This semester was interesting. Not entirely with regard to course and class material was, but in general, interesting. The Olympic break was amazing, incredible, estupendo; however, it put me in Summer mode by early March.
This brings me to my first point. Aside from having a semester broken up by breaks, some sunny skies, and a late long weekend, I was never quite inspired by this class(nor any other of my classes this term, for that matter). I understand that the University has criteria for what an instructor must cover during the given semester, and that given the current structure and system, an introductory 'survey' of a region or culture's literature is "sufficient" for receiving credits saying we've "learned" it, but c'mon. This class, like most of my classes at UBC, has been lacking in something, something that keeps people interested, intrigued, inspired to do the reading and work on time or even ahead of time. Having a class that is interesting and compelling will make you come to class on time, will make you not miss any classes, and will make you give it that extra effort.
With regard to this particular class, I would have liked to have spent more time with each text, as I'm sure Jon would, in order to get a better understanding of why they are important. Reading each text was tough, and I had hoped that lectures would clear up any misunderstanding I had had, and would clarify what was notable about the stories. This was true to some extent, but only occasionally did I find myself really riveted by a lecture. I think what would have helped would be a more focused reading, and a bit of direction given before each reading. I find that it helps a reader, especially a reader new to a certain genre and/or language, to be provided with something to think about and look for in the text. We sort of went into each text blind, without direction or an introduction. A lot of the texts went way over my head, but having a brief introductory lecture or briefing regarding what to expect and what to look for, I think I would have been able to understand each text better.
Now don't get me wrong, its not all the class/university/system's fault, for we as students are responsible for motivating ourselves to try hard, no matter what material, how boring or how dull the class. I've often come to the conclusion that it must be me, it must be my own interest in the subject matter. If I were more interested, than I'd be getting a lot more out of the course. This is true to some extent. Having an interest in the subject matter, an interest beyond simply receiving credits from a course you're required to take to graduate, makes an important difference in how you enjoy and what you learn from the course. There may be an effect of a lack of self-referential material here; I really can't relate to Latin American identity, literature, or culture for that matter. I may get much more out of a class like this after having spent some time in Latin America. But maybe as a student of Spanish and Spanish culture, its up to me to find interest in something I'm unfamiliar with or unrelated to.
In sum, I'm glad its nearly summer, and that the course is (almost) over and done with. Next time around, if there is one, I should go to Latin America before studying this material, and I should study it at a slower, more focused rate, perhaps at a school that doesn't try to cram "knowledge" down our throats and send us on our merry way into the unknown.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Los tres libros
In comparing the works we read this term, the first thing that comes to mind is each book's readability and our analysis of each. This blog entry is my analysis of the texts from the perspective of the reader. I found Cien anos de soledad to be the easiest to read as well as the easiest to deconstruct. While many works within the realm of magical realism can be tough to follow, understand and truly appreciate, I found CADS to be the most accessible. It may be that it is the most recent, the most similar in syntax to other books that I've read, and most obvious but still important, it is a novel. Leyendas is a compilation of cuentos. Reino de este mundo may be called a historical and anthropological account of the Haitian revolution. While the detail of structure may seem trivial, it plays an important role in how the book reads and what the author is able to achieve.
Leyendas de Guatemala was probably the toughest to read and the toughest to deconstruct. Given its structure, it never achieves the intuitive flow of the other books. It seems abstract, lacks fluidity, cohesion and intuitive structure. For a layperson reader and those without further instruction, Leyendas seems tough to follow, tough to know what Asturias is getting at, and to understand why each tales is important. However, given its aim, it achieves what the author intends: it tells the tales of Latin America, from the epic to the minimal. Each tale aids to weave a strange web of stories of ancient and recent times. Asturias is able to show diversity, depth and splendor in Latin American culture, though he does in a manner that is not easily accessible.
El reino de este mundo is a more intuitive text, though can seem abstract and tough to guage. It jumps through time, between people, between class and between race. It gives a deep look into the Hatian revolution from the perspective of the colonials and of the slaves. I found this book interesting, though not compelling nor exoteric. Again, further instruction aided my understanding of Carpentier's intentions and achievements.
Cien anos de soledad was my favourite of the books, it was the easiest to follow, the most intuitive to deconstruct, though it was not very enjoyable to read. I found the novel fascinating at some points, riveting at others, but dry and boring for the most part. It is riddled with pages of what seems like trivial details and plot points. Simply reading through it, keeping up with who is who, and how things are connected was an exhausting task. However, after a bit of guidance of where to look and on what to focus, Marquez's genius is revealed. His creation of Macondo and the Buendia family is truly astounding. Its no wonder the guy won a Nobel prize.
While each of these texts differ in readability and accessibility, they all, arguably, make up Latin American of magical realism. This style of writing isn't necessarily meant to be accessible, intuitive and easy to read. It is supposed to be simple and sublime, to be real and fantastic at the same time. In this way it displays the marvel that is our world and the genius of human imagination.
Leyendas de Guatemala was probably the toughest to read and the toughest to deconstruct. Given its structure, it never achieves the intuitive flow of the other books. It seems abstract, lacks fluidity, cohesion and intuitive structure. For a layperson reader and those without further instruction, Leyendas seems tough to follow, tough to know what Asturias is getting at, and to understand why each tales is important. However, given its aim, it achieves what the author intends: it tells the tales of Latin America, from the epic to the minimal. Each tale aids to weave a strange web of stories of ancient and recent times. Asturias is able to show diversity, depth and splendor in Latin American culture, though he does in a manner that is not easily accessible.
El reino de este mundo is a more intuitive text, though can seem abstract and tough to guage. It jumps through time, between people, between class and between race. It gives a deep look into the Hatian revolution from the perspective of the colonials and of the slaves. I found this book interesting, though not compelling nor exoteric. Again, further instruction aided my understanding of Carpentier's intentions and achievements.
Cien anos de soledad was my favourite of the books, it was the easiest to follow, the most intuitive to deconstruct, though it was not very enjoyable to read. I found the novel fascinating at some points, riveting at others, but dry and boring for the most part. It is riddled with pages of what seems like trivial details and plot points. Simply reading through it, keeping up with who is who, and how things are connected was an exhausting task. However, after a bit of guidance of where to look and on what to focus, Marquez's genius is revealed. His creation of Macondo and the Buendia family is truly astounding. Its no wonder the guy won a Nobel prize.
While each of these texts differ in readability and accessibility, they all, arguably, make up Latin American of magical realism. This style of writing isn't necessarily meant to be accessible, intuitive and easy to read. It is supposed to be simple and sublime, to be real and fantastic at the same time. In this way it displays the marvel that is our world and the genius of human imagination.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Cien años de soledad - Round 3
After a third sitting and a few lectures to demonstrate the prominent theme of solitude in Cien anos de soledad, its tough to maintain optimism. No happy ending in sight, I would gander. Its exhausting. Marquez seems to toy with customary literary themes of platonic love and carpe diem, introducing his own style and then choking the characters with solitude. No, this is quite unlike the more classic literature works, for example most of the pieces we read in SPAN 365 like El Cid in which a hero rises to a challenge, wins the girl, all is put right in the world and everyone parties till the final word at an epic wedding. Having had these ideas glorified and re-worked, re-branded and re-shoved down our throats by pop-culture and Hollywood in oh so many shapes and forms, Cien anos de soledad makes for a change like shoving your head in an icy vat of water. While we may be conditioned and expectant of happy endings, weddings, romantic love and free will, and while we may hope and expect these elements in the novel, it fails to deliver .This novel is more like how my father guesses most movies (and LOST) end: "everyone dies in the end." It is an anti-climactic unconventional novel that isn't thrilling, isn't your conventional page-turner, and (so far) doesn't leave you hoping for that happy ending. It is the Oscar winning No Country for Old Men of critically acclaimed great novels: compared to another recent winnerSlumdog Millionaire (much more classic in its themes and happy ending), Cien anos de Soledad is not gratifying, not glorious; it is one of those movies you walk out of stunned, slightly impressed, but leave confused and let down. However comical and optimistic it may seem at the beginning, the novel quickly swats away any notion of joyousness; each character has their own fate, his or her own set course and we are the audience. We watch as they grow only so close to others until succumbing to their own unique form of solitude. After seeing it repeat generation after generation, the reader is exhausted by seeing one character after another drowning in their own world, shut from connection others and closed from the world. I'm now wondering, what's left on the horizon? How will the novel end? At this point I'm going to slip into my own world of solitude, shut from the world and wallowing in my own loneliness until we finish the book and I can get back to Kerouac and wishing I was traveling.
Maybe it is just something conditioned by our culture, an expectancy that something good will happen, an unrealistic optimism, that keeps me waiting and wanting someone to 'win', to triumph and not be left alone in the end. So far, things are looking grim. But hey, one can hope.
Maybe it is just something conditioned by our culture, an expectancy that something good will happen, an unrealistic optimism, that keeps me waiting and wanting someone to 'win', to triumph and not be left alone in the end. So far, things are looking grim. But hey, one can hope.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Cien años de soledad - Round 2
"Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are always bad men." - John Dalberg-Acton
From the beginning, Colonel Aureliano Buendia seems an acute and curious child bound for greatness. His newborn gaze seems to bore into people, capturing the workings of their mind and soul. He shows supernatural abilities, such as his ability to predict future occurrences. He shows a diligent work ethic as an apprentice to his father and when he begins his own enterprise in metal works. As a reader the character of Colonel Aureliano appears a likable protagonist, one who the reader pulls for to win the girl, the war and to overcome whatever obstacle. His love poems to Remedios show his creative ingenuity. However, as the novel progresses we begin to glimpse the loneliness, confusion and cowardice of the future Colonel. He becomes jealous with Jose Arcadio's 'terremoto' of an affair with Pilar and, to the reader's dislike, beds her in a passion-less scene. The life he shares with his bride, Remedios, is shortlived. He is left alone with his memories, and his work, and remains without love. During this period of mourning, he has formed a connection with Remedios' father, thus opening the world to politics and war. It is this future which will consume him, leaving but a trace of that acute, curious child.
War greatly changes the Colonel. At first, he resists taking part. Later, he is a modest leader, who deters praise of his name. Yet years later, he seems to shrink, becoming gaunt and unrecognizable. His countless battles, escapes, and journeys to the far reaches of the world have left him haggard and disheveled. When faced with the firing squad, he thinks back to that day, long ago, when his father showed him the ice. This was a time of childhood innocence, purity, and the splendor of childhood wonder. This was a time that the Colonel has long since left behind and cannot return to. The war persists, as do the many myths and identities of Colonel Aureliano Buendia. Everywhere he goes he leaves a trace of himself in another, resulting in 17 children, further losing hold of his own identity. It takes another man of war to recognize the toll that it has taken on Colonel Aurelianos. Colonel Gerineldo Marquez is the first to see the emptiness of war. Little by little, his communication with Colonel Aureliano Buendia fades until he feels hes in telegraphic contact with a stranger from another world. Colonel Aureliano Buendia was intoxicated by the glory of his return, by his remarkable victories. He had peered into the abyss of greatness. The rest is history.
From the beginning, Colonel Aureliano Buendia seems an acute and curious child bound for greatness. His newborn gaze seems to bore into people, capturing the workings of their mind and soul. He shows supernatural abilities, such as his ability to predict future occurrences. He shows a diligent work ethic as an apprentice to his father and when he begins his own enterprise in metal works. As a reader the character of Colonel Aureliano appears a likable protagonist, one who the reader pulls for to win the girl, the war and to overcome whatever obstacle. His love poems to Remedios show his creative ingenuity. However, as the novel progresses we begin to glimpse the loneliness, confusion and cowardice of the future Colonel. He becomes jealous with Jose Arcadio's 'terremoto' of an affair with Pilar and, to the reader's dislike, beds her in a passion-less scene. The life he shares with his bride, Remedios, is shortlived. He is left alone with his memories, and his work, and remains without love. During this period of mourning, he has formed a connection with Remedios' father, thus opening the world to politics and war. It is this future which will consume him, leaving but a trace of that acute, curious child.
War greatly changes the Colonel. At first, he resists taking part. Later, he is a modest leader, who deters praise of his name. Yet years later, he seems to shrink, becoming gaunt and unrecognizable. His countless battles, escapes, and journeys to the far reaches of the world have left him haggard and disheveled. When faced with the firing squad, he thinks back to that day, long ago, when his father showed him the ice. This was a time of childhood innocence, purity, and the splendor of childhood wonder. This was a time that the Colonel has long since left behind and cannot return to. The war persists, as do the many myths and identities of Colonel Aureliano Buendia. Everywhere he goes he leaves a trace of himself in another, resulting in 17 children, further losing hold of his own identity. It takes another man of war to recognize the toll that it has taken on Colonel Aurelianos. Colonel Gerineldo Marquez is the first to see the emptiness of war. Little by little, his communication with Colonel Aureliano Buendia fades until he feels hes in telegraphic contact with a stranger from another world. Colonel Aureliano Buendia was intoxicated by the glory of his return, by his remarkable victories. He had peered into the abyss of greatness. The rest is history.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Cien años de soledad - Round 1
Having read (most) of Cien años de soledad previously - I admit, so much happens that it wasn't long before I was lost in the seemingly endless storyline - the second time is refreshingly, well, magical. Marquez's style of magical realism differs from the predecessors who's works we've read in class in that Marquez spins a fantastic web throughout but presents it in matter of fact manner. For instance the birth of a child with a pig's tail and the entire town being put under a spell of insomnia are told just as matter-of-factly as Jose Arcadia's eloping with the gitanita. Marquez also plays the role of the omniscient narrator unbound by constructs of time. He is able to transcend chronological boundaries, reaching into the past and foretelling the future. This adds a sense of connectivity of the character of the past to the present and future; a character isn't simply what they are in a moment, they are what they where before and at conception, during all their worldly experiences, at their deathbed and even beyond into the memory they've left to others. Marquez seems to assert that what and who people in Macondo are is be determined by forces that are out of their control and often out of this world; the fates of each person aren't for them to decide. In sum, the depth of the storytelling, the attention to detail and the extreme measures to which Marquez has thought out the fortunes of each character is truly remarkable.
On another note, I wish draw a strange but - I believe - interesting comparison between Marquez's Macondo and the town of Deadwood, South Dakota, or at least as it was during the late 19th century. HBO recently concluded a fantastic television series about the lawless town of Deadwood, South Dakota during the 1870's. Deadwood was a town outside the reaches of US government jurisdiction, amidst warring natives and settled upon fortunes of gold waiting to be mined. Deadwood was settled, like many mining towns of its time, by those seeking the fortune that lay below its soil. The town was, at the time, legally part of Native American soil and therefore out of the reaches of US jurisdiction. After a few settlers struck gold, more people began to arrive and the town grew in size, reaching about 5,000 people. Deadwood flourished for a while, ungoverned by the US and relatively untouched by the natives. Business was booming. Prostitution in brothels and endless drinking in saloons kept the townsfolk content, as did the fact that they didn't pay taxes, didn't abide by state or federal laws - or any real judicial system for that matter - and were free to seek their own fortune and make their own destiny. Yet good times could not last forever. This brings be, finally, back to my comparison of Deadwood to Macondo: the imminent influence of outside forces changes both cities. Just as Macondo was changed by the influx of foreign markets and the government institutions of Mascote and more, so was Deadwood changed by the powers of US government officials and gold tycoons who all aimed to annex the town. However peaceful and picturesque a town may seem on its own, the world has grown much smaller; there seems to be much less left untouched and, however good our intentions are, our outside influence on smaller society may rupture the Eden of the small, secluded Macondos and Deadwoods.
On another note, I wish draw a strange but - I believe - interesting comparison between Marquez's Macondo and the town of Deadwood, South Dakota, or at least as it was during the late 19th century. HBO recently concluded a fantastic television series about the lawless town of Deadwood, South Dakota during the 1870's. Deadwood was a town outside the reaches of US government jurisdiction, amidst warring natives and settled upon fortunes of gold waiting to be mined. Deadwood was settled, like many mining towns of its time, by those seeking the fortune that lay below its soil. The town was, at the time, legally part of Native American soil and therefore out of the reaches of US jurisdiction. After a few settlers struck gold, more people began to arrive and the town grew in size, reaching about 5,000 people. Deadwood flourished for a while, ungoverned by the US and relatively untouched by the natives. Business was booming. Prostitution in brothels and endless drinking in saloons kept the townsfolk content, as did the fact that they didn't pay taxes, didn't abide by state or federal laws - or any real judicial system for that matter - and were free to seek their own fortune and make their own destiny. Yet good times could not last forever. This brings be, finally, back to my comparison of Deadwood to Macondo: the imminent influence of outside forces changes both cities. Just as Macondo was changed by the influx of foreign markets and the government institutions of Mascote and more, so was Deadwood changed by the powers of US government officials and gold tycoons who all aimed to annex the town. However peaceful and picturesque a town may seem on its own, the world has grown much smaller; there seems to be much less left untouched and, however good our intentions are, our outside influence on smaller society may rupture the Eden of the small, secluded Macondos and Deadwoods.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
35 Days of Spanish 365
Many weeks later, as he sat facing the computer screen hours before the due project, (name was removed for security purposes) was to remember that distant morn when his professor took him to discover magical realism. At that time, UBC was a village of about 50,000, built on the peninsula, surrounded by clear water that ran along the coast and through to the open ocean. The world was so young that many things were left to be discovered, many things left to be learnt and for this young individual, a long life to live. Every four years, during the coldest of winter months, there was held a grand ceremony, lasting only two weeks, that celebrated the very greatest of those to walk, skate, sled, or curl on this earth. It was this week that our young protagonist yearned for to arrive, and which, however close it seemed, was just out of reach, impeded by that which faced him in this hour, not a single project, but a plethora of examinations that were to decide the path he took, his fate, and that of the world. He went from web page to web page, scouring notes and thoughts about magic and realism, ancient myths and beliefs, dragging with him the weight of the consequences of taking the short-cut, the easy way out, by listening to the distant words of web-gypsies, who set up virtual tents and with a great uproar of strong opinion, false ingenuity and pipesmoke, would display their thoughts for others to see. “Things have a life of their own,” a web-gypsy proclaimed with a harsh accent. “It’s simply a matter of waking up their souls..” Our protagonist, whose unbridled imagination always went beyond the genius of nature and even beyond miracles and magic, thought that it would be possible to make use of these useless gypsy words to extract gold from the depths of the web. And so, taking them, against the counsel of this heavy gypsy with an untamed web page and sparrow hands, our young protagonist used these words to complete the smallest of weekly web-journal entries. Empowered by the words of the great, inspired by those whose knowledge of prose he could not touch, this young gent, a dignified gentleman though he was, produced what would grant him the grades worthy of participation. With a click heard around the vast array of tubes that make up these wondrous web of internets, he finished his assignment.
Achieving what he set out to do in reflecting upon his readings of late: the epic literary tone, the mythical structure, the use of cultural tales of yesteryear to narrate the stories of the present, the fantastic portrayed as normal and accepted, and the real being embellished as marvelously real. Our young protagonist’s fate was laid to rest, for the time being, in the hands of his professor. So it goes.
Achieving what he set out to do in reflecting upon his readings of late: the epic literary tone, the mythical structure, the use of cultural tales of yesteryear to narrate the stories of the present, the fantastic portrayed as normal and accepted, and the real being embellished as marvelously real. Our young protagonist’s fate was laid to rest, for the time being, in the hands of his professor. So it goes.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
El reino de este mundo 2
I guess the point of this book is to examine, as President Obama so eloquently put it, the audacity of hope. Humanity, despite its brutal ways, has prevailed because of an unwillingness to give up and a desire to keep fighting despite all odds. I think this is best captured in the closing chapter of El reino de este mundo in which Ti Noel reflects that "la grandeza del hombre esta precisamente en querer mejorar lo que es." Despite such awful suffering, years of oppression, and countless generations lost to the brutality of slavery, hope for a better world overcomes.
Permit me some philosophical reflection with regards to our species. Call me a cynic, but I am ashamed of humanity’s ability to fight over everything and anything, exploiting, oppressing and dehumanizing anyone and everyone in our path. I am ashamed that we sink to astonishingly low levels of exploitation in search of power and gain (i.e. the Holocaust and Rwanda) and that, sadly, we still permit these things to happen now and will continue to do so in the future. El reino de este mundo thoroughly shows us how hope and devastation recur in a cyclic fashion and how history, both the good and the bad parts, repeats itself. Peace is rare and short-lived and unity is often found upon alignment against a common enemy. The world will be united in working together only when evil aliens come and threaten our existence (apparently climate change isn’t threatening enough, though, as long as we have Bill Pullman as President and Jeff Goldblum and Will Smith fighting as the good guys, I’ll rest assured that we shall prevail. Independence Day anyone?) Anyways, in this day and age I struggle to maintain optimism for a better future, especially with the astounding odds we face (I’m an American so when I say “we” I’m referring to my fellow countrymen and countrywomen, although our fates are greatly intertwined with those of the rest of the world, especially Canadians). What with two wars, trillions of dollars in debt, high unemployment, a faulty health care system and faltering economy, the threat of a massively flooded health care market as millions of baby-boomers prepare to retire, no jobs, a congress that can’t agree on anything, not to mention a changing climate that threatens our very existence, its tough to keep your chin up. However, what El reino de este mundo can teach us is that while we can’t escape the fact that we’re a brutal species, we have the “capaz de amar en medio de las plagas,” we have the ability to find beauty in harshest of times and can be comforted that there is greatness in our audacity to hope.
The show ain’t over till the fat lady sings.
Permit me some philosophical reflection with regards to our species. Call me a cynic, but I am ashamed of humanity’s ability to fight over everything and anything, exploiting, oppressing and dehumanizing anyone and everyone in our path. I am ashamed that we sink to astonishingly low levels of exploitation in search of power and gain (i.e. the Holocaust and Rwanda) and that, sadly, we still permit these things to happen now and will continue to do so in the future. El reino de este mundo thoroughly shows us how hope and devastation recur in a cyclic fashion and how history, both the good and the bad parts, repeats itself. Peace is rare and short-lived and unity is often found upon alignment against a common enemy. The world will be united in working together only when evil aliens come and threaten our existence (apparently climate change isn’t threatening enough, though, as long as we have Bill Pullman as President and Jeff Goldblum and Will Smith fighting as the good guys, I’ll rest assured that we shall prevail. Independence Day anyone?) Anyways, in this day and age I struggle to maintain optimism for a better future, especially with the astounding odds we face (I’m an American so when I say “we” I’m referring to my fellow countrymen and countrywomen, although our fates are greatly intertwined with those of the rest of the world, especially Canadians). What with two wars, trillions of dollars in debt, high unemployment, a faulty health care system and faltering economy, the threat of a massively flooded health care market as millions of baby-boomers prepare to retire, no jobs, a congress that can’t agree on anything, not to mention a changing climate that threatens our very existence, its tough to keep your chin up. However, what El reino de este mundo can teach us is that while we can’t escape the fact that we’re a brutal species, we have the “capaz de amar en medio de las plagas,” we have the ability to find beauty in harshest of times and can be comforted that there is greatness in our audacity to hope.
The show ain’t over till the fat lady sings.
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