Malintzin is one of the most complex and ambiguous figures in Mexican history. Whether as the mother of the mestizo nation or the archetypal traitor to her people, she has been a sensual and powerful presence in history, myth and fiction. Given to Hernando Cortés in 1519 as a slave, the young Nahua woman became invaluable to him as a translator, bore him a son, and served as an invaluable mediator between the Spanish and indigenous worlds. The Spaniards respectfully called her doña Marina, and she has become known to history as La Malinche, but other indigenous people called her Malintzin.

In Malintzin's Choices, Camilla Townsend traces the footsteps of this extraordinary woman and places her within the complex web of power relations which characterised sixteenth-century Mexico. Rejecting the potent stereotypes which have dominated the history of Malintzin's life, Townsend reframes her as a real woman, facing the challenges and realities which confronted indigenous women before, during, and after the conquest of Mexico. Unfortunately for any biographer, this fascinating figure has left us few words of her own, and her life is obscured by a tangle of myth and opinion, but Townsend skilfully turns the challenges of her project into one of its greatest values; she is refreshingly frank about which portions of her story rely on speculation or deduction, and she acknowledges her methodological difficulties openly. Clearly addressing the areas of ambiguity, Townsend provides not only an engrossing story and a scholarly study, but also an accomplished model for tackling the challenges of early colonial history. The boundaries and possibilities of sources are central to Malintzin's history, but Townsend wears her scholarship lightly, and the methodological analysis is never permitted to encumber the story. From Malintzin's unrecorded birth to the lives of her children in Spanish and Mexican society, this is constantly fascinating and beautifully told.

The real strength of this book lies in Townsend's sensitive reconstruction of the shifting worlds of sixteenth-century Mexico. The narrative is carefully framed against Nahua, Spanish and Maya backgrounds, and the realities of life in this period are clearly revealed. Although Malintzin was remarkable, caught in a web of events which afforded her a pivotal role in history, her experience also reflected that of many indigenous women. From childhood, youth and slavery, to marriage, motherhood and early death, Townsend traces the lives of indigenous women through Malinztin's experience, shedding light on the choices and imperatives which drove Nahua and Maya lives. Her portrayal of female life in this changing world is sympathetic, highly informed and insightful, showing their personal agency and resistance to the impositions of both conquistadors and local warriors, even while she reveals their flexibility and creativity in the wake of conquest. It is a pleasure to read a work about the conquest by a writer so knowledgeable about Nahua and Maya life. Spanish and indigenous imperatives and perspectives are carefully interwoven in this beautifully balanced picture of Malintzin's world. In her use of Nahuatl sources in particular, Townsend brings a fresh dimension to the story of the Spanish invasion. The inclusion of the Nahuatl Chalca Woman's Song, with an accompanying translation, offers the general reader a direct and fascinating insight into the beauty and subtlety of the indigenous perspective, while also appealing to the increasing audience of Nahua scholars.

Building bridges between worlds and translating not only language but also ideas, the interpreter or ‘go-between’ has been the subject of much recent interest, as historians have sought to find the places between worlds of understanding. Townsend's insightful and elegant book stands out amongst recent work in this field, expertly weaving a story of negotiation, accommodation and resistance. Painting a rich picture of this turbulent period, Townsend has undoubtedly returned Malintzin to her rightful place as a complex, intelligent and influential woman but, as the author herself admits, ‘real lives always encompass more than one truth’ (p. 211), and the reality of Malintzin's experience remains a shadowy one. Townsend argues persuasively for the interpreter's courage, intelligence and force of personality but, as first a slave and then a ‘mistress’, one wonders how far Malintzin's ‘choices’ were sometimes entirely her own. In the use of their bodies, for work, sex or marriage, the ability of indigenous women to choose their path was inevitably circumscribed by the demands of their circumstances. For a slave such as Malintzin, the life of a translator at times offered both status and respect, but she rarely found security, and the uncertainties of her position are evident in the long battle her children fought to restore her reputation after her premature death.

A controversial figure since the sixteenth century, Malintzin's life has been dominated by the question of reputation. Townsend excels at unravelling the many conflicting stories and if, in places, an academic reader might have wished for slightly more detailed references to some of the secondary historiographical debates, this is more than compensated by the readability and elegance of this well-informed book. Townsend breathes life into Malintzin and her world, tracing her steps through the history and culture of sixteenth-century Mexico. Malintzin's Choices is an engrossing and beautifully written story, but it is more than the biography of an individual, fascinating though she is. Through the life of one woman, Townsend has also written the history of a transient world. Accessible and enjoyable, as well as scholarly, Malintzin's Choices is an important and original history of the familiar story of the conquest of Mexico.