65 pages • 2 hours read
Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis, Transl. Gregory RabassaThe Posthumous Memoirs of Brás Cubas
Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 1881A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Themes
The Macabre Irony of Mortality
Content Warning: This section of the guide describes and discusses the novel’s depiction of enslavement.
Machado de Assis weaves a tapestry of themes throughout The Posthumous Memoirs of Brás Cubas, yet none is as pervasive and haunting as that of mortality. Central to this theme is the author’s choice of a deceased protagonist as the storyteller. Brás Cubas calls himself “a dead man who is a writer” (6), prioritizing the fact that he is dead over his role as narrator. This inversion serves as an important point of departure, highlighting the foundational force death has on the narrative. By making this distinction clear, the author confronts readers with a paradox: Death traditionally marks the end, the cessation of any further action or expression, yet here, it becomes the genesis of narration. The defiance of verisimilitude in having a deceased figure engaging in the act of writing—an act typically reserved for the living—introduces narrative irony to this Realist novel.
Throughout the novel, death catalyzes personal transformations, shaping characters’ familial dynamics, socioeconomic circumstances, and outlooks on life. Marcela’s trajectory shifts dramatically following the death of her former lover, leading to her eventual inheritance of a shop. Similarly, Bento’s passing ensures the continuation of his family’s wealth, which transfers to Sabina and Brás. Though death is typically considered tragic, the macabre irony is that in many cases, it can make people’s lives better. Conversely, Dona Plácida’s life takes a tumultuous turn after losing her father and first husband. These deaths thrust her into a cycle of adversity, bereft of familial support and shouldering sole responsibility for her mother and daughter. For Brás, such losses exacerbate his growing apathy toward starting a family. From beyond the grave, Brás bitterly observes the relentless cycle of time. Nature’s poignant words, echoed in Brás’s reflections, embody this sentiment: “The minute that’s coming is strong, merry, it thinks it carries eternity in itself and it carries death, and it perishes just like the other one, but time carries on” (18-19). The realization that death is inevitable compounds his despondency, amplifying his indifference toward his once-cherished yearning for family.
Instead of feeling liberated by death, Brás dismantles a romanticized notion of the afterlife, portraying death as an extension of life’s frustrations. At first, after death, he can see the world from a detached perspective, free from the delusions and expectations of the living. His philosophy allows him to embrace mortality without fear. As he ponders over his efforts from beyond the grave, however, he recognizes that the achievements he so desperately sought were meaningless. They have not brought him happiness, satisfaction, or lasting recognition, but were instead futile endeavors. Though he recognizes that with death comes freedom from social constraints, he discovers with macabre irony that he is still left with a lack of fulfillment. This philosophical introspection into what lies beyond death, rather than offering enlightenment, intensifies the bleakness of his account. Brás grapples with a sense of disillusionment, recognizing that death does not free him from life’s disappointments but instead magnifies the inherent emptiness he feels.
Memory and the Passage of Time
Machado de Assis employs time as a narrative tool, manipulating it through flashbacks and non-linear storytelling to underscore the fluid and subjective nature of memory. Through temporal shifts, the author replicates the disjointed way in which memories surface and influence the present. The fragmented narrative is not a stylistic whim but a deliberate choice, echoing the non-chronological, selective manner in which recollections imprint themselves upon consciousness. This fragmentation and uncertainty in his storytelling mirror the unreliability of memory itself. Memories are not captured in a neat sequence but emerge as fragments colored by emotions. Thus, his narrative is not a linear timeline but a mosaic of moments, emotions, reflections, and digressions.
The fluid nature of memory contributes to Brás’s unreliability as a narrator. The scattered chronology of his narrative urges readers to question the fidelity of his recollection and acknowledge that memory is not an objective archive but a subjective one, prone to distortion and influence. His admission to selective omissions in Chapters 55 and 87 highlights the subjective nature of how memory, shaped by time and personal interpretation, can be manipulated and reshaped to fit a desired narrative. By choosing what to disclose and what to conceal, Brás blurs the line between truth and subjective interpretation.
With the passage of time, Brás’s recollections become tinged with nostalgia and regret. In his account, the past is preferable to the present because it is free from the pain and disappointment that inevitably accompany life’s experiences. The narrator argues that true enjoyment can only be achieved after the passing of time and a sense of newness: “Believe me, remembering is the least evil. […] With the passing of time and the end of rapture, then, yes, then perhaps it’s possible really to enjoy, because between these two illusions, the better one is the one that’s enjoyed without pain” (13). Though admitting it is ultimately an illusion, he believes that the passage of time allows one to focus on the positive aspects of experiences. He often dwells on the past, mourning missed opportunities or romanticizing bygone moments. These reflections highlight the bittersweet nature of memory, where the longing for what once was clashes with the inevitability of the passage of time. At the same time, this tendency once again points to the unreliability of memory: The happy recollections he conveys are, as he admits, pleasant in part because they are not quite true.
The Elite’s Entitlement and Hypocrisy
Throughout his unconventional narrative, Machado de Assis unveils the deep-seated sense of entitlement within the Brazilian elite during the 19th century, epitomized by the novel’s protagonist and narrator. From an early age, Brás’s father encourages him to uphold the status he has attained for the Cubas household: “Fear obscurity, Brás, flee from the negligible. […] Don’t squander the advantages of your position, your means” (58). Bento emphasizes the continuity and enhancement of the Cubases’ elevated status in society. The validation he speaks of, being “worthy in the opinion of other men” (58), becomes a central driving force behind his own actions and what he expects from his son. By warning of the dangers of wasting the legacy he has built, Bento underlines the societal admiration and recognition he believes his family deserves. As a result, Brás spends his life yearning for “preeminence, a fine reputation, a superior position” (46), often disregarding ethics in his quest while believing himself to be deserving of the prestige his father urges him to seek.
Brás’s actions reveal his willingness to compromise his moral compass in pursuit of recognition and wealth. His detachment from the suffering of others highlights his capacity for indifference and apathy. He remains unfazed by adding to Dona Plácida’s hardships by involving her in concealing his affair with Virgília. In a rare instance of self-reflection, he becomes aware of the compromising situation he orchestrated for her, reducing her from a life of hard work and deprivation to a subservient role at the behest of his affections for Virgília. However, despite briefly acknowledging his transgressions, he quickly attempts to justify them by claiming that by manipulating Dona, he shields her from poverty, deluding himself into believing that his exploitation was justified and dismissing the detrimental effects of his actions.
In its most extreme form, Brás’s entitlement enables his callous behavior. By subjecting the enslaved servant Prudêncio to demeaning roleplay as a child, Brás shows his propensity for exploitation and cruelty, echoing broader societal injustices of his time. His self-centeredness often excuses his behavior, establishing a pattern of normalizing abuse. His distorted interpretation when seeing Prudêncio striking his own enslaved worker reflects his tendency to overlook systemic oppression, underscoring the depth of his hypocritical stance and his detachment from the consequences of his actions.
Brás’s adoption of humanitism ties into the hypocritical justifications he gives for inequality and violence. Quincas Borba’s philosophy, championing liberty while dismissing societal injustice, justifies a self-serving worldview. It dismisses the struggles of some for the betterment of the privileged few, reinforcing the notion of the inherent superiority of the elite. The discrepancy between Brás’s professed morals and his actual behavior, enabled by humanitism, serves as a powerful critique of the elite’s self-deception. As the key character in the novel, he serves as a channel for exploring the contradictions and moral failings inherent in a class that elevates itself through privilege and self-serving rationalizations. He justifies his actions by aligning with a pseudo-scientific ideology, further deepening the hypocrisy inherent to his worldview. Embracing humanitism allows him to maintain a façade of moral superiority while simultaneously upholding a system that benefits him.
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