The Age of Disenchantments

Aaron Shulman's "The Age of Disenchantments" tells the sweeping story of the Panero family, whose personal dramas became inseparable from the political and cultural upheavals of twentieth-century Spain. At the center of the narrative is Leopoldo Panero, a poet who found favor within Franco's regime, and his wife Felicidad Blanc, whose family connections and personal aspirations placed her in a complicated relationship with the authoritarian state that shaped her adult life. Their three sons, Juan Luis, Leopoldo Maria, and Michi, would go on to become writers and cultural figures in their own right, each grappling in different ways with the legacy of their parents and the broader trauma of the Spanish Civil War.

Shulman's approach is both biographical and historical, weaving together the intimate details of the Panero family's private struggles with a broader account of Spain's transition from civil war through the Franco dictatorship and into the democratic era. This dual focus is one of the book's greatest strengths. Readers gain not only a portrait of a singularly troubled family but also a window into how Spain's political trauma reverberated through generations, shaping artistic expression, mental health, and family relationships in ways that were often devastating.

The book draws heavily on the 1976 documentary "El Desencanto" (The Disenchantment), which brought the Panero family's dysfunction into public view and became a cultural touchstone in post-Franco Spain. Shulman uses this documentary as both a narrative anchor and a lens through which to examine the family's willingness, or perhaps compulsion, to expose their private anguish for public consumption. This meta-textual element adds depth to the book, as it explores not just the family's story but also how that story was constructed and consumed by Spanish society at a pivotal historical moment.

Leopoldo Maria Panero emerges as perhaps the most compelling and tragic figure in the narrative. His struggles with mental illness, his time in psychiatric institutions, and his simultaneous emergence as one of Spain's most provocative and admired poets create a portrait of genius intertwined with suffering. Shulman handles this material with sensitivity, avoiding both sensationalism and clinical detachment. The author seems genuinely invested in understanding how creativity and mental illness intersected in Leopoldo Maria's life, rather than using his struggles merely as dramatic color.

Felicidad Blanc's story, too, receives careful attention. Her own literary aspirations, subsumed for decades within her role as wife and mother, and her eventual assertion of her own voice through memoir, offer a poignant counterpoint to the more flamboyant struggles of her sons. Shulman treats her with evident respect, recognizing the particular constraints placed on women of her generation and social position within Francoist Spain.

The book's structure, moving between decades and family members, occasionally makes for complex reading, as the sheer number of significant events and personalities can be difficult to track. However, Shulman generally succeeds in maintaining narrative clarity, providing enough historical context for readers unfamiliar with Spanish twentieth-century history to follow the larger political currents shaping the family's experiences. The Spanish Civil War, Franco's dictatorship, and the eventual transition to democracy are rendered accessible without being oversimplified.

What distinguishes this book from a straightforward family biography is Shulman's evident understanding that the Paneros' story cannot be separated from Spain's own reckoning with its traumatic past. The family becomes a kind of microcosm for a nation grappling with authoritarianism, censorship, artistic freedom, and the psychological costs of political repression. This makes the book valuable not only for those interested in literary biography but also for readers seeking to understand modern Spanish history through a more intimate, human lens.

"The Age of Disenchantments" ultimately succeeds as both an engaging family saga and a thoughtful meditation on how historical trauma echoes through generations. Shulman's prose is clear and engaging, his research thorough, and his empathy for his subjects evident throughout. For readers interested in twentieth-century Spanish literature and history, or simply in the complex dynamics of a genuinely extraordinary family, this book offers substantial rewards.