has long been said that this novel is an accurate reflection of society in sixteenth-century Spain. And to some extent, this does seem to be true. The king of Spain, Charles I, became involved in several foreign wars, and had gone deeply into debt to German and Italian bankers in order to finance those wars. Soon the quantities of gold and silver coming from Spain's mines in the New World were being sent directly to the foreign bankers. The effects of inflation were to be seen everywhere, as were other social ills. Beggars and beggars' guilds were numerous. Men of all classes were affixing titles to their names, and refusing any work—especially any sort of manual labor—unless it suited their new "rank." The clergy was sadly in need of reform. And pardoners were—often unscrupulously—selling indulgences that granted the forgiveness of sins in return for money to fight the infidel in North Africa and the Mediterranean. All these things are to be found in Lazarillo of Tormes.

But is the book really an accurate reflection of all of Spanish society? If there were avaricious priests, and priests who had mistresses, were there none with strong moral principles? If poverty was felt so keenly by Lazarillo and others, was there no one who enjoyed a good meal? As another writer has suggested, the Spanish conquerors did not come to the New World on empty stomachs, nor was the Spanish Armada ill supplied. It is obvious, then, that while Lazarillo reflects Spanish society, it mirrors only one segment of that society. Its writer ignored uncorrupted men of generosity and high moral principles who surely existed alongside the others. So just as the chivalresque novels distorted reality upward, this novel distorts reality downward and almost invariably gives us only the negative traits of society.

An important point is the unity, or nonunity, of the book. Earliest critics of Lazarillo of Tormes saw it as a loosely formed novel of unconnected episodes whose only point of unity happened to be the little rogue who told his life story, in which he is seen as serving one master after another. Later criticism has changed that point of view, however, by pointing to such unifying factors as wine, which is used as a recurring theme throughout (Lazarillo steals it; it is used for washing his wounds; he sells it). Then there is the "initiation" in which Lazarillo's head is slammed against a stone statue of a bull. Later the blind man smashes his own head against a stone post as poetic justice is meted out. Finally, Lazarillo's mother will "lie at the side—or stay on the side of good people," and as the novel ends Lazaro decides to do the same.

Claudio Guillen, a modern critic, has noted that time is also a unifying factor in this novel. Early incidents are told in detail, and at moments of pain specific amounts of time are measured ("I felt the pain from its horns for three days"). When Lazarillo is taken in by the squire his hunger pangs become so great that he begins to count the hours. But as conditions improve for Lazarillo's stomach, he gradually forgets about the slow passage of time. In fact, time now begins to race past: four months with the pardoner, four years with the chaplain. This slow, then swift, passage of time is used by Guillen to explain the extreme brevity of some later chapters of the novel. It is a mature Lazaro, he says, who is telling the story and reflecting on his childhood. And we are really seeing the memory process of this older Lazaro who glosses over less important parts of his life and dwells on the moments that matter.

Other critics have responded to the question of "finality" in the work; that is, is Lazarillo an incomplete novel or not? Francisco Rico believes the novel is complete, and that there is a "circular" structure to it all. He notes that the novel is addressed to a certain fictional character ("You": Vuestra merced), and that Lazarillo intends to tell this character "all the details of the matter," the "matter" apparently being the questionable relations between the archpriest and Lazarillo's wife. So there is a continuity from the beginning of the work through the details of Lazarillo's life, until the last chapter ("right up to now") where the "matter" itself, alluded to previously in the Prologue, is finally given in some detail.

Another critic, Americo Castro, points out that Lazarillo of Tormes is different from other types of sixteenth century prose fiction in at least one extremely important way that points toward the modern novel. The knights of chivalresque novels and the shepherds who sighed and lamented their way through pastoral novels were flat characters with no room to grow. Not so Lazarillo. Every action, every twist of fortune makes an impression on him, forms his way of looking at the world and shapes his nature. From an innocent little boy he becomes a mischievous, then vengeful, blind man's boy. He observes the hypocrisy, avarice, false pride, materialism of his masters, and when he marries the archpriest's mistress for what he can gain, he applies all the lessons he has learned on the ladder to success— to the "height of all good fortune." Americo Castro also notes that Lazarillo of Tormes is a step toward the masterpiece of Cervantes, Don Quixote of La Mancha. As this critic said: "In addition to its intrinsic merits, the Lazarillo de Tormes is supremely important viewed in its historic perspective. In many ways it made possible the Quijote. Among other things, it offered in the intimate opposition of the squire and his servant the first outline of the duality-unity of Don Quijote and Sancho."

Style is another point of great importance to this novel, particularly in the use of conceits. Lazarillo's father, for example, "suffered persecution for righteousness' sake," a clear reference to the beatitudes. But in this case "righteousness" is the law who is punishing him for being the thief that he is. Throughout the novel we see similar plays on words: the master, who "although he was blind, enlightened me;" or the squire who tried to coax certain young ladies one morning, and whose stomach was warm, but when he discovered that his pocketbook was cold, he suffered hot-chills.

It is not surprising that sequels promptly appeared, but the writers of these unfortunately lacked the genius of the author of the original Lazarillo. An anonymous sequel appeared in 1555 with the title, The Second Part of Lazarillo of Tormes, His Fortunes and Misfortunes. Its beginning words are the same as the final ones of the first Lazarillo, but there any similarity ends. In this novel Lazaro makes friends with some Germans and his wife gives birth to a daughter. Lazaro then enlists to go on an expedition to fight the Turks, his ship sinks, and he is miraculously changed into a fish. He has many adventures in the sea, and is finally caught up in the nets of some fishermen and changes back into a man. The novel is a fantasy, and may be allegorical. The beginning is its most realistic point, and the first chapter of this novel became tacked onto the end of the first Lazarillo.

No further sequels were printed until 1620 when Juan Cortes de Tolosa's book, Lazarillo de Manzanares, was published. This novel imitates the first Lazarillo in its initial episodes, but is again far less successful than the original.

In the same year, 1620, Juan de Luna's Second Part of the Life of Lazarillo of Tormes was published in Paris. (Another edition was published simultaneously in Paris, but was marked as though printed in Zaragoza to facilitate the book's sale in Spain.) Little is definitely known about Luna. We do know that he was born in Spain—perhaps in Aragon. He apparently fled to France in 1612 as a political and religious refugee: in one of his books he refers to himself as