Malaga Burning: An American Woman's Eyewitness Account of the Spanish Civil War

by Gamel Woolsey, N/A (Illustrator), Zalin Grant (Editor)

MALAGA BURNING-AN AMERICAN WOMAN'S EYEWITNESS ACCOUNT OF THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR is a dramatic, beautiful and moving story. Through vivid character sketches and personal observations, Woolsey describes the people caught up in the bloody conflict.

Genres: Spain, History, Spanish Civil War, Travel, Nonfiction, Biography, Memoir

204 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1939

About the author

Gamel Woolsey (May 28, 1895 – January 18, 1968) was an American poet and novelist.

Woolsey, primarily a poet, published very little in her lifetime: Middle Earth, a collection of 36 poems, came out in 1931, Death's Other Kingdom in 1939 (re-released as "Malaga Burning" in 1998 by Pythia Press) and Spanish Fairy Stories in 1944. Her Collected Poems have been published since her death. Patterns on the Sand (published by The Sundial Press in 2012) recalls her South Carolina childhood; One Way of Love, accepted by Gollancz in 1930 but suppressed at the last minute because of its sexual explicitness, was published by Virago Press in 1987. She died in Spain in 1968 of cancer, and is buried at the English Cemetery, Malaga.

(from Wikipedia)

Reviews

[Alwynne · Rating 4 out of 5]

In the early 1930s poet and novelist Gamel Woolsey and her husband writer Gerald Brenan were living in a secluded village near Malaga in the south of Spain. They were both in semi-retreat from their past, Woolsey’s difficult affair with Llewelyn Powys, Brenan’s abortive relationship with artist Dora Carrington. Part of Bloomsbury literary circles in London, although Gamel an American in the ‘wrong clothes’ was never fully accepted, they were content to live quietly in Spain growing vegetables and basking in the sun. Then the Spanish Civil War broke out and they were slowly drawn into its wake. As other ex-pats fled, Woolsey and Brennan elected to remain, and this is Woolsey’s account of their experiences. Although their sympathies were more closely aligned to the left-wing cause, they were unusual in that they were more broadly anti-violence and anti-war, pacifist by nature if not in name. This stance brought them into contact with representatives of both sides, and Woolsey writes with sensitivity about any or all who were victims of the conflict, the bombing, the sudden outbreaks of brutal revenge killings.

Woolsey’s approach to her subject is admirably lucid and insightful, she’s adept at conveying a sense of place and recreating the changing moods and atmosphere of an increasingly desperate time. There are detailed descriptions of the rhythm of village life, the complex interactions that cement a community; as well as lyrical, vivid portrayals of the landscape and the individuals she encounters, and especially, the women striving to stay afloat. Her depiction of the Spanish as a people is tinged with condescension at times but Woolsey takes great pains to confront her own failings, and if she falls into the trap of presenting stereotypes of the villagers at various points, she strives to counter these by extending her reflections to herself and the actions of others swept up in historical moments of stupendous stress, the French Revolution, the brutal treatment of German residents in wartime England.

Something which clearly preoccupies her is what would now be thought of as the psychology of crowds, she struggles to understand the feelings, the triggers that lead to mob frenzy and to support for the casual murder of anyone deemed a possible enemy. Her discussions and close friendship with Bertrand Russell, her interest in Freud may have aided her in developing frameworks for thinking through events but she’s not trying to produce a dry or systematic analysis here. She’s working on a more personal, impressionistic level, trying to reconcile her own beliefs and emotional responses with what she sees around her, to find a way to sustain a sense of balance and compassion in the face of daily horrors and increasing trauma. She’s unsettled and intrigued by the by-products of this kind of human catastrophe, such as the role of certain forms of story-telling,

“I was told a melodramatic story about a hunt for a Fascista which had taken place near us…I was struck by what I can only call a look of dreamy blood-lust upon their faces as they told such stories. I realised then, what I realised even more clearly later at Gibraltar, listening to the English talk of atrocities, what atrocity stories really are: they are the pornography of violence. The dreamy lustful look that accompanies them, the full enjoyment of horror (especially noticeable in respectable elderly Englishmen speaking of the rape or torture of naked nuns: it is significant that they are always naked in such stories), show only too plainly their erotic source.”

I haven’t experienced anything as devastating as war but I recognised aspects of the issues and dilemmas Woolsey’s grappling with here: dealing with a world that’s changed in an instant; despairing at the popularity of destructive attitudes previously unthinkable; the spread of conspiracy theories, false news; dealing with the relentless grind of continuing uncertainty and loss; being surrounded by growing numbers of individuals in the grip of, at best, a kind of stoic melancholy; and trying to construct a rational response or explanation. I imagine that might make this sound like a deeply pessimistic or depressing account but Woolsey’s personality, her excellent prose, her intellectual curiosity, her obvious love for her local community prevents that.

rating: 4.5

[Ronald Morton · Rating 4 out of 5]

William James had a theory that the subconsciousness of all men might flow together at a level far below ordinary knowledge and thought, so that we are all aware in the depths of our minds of the same things though we do not ordinarily realise it. Freud in one or two passages shows that he has had the same idea, as when he suggests that the dreams of people living in the same house might affect each other. And I think that at that time in Spain, I, and a great many other people, somehow knew that something was coming in Spain far worse than anything which we yet expected with our conscious minds. I could feel something ominous in the air that sometimes frightened me.

An actually lovely book about the Spanish Civil war. It's an autobiographical account of Woolsey's time in Spain - she and her husband lived there for a prolonged period of time, her husband being from there - leading up to the outbreak of the war, and cataloging their experiences during the war. Woolsey's prose is exquisite, capturing the idyllic languor of the Spanish countryside; even in her recantation of her wartime experiences their is an exuberance and brightness of language, mixed with the warmth with which she writes about Spain, that manages to contradict the brutality of the war while not undermining her prose.

She writes in depth about the Spanish, both prior to and during the war, and it exudes a gentle empathy for the people, most especially for the poor. She presents a nuanced examination of the Spanish psyche, deftly balancing the positions of both sides of the war, almost always managing to simply side with Spain, as seemingly impossible as that may be.

A lovely book; it does have its moments of sadness and wartime horror, but Woolsey's prose is luminous throughout. I need to track down her other stuff, though a brief glance last week showed that most of it is out of print and pricey. Hopefully I was wrong in that observation.

[G.G. · Rating 4 out of 5]

This deeply felt memoir of the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War in 1936 describes a place and time so distant that it might almost be another planet. The author, Gamel Woolsey, and her husband, Gerald Brennan, lived in the village of Churriana, “close to what is now the Malaga Airport,” as Frances Partridge—who visited them there—notes in her introduction. What the pair do for a living is entirely unclear:

It was lovely to have nothing in the world to do, and simply bask in the day like lizards, in the shade of the high white garden wall. …in hot weather nothing is so lovely as a big Andalusian house, gay with bright flowers, fresh, immaculate and cool in any weather. (p. 4)

The couple are cared for by a family of servants: Enrique the gardener, his mother Maria, her widowed daughter Pilar, and Pilar’s daughter Mariquilla, all of whom are described with great sympathy, “their relation to us not one of monthly payments, of hiring and giving notice. We could as soon have given our own children notice.” (p. 9)

The first chapter is a lyrical description of the last day of peace before the war begins. They decide to stay, feeling “that we were perfectly safe among these dangerous ‘Reds’ the Foreign Office was painting in such lurid colours” (p. 50), and for a time they are safe enough that even frightened villagers come to take refuge with them. But, Woolsey observes, “after the bombing began…the atmosphere [grew] steadily worse.

It is inevitable where open towns are bombed. Hate is the other side of fear. And it was horrible to see and feel this wave of hate-fear rising around us like a menacing sea. The talk of the villagers came to be more and more about Fascistas, and the Fascista was a purely mythical creature of unimaginable wickedness (twin brother I should think to the ‘Red’ of some of our daily papers) always mentioned in a special tone of horror. (p. 125)

Woolsey’s account of the beginning of the Civil War is at the same time a love letter to the Spain and the Spanish people she had known. One example:

A great deal of the ‘character’ for which the Spanish are famous I think is found most of all in its older women. They have suffered and resigned themselves, worked beyond their strength, spent themselves for others. This patient stoicism, a stoicism that is not hard, but gentle and quietly resigned, accepting life as it is with all its ills and griefs with dignity and without complaint, is one of the most remarkable of Spanish characteristics. And it has been seen a thousand times everywhere in Spain during this war. (p. 151)

Eventually, almost without intending to, Woolsey and Brennan leave Spain, or at least they go to Gibraltar “to get some money and find out what was happening” (p. 190) and then they are unable to return. Gibraltar is ghastly, full of English people “interested in riding and tennis, in swimming and bridge”; they “combined this essential indifference and ignorance with the most violent prejudices and a perfect revelling in preposterous atrocity stories.” (p. 194).

Earlier, Woolsey has observed that what atrocity stories really are is “the pornography of violence”:

The dreamy lustful look that accompanies them, the full enjoyment of horror (especially noticeable in respectable elderly Englishmen speaking of the rape or torture of naked nuns: it is significant that they are always naked in such stories), show only too plainly their erotic source. (p. 126)

Woolsey’s is a quiet voice but no less determined for that.
I read the 1988 Virago reprint (not listed on Goodreads).

[Jason · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have so much respect for Eland for finding this novel and for publishing it.  It has spent most of it's life hidden away and barely read by anybody, which is such a shame as this is such a wonderful little book, Gamel's prose is so moving at times, she shows a side of war that tends to get ignored.

Gamel and her husband Gerald are living just outside Malaga in the 1930's when the Spanish civil war kicks off.  There have been rumours that the Spanish workers aren't happy and that things could go wrong soon, but their Englishness can't see it affecting them.  Soon Malaga is burning and most of the English residents are running away.  Gamel decides to stay, partly because she romanticises war and partly because they have a big house and with them still there it could be put to use to help the Spaniards. 

Gamel then witnesses some horrific scenes, she sees the evil of war start to appear in the eyes people she knew to be sensible, the suspicion eating at the villagers and it makes them do shameful things.  Gamel and Gerald do what they can, sheltering terrified locals as planes drop bombs every night, fighting to save the innocents who have been taken to prison only to be murdered in revenge after the next airstrike.  At one point they take in a family and hide them from the murder gangs in a priest hole, putting themselves at great risk.  As the book goes on you can see the strain of the conflict, it is no longer a romantic thing and the chapter on Juan was heart-breaking to read, her love for the people of Spain really shows at this point.  You can see that she was most definitely suffering from PTSD but this still doesn't stop her love.

Eland have released some very good books that I've been lucky enough to read and this one has to be my favourite.  Wonderful writing, I only wish her writing had been more successful so that she would have written more.

Blog review: https://felcherman.wordpress.com/2020...

[Paul Read · Rating 4 out of 5]

Death´s Other Kindom by Gamel Woolsey was not - as popular myth speculates - referring to living in Spain under the leadership of the Partido Popular - but rather the Spain of 1936 during the immediate aftermath of the July Military Uprising.

Written from the relative safety of their Churriana Cortijo (In Malaga) Woolsey relates how she and her husband - Hispanist Gerald Brenan (of South of Granada fame) - lived those first few tumultuous months of the civil war, before the invasion by Nationalist forces and the infamous exodus of the city of Malaga.
What gives the book its unique perspective for anyone interested in this revolutionary period of Spanish history, is that unlike other tales of the civil war by foreigners (Orwell, Lee, Bethune) Woolsey treads what she believes is a fine line between the Republicans and Nationalists. She exhibits both sympathy and outrage with her village - her 'pueblo' - as she wobbles precariously on the shaky fence of impartiality.

One unexpected outcome of this posturing, is her lucid depiction of the sadness, frustration and futility of wars as it affects all men irrespective of sides, perhaps referencing her chosen title here - taken as it is from T.S. Eliots poem: The Hollow Men.

As her 'pueblo' attempts to protect, defend, and finally bring to trial their own people, her humanity and compassion guides her though the successive waves of violence and vengeance in each chapter. Whilst the forces of rebellion made ground, allegiances become more fluid, or - as often the case as pressure mounts - set in stone as the war stumbles blindly forward.

It is a moving and intimate portrayal of those crucial few months of 1936, and unlike almost any other account of the war in English, it is told perceptively from someone who not only saw the scars opening on the horizon in front of her, but engaged with those who lives she was connected to, and whose lives were thrown so dramatically into turmoil by such events.

Gamel Woolsey returned again to Spain after the Civil War with Gerald Brenan, but her life as a writer and spiritual Hispanist would be forever eclipsed by the success of her husbands more analytical writings on the origins of conflict and his time living in the Alpujarras. (The Spanish Labyrinth and South of Granada).

[Suzanne · Rating 4 out of 5]

Reading this, I often thought of the violence stirred up at rallies for American presidential candidate Donald Trump, and of the current divisions in the United States along party lines, ethnic lines, and class lines. What I mean to say is that although this book has been belittled and dismissed by various men over the years, including Woolsey's husband Gerald Brenan, Death's Other Kingdom has lasting value.

Woolsey's writes of a brief period in 1936 leading up to the Spanish Civil War. She and her writer husband, expatriates both, were living in a house just outside of Malaga. Although Gamel was brought up in a gentried family in South Carolina, both she and her British husband were referred to as the English. They had a warm non-partisan relatioinship with their neighbors, whom Woolsey writes about movingly in these pages. For a while they harbored a friend who was wanted by the Terrorists. Their struggle to protect him and get him and his family to safety is one running narrative in the book. Along with her personal observations about the political climate, Woolsey conveys her love for the people and the land. This is a beautiful little book.

[Susan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Beautifully, even poetically written, this book was written early in the Spanish Civil War by an American expat living near Malaga with her husband, Gerald Brennan. It's really more about Woolsey's experience of a small part of Spain as seen by an American/British privileged couple; Woolsey makes no excuses for her privilege - it's something she realistically takes for granted. Having read a lot about the Civil War, this is probably the only book I've read where the author doesn't really take sides between the Nationalists and the Republicans (which I find difficult to understand,). It definitely gives the reader a sense of country life in and near Malaga just as the civil war was breaking out. Her descriptions of the experience of being bombed will stay with me.

[Charles · Rating 4 out of 5]

Gamel Woolsey was a US-born poet who moved to England, fell in love with Gerald Brenan and moved, with him, to Spain, just in time for the Spanish Civil War. This book is an account of her experience during the war. It's unpartisan, thoughtful and often very moving. At one point she says, of a man who was in danger of being arrested and shot: "he was ceasing to be a man like other men, as an ox in the hands of the butcher ceases to be an ox for the herd."

I recommend this book highly, though you may have difficulty finding it. (No you won't. It's been reprinted by Eland.)

[Rachel Bremer · Rating 3 out of 5]

Beautifully written and helped me understand the nuance of the Spanish civil war, which I’ve been struggling with for a while...

[Linda · Rating 4 out of 5]

Living in a village outside Malaga at the opening of the Spanish Civil War, Gamel relates how village life pretty much remains unchanged until “the pornography of violence” causes the death of a kindly baker and persecution of a poor, aristocratic family that the author and her husband successfully hide and then spirit out of the country. Life sours after that and even the papers advertise munitions which further poisons the atmosphere. The couple leave and do not return although PTSD shows in their response to planes and house fires. No sides are overtly taken - this is far more unbiased than anything Hemingway wrote. And the Afterword really needs to be read as well.

[Les Dangerfield · Rating 3 out of 5]

American born Woolsey later moved to England was on the fringes of the Bloomsbury set, who thought her a bore - which was probably a positive statement about her! She moved to southern Spain in the early 30s and within a few years found herself caught up in the beginnings of the Spanish civil war. The book recounts her experiences there. To quote the writer of the afterword 'It is one of the few records of the (Spanish civil) war which is fuelled more by a love of Spain and its people than by any firm ideological standpoint.' Generally well written - a bit episodic.

[Paul Graham · Rating 4 out of 5]

An extremely interesting account of the beginning of the Spanish Civil War set in particular in Malaga and a nearby village. Of particular interest as I have been to Yegin in the Alpujaras and seen the house where they both lived for a time, and read her husband's (Gerald Brennan) excellent book Spanish Labyrinth.

[Elizabeth]

A fascinating personal experience of the early battles of the Spanish Civil War by Gerald Brenan’s wife. They lived as English expats in a small village near Malaga and sheltered refugees in their house and garden. Her insights are rare and her hatred of war is palpable on every page.

[Pedro Pascual · Rating 3 out of 5]

Testimonio de la esposa de Brennan. Me gusta, ya que al menos da una visión más imparcial del asunto, sin tantas pasiones.

[Héctor David · Rating 4 out of 5]

Some great quotes and a very human look at the war beyond the politics. Easy read.

[Sara Ür · Rating 2 out of 5]

I give this book 2 stars only because while it is well written and I understand it is a product of its time, I find a lot of the paternalistic, classist, and ignorant observations of Woolsey (particularly in regards to how she views Spanish people, their history, and politics) disturbing. I need only refer readers to chapter eight, in which she admits the Spanish villagers terrified of bombings disgust her. Or when she says there is nothing more beautiful than self-control and good manners referring to a nobleman in contrast to her descriptions of the village people, or when she describes the war as an exciting adventure that makes her happy while locals are dying, or (to mention a last example), how only the North of Spain has the "talent" to undergo sieges, really?! I can clearly see how her origin as an upper-class, plantation-owner's daughter quite ignorant of Spainish politics at the time bleeds into the text.

[Maurice · Rating 4 out of 5]

There are many excellent reads of the Spain of yesteryear as observed through foreign eyes. Norman Lewis has written a unique account of his days in a small Spanish fishing village and several stories on his travels in 1930s Spain, Penelope Chetwode travelled through that seemingly unchanging Andalusia and Gamel Woolsey's husband Gerald Brennan of course equally brought to life those times. However, Death's Other Kingdom provides a unique view of life in a normal southern Spanish village. It is unique in that it is not a classic historical account of events in tumultuous 1930s Spain, but a story of a household, a village, characters and their customs, all set against the backdrop of that famous war that set the scene for what was to come. Often, in the immediate aftermath of conflicts, it's the political account that is sought after, but now, in her tales of a Spain that once was, Gamel Woolsey has undoubtedly written a true classic.

[Elizabeth · Rating 3 out of 5]

An immediate, eye-witness account of the beginnings of the Spanish Civil War by an American married to a Brit living happily in exile in an idyllic village in Southern Spain. Gives a real sense of the escalation of the fighting, but little context. An enjoyable read.

[Tim Stafford · Rating 4 out of 5]

A very understated memoir of the Spanish civil war, focusing on the people in a small village near Malaga and the strong emotions that swirl and grow. It seems slight, thrown off, but an undertow of feeling and conviction is very strong. In the end quite powerful.

[Gordon · Rating 4 out of 5]

Woolsey has a talent for sharing the horrible gently

[Randy Hendrickson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Read this with 'Homage to Catalonia' by Orwell.