National Review, November 15th, 1985
In 1950, when The Labyrinth of Solitude (to which the book of the same name under review is a belated appendage) first came out, it must have seemed a national indiscretion, as if Deng Xiaponing had spoken on infant exposure or Satyajit Ray about Delhi belly. Mexican men--need I remind you--are macho. Which means, according to Octavio Paz, that they live in perpetual solitude. A hermetic tribe for whom "openness" is pur shame. The Mexican male will not confide or share or even display a knowable face. He has form-fitted a disguise--and that make-up job becomes, in time, no less real than the ...
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