This book is an origin story for the daredevil Western hero of TV and film acclaim. On the whole it’s fun and entertaining, but it’s certainly not without some devastating scenes and altogether miserable themes.

As expected the book is full of engaging adventure stories, ranging from childhood pranks to transcontinental flights and errant declarations of never-ending love that ultimately go unrequited. There’s a certain satisfaction in reading about the California and Spain of the late 18th and early 19th century - it’s an odd anti-parallel to east coast colonial history that is not well-covered in American history textbooks. But it’s also unrelentingly sad in its own way: Allende ably chronicles the steady deterioration in the quality of life for dozens of native tribes, viewed through the lens of twin protagonists whose sympathies are clearly on the side of the oppressed.

The numerous ways in which identity is doubled-up and obfuscated in this story is perhaps what is most interesting theme. To begin with there’s the duo of Diego and Bernardo, whose close friendship belies their very different personalities: one is a hot-blooded son of colonial Spanish nobility, the other a much more careful tribe member content to observe at great lengths before taking action. Then, of course, there is the dual identity of the hero - a foppish dandy by day, a daring crusader for justice by night. Additionally there is Diego’s mother, a feral native freedom fighter who winds up married to one of the preeminent civic leaders of colonial California. And finally we have the De Romeu sisters, each of whom saves Diego from the clutches of enemies in her own way. Each of these pairs is carefully complementary; they are whole which are greater than their parts, contrasts made stronger by their opposition.

I was hoping for something of a feminist reworking of the Zorro mythology in this novel. That is a theme, to be sure, though it’s somewhat muted. Certainly there are strong characters, and the women in Diego’s life are not to be trifled with. But they don’t really drive the narrative substantially - the entire thing revolves around him. Perhaps that’s to be expected given that he is, after all, the eponymous character. Still, it seems to me that there was something of a missed opportunity, that the book may have benefited from more investigation of the thoughts and backgrounds of these rather fascinating characters.

I enjoyed this book quite a bit, though mostly as a fun and engaging read; I wouldn’t say that it was quite the thought-provoking mythical revision that I was hoping for.