Narrowly avoiding the priesthood by virtue of an unfortunate incident-“I horsewhipped a fellow seminarian who branded me a sodomite after I described my lurid deflowering of a servant girl”-the resonantly named Don Juan becomes a champion of sword-and-dagger action, leading a revolt against the oppressive gachupines on behalf of the noble indios and criollo rebels who have decided that Don Juan is a pretty good guy, even though he’s foppish and educated and all that, because he’s a tad on the dark side and was called El Azteca Chico, the Little Aztec, as a lad, and because he's good in a fight. Don Juan de Zavala, though a Spaniard in Mexico, finds that the other Spaniards in Mexico just plain don’t like him. There’s a certain misguided bravado to opening a historical novel with the hoary equivalent of a movie voiceover, compounded by the fact that the voiceover is voiced by a wannabe Zorro-or maybe the Cisco Kid. about the men I have killed, the women I have loved, the fortunes I have made. Answer “no” immediately if someone asks, “Would you like to know.
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