The Life and Adventures of Joaquin Murieta

One narrative element that becomes particularly relevant in these chapters is the novel’s shifting point of view. Though generally third-person omniscient, the narration spends extended periods of time immersed in the viewpoint either of Joaquín and his henchmen or of his pursuers and victims. For example, in Chapter 7, the perspective shifts from Reiss stealthily kidnapping Rosalie to Rosalie herself as she escapes. For most of Chapter 8, events unfold through the eyes of Ellas as he tracks Joaquín. This device serves to underline the ethical complexity of The Cycle of Racist and Anti-Racist Violence, as readers are encouraged to empathize with individuals who are in conflict with each other (and often with themselves).

The use of Ellas’s perspective is particularly notable, as it brings to the foreground certain parallels between Joaquín and his pursuer—in particular, the dynamics of Joaquín’s and Ellas’s organizations. Just as Joaquín tends to leave the most violent and morally dubious work to Three-Fingered Jack, Ellas turns a blind eye while his Cherokee mercenary henchmen commit extrajudicial murder. The narrative also devotes repeated and graphic attention to the lynching of Joaquín’s supporters—sarcastically described at one point as “the time-honored custom of choking a man to death” (119). Comparing these scenes to Joaquín’s release of Rosalie and other acts of mercy, it is far from clear which side is more “civilized.” Meanwhile, the banditti face death with a calm stoicism that lends them an air of nobility and dignity and puts their executioners to shame. Even Three-Fingered Jack shows a sporting, good-humored side when he laughingly abandons his pursuit of the mercenary who has proved himself such a worthy rider in Chapter 9. If Love and Ellas’s men share these humane qualities, they do not emerge in Ridge’s narrative, casting doubt on the racial hierarchies that would privilege them over the banditti.

The account of the abduction and subsequent release of Rosalie also touches on questions of race while developing the theme of The Redemptive Power of a Woman’s Love. Rosalie’s name closely resembles that of Joaquín’s Rosita, and like Rosita and Carmelita, Rosalie is presented in romantic, idealized terms; when Joaquín and Edward nearly come to blows, Rosalie intercedes, filling the feminine role of peacemaker and conscience. However, the final outcome for Rosalie and Edward differs vastly from the fates of their Mexican counterparts. After their brief misadventure, Rosalie and Edward enjoy a classic fairy tale ending. They are married and allowed to live the rest of their lives peacefully. Rosita and Joaquín enjoy no such good fortune.

Another element that develops Ridge’s critique of racism is the motif of disguise, which emerges once more when Joaquín successfully passes for Samuel Harrington—an episode that also shows Joaquín subverting the very judicial system that has failed him. The societal hierarchies between the educated, articulate Joaquín and the average, semi-literate white American citizen are also ironized through the inclusion of another poorly written text (the letter from Bidenger to Beatty), which symbolically thwarts rather than facilitates the administration of justice. However, this critique coincides with moments like the rather casual account of the deaths of 50 Chinese miners, indicating Ridge’s contradictory stance on racial equality. Ridge writes eloquently against the racial prejudice that has afflicted Joaquín but displays plenty of prejudice of his own when writing about other nationalities. Both the Mexican banditti and the judicial authorities seem to view Chinese lives as expendable and of scant worth.