Friendship, family,  grief, longing, and perhaps most important of all, memory. 

These are some themes and words that came to mind after reading Mama Blanca’s Memoirs by Teresa de la Parra. This was a great read to begin this semester. I felt compelled by de la Parra’s thoughtful usage of memory and nostalgia all throughout the memoir, and it allowed me to shift my brain into thinking about just how powerful recounts of memories can be–not only for personal purposes regarding one’s own experiences and associated meanings/importance but for representing the time in which it was recorded; in this time, a time for rapid change and uncertainty in Venezuela. As such, de la Parra’s graceful writing style helped me fully envision Mama Blanca playing her piano (uninterrupted, of course), the walk to Vincente’s “depraved” (77) cabin, or one that I am all too familiar with due to my own childhood: the smells, sights, and happenings of a dairy barn in the morning as milk is collected. 

Although fictional, it helped provide me of what life just might have been like in Piedra Azul near Caracas–and how sugar plantations like that one were also rapidly disappearing during that time amidst the Gomez dictatorship. The double hit of nostalgia, provided both by the narrator (remembering Mama Blanca) and Mama Blanca (remembering her childhood) furthered the importance of memory all throughout–there is a simple beauty to it that has the ability to make the reader themselves feel nostalgic about their own life or connect with Mama Blanca too. It is these ways of recollection that ties the past to the present, the previous world to the current world–one with evolved norms, circumstances, and advances. 

There was one specific point in the book where the importance of keeping memory alive was important was shown very effectively to me: when Little Rain Cloud, the sick calf, died and his mother, Rain Cloud, was very sad. Despite Rain Cloud’s sorrow, the trees “selfishly” (99) displayed its flowers, clouds continued to pass, and the “heartless” (99) sun shone on; life went on despite the sadness of loss. Daniel asserted to the girls that the “dead are forgotten,” (100) but for a point in time, Little Rain Cloud’s hide on the replacement calf provided his mother with peace, closure, and good memories of him, thanks to Daniel. This story really stood out to me, because I grew up on a farm and had several experiences where I, unfortunately, had to witness calves who met the same fate as Little Rain Cloud. As a child, it was hard to see that in front of me, just like Mama Blanca, but I still hold valuable memories of how fun they were. Those experiences, even seemingly irrelevant or even significant, still shaped my childhood memories–all the good and the bad. Daniel was right, the dead are not forgotten, just like how Mama Blanca’s desire to have her memories and story kept alive were preserved and published by the narrator mentioned in the Foreward.

Over the past few years, reading political science or IR-centered policy analyses or research has become my “fun” reading week by week, but it has been so nice to read something other than that for once. I am super excited to continue our books for next week, but I have one question before ending this post: 

Did you have any similar experiences as a child to those of Mama Blanca? How did they shape you? In your own words, how would you describe the value of memory throughout literature–what social power does it have?