiness of love. When their love met When they were frustrated and threatened, "the roses in front of the window trembled tremblingly, as if they were afraid of being blown down by the ruthless wind"; when they were separated by the ocean and missed each other bitterly, the roses in the vase "had withered." , slowly shrinking back into the bottle."
Ominous birds such as crows are also commonly used symbolic devices in many literary works at home and abroad. Just as roses always accompany Efrain and Maria, The damn black bird has always been around them like a ghost, always threatening their love and foreshadowing their unfortunate fate. When Maria was critically ill, on a windy and rainy night, the black bird flew from Efrain's forehead. It passed by before; when Efra suffered misfortune at home and their love situation was not good, one night, the black bird "screamed, soared into the sky, flew over Maria's head, and swept away The light was immediately extinguished." At the end of the novel, after Efrain went to pay his respects to Maria's grave, and was about to embark on a new ideal path, the blackbird followed and flew back, stopping on the beam of the cross, "flashing its wings." , "repeating its terrible cry"
One is the ecstatic rose, the other is the creepy blackbird; one symbolizes love, and the other represents misfortune, the two repeat. The alternate appearance of land and earth constitutes Isaacs' complete artistic conception in the book "Maria", symbolizing the tragedy of the hero and heroine's life and possessing strong artistic charm. At the same time, there is another distinct content in the work: loyalty. The author spends a lot of pen and ink to focus on the close relationship between the Jose family and Efrain, as well as their respect and loyalty to Efrain. Here, the author is undoubtedly emphasizing that slaves must be 100% loyal to their masters. It can be seen from this that he still holds a positive attitude towards the existence of slavery. In fact, the abolition of slavery during the American Civil War was a progress, but it was possible that this system was still widespread in most parts of the Americas at that time. It is conceivable that it takes a long process for a progressive idea to be accepted by people, even intellectuals with progressive ideas are no exception.
Overall, the novel "Maria" can be regarded as a masterpiece in terms of language description, layout and structure.
(Fu Chuanlin)