Rosaura A Las Diez

Rosa is the most enigmatic of the book’s characters since she exists on two different levels: within Camilo’s imagination and in the real world as portrayed by Marta. In her capacity as Camilo’s imaginary lover, Rosa reflects his understanding of femininity; the pink paper, elaborate handwriting, and perfume that Camilo uses to craft her letters all contribute to an extreme, almost gaudy impression of who she is. The daughters’ dubious reception of the letters—“A modern woman doesn’t write love letters. And certainly not perfumed, and on paper of that impossible shade of pink” (30)—suggests that there is something inherently inauthentic in Camilo’s construction of femininity. The Rosa of Camilo’s imagination never feels fully real to the residents of La Madrileña, even as Camilo’s dreams of her begin to consume his existence. When Rosa becomes “real” in the form of Marta, however, her existence becomes a canvas onto which the residents to project their own fantasies. Mrs. Milagros assumes she is a romantic heroine who has bravely defied an abusive father. Réguel imagines her to be a refined heiress who is incensed by how rude everyone else in the house is. In short, the fantasy that once belonged to Camilo is taken away, belonging now to everyone but him.

None of these fantasies match up with Marta’s underlying truth, however, which is revealed in the final part of the book. Her lack of education, which directly contradicts Réguel’s erudite vision of her, is conveyed by the letter’s many misspellings and grammatical errors. Mrs. Milagros’s understanding of her as a completely innocent victim is undermined by her criminal past. The truth turns out to be more complex than any of the other characters could imagine: Marta is young and afraid at the same time that she is violent and manipulative; a victim at the same time that she victimizes others. Such a stark contrast from the escapist dreams of Camilo and the others highlights their fantastical nature. Even though Camilo sees Rosa/Marta as a fantasy that bleeds into his reality, the complexity of her character shows that this is impossible.

Mrs. Milagros is the owner of Camilo’s boardinghouse, La Madrileña, and the first of the book’s unreliable narrators. She prides herself on being able to discern character and being good at keeping order, traits that are essential for running a reputable boarding house. She also sees herself as a maternal figure in Camilo’s life, telling the police inspector “I was like a mother to him, the mother who washes and irons his clothes, prepares his meals and cleans his room, gives him advice and has a kind word for him or, at times, a harsh one, but lovingly and with his interest at heart” (19). The image she presents of herself to the inspector is aimed at highlighting these positive aspects of her character, but as her mention of using harsh words with Camilo suggests, it cannot entirely conceal her more negative aspects.

Among Mrs. Milagros’s most glaring character flaws is her hypocrisy, which becomes most clear in her handling of Camilo’s affair with Rosa. On the one hand, she is highly critical of Eufrasia and her daughters for delighting in gossip about Rosa. On the other hand, she cannot contain her excitement about learning scandalous information about Camilo’s love life: “In a drawer of his wardrobe, under some undershirts, the letters glowed […] It seemed as if the only thing we wanted was to have all the envelopes opened and all the pages unfolded” (26). At the same time that she admits to participating in and even facilitating the gossip storm surrounding Camilo and Rosa, Mrs. Milagros attempts to take the moral high ground over Eufrasia, who does the very same things. Judgmentally, she tells the inspector, “​​she uses this trick of meeting the mailman so that she can fill herself in on what mail each person is receiving and from this intelligence spin out the fabric of her gossip” (21). Judgmental statements such as this one, rife with hypocrisy, reveal Mrs. Milagros’s unreliability as a narrator and encourage readers to pay careful attention to what information is truthful and what information is not.

David Réguel is the second unreliable narrator. Similar to Mrs. Milagros, he attempts to curate his image to the police inspector at the cost of providing accurate information for the murder investigation. Réguel’s voice is very distinct from Mrs. Milagros however, reflecting their different educational backgrounds, gender identities, and occupations. A full-time student, Réguel speaks in run-on sentences that are packed with obscure cultural references and convoluted metaphors. The inaccessibility of his language and references is highlighted by the fact that he has to rephrase and reexplain himself to the inspector at times.

Beneath this façade of pretentious language, however, Réguel’s core values and concerns emerge. For one, he is very preoccupied with gender roles and politics, making frequent generalizations about the natures of men and women. In one such generalizing remark, he tells the inspector “They all suffered an attack of acute romanticism, took that absurd lovers’ farewell to heart, unable to resign themselves to…Well, women are that way” (123). This tendency to reduce others’ actions to a symptom of their gender reveals a small-mindedness that contradicts his self-image as a worldly scholar.

Another of Réguel’s fixations is Camilo himself (Camilo is aware of this dynamic and frequently expresses concern to Mrs. Milagros about what Réguel is doing). In his essay “Camilo’s Closet,” Herbert J. Brant argues that this fixation is evidence of a previous romantic relationship between the two characters. Whether Réguel is Camilo’s scorned lover or malicious bully is left undetermined.