Categories
Uncategorized

conclusion

Going into this class, I’ll be honest, I was a little intimidated. When we started with Combray by Marcel Proust, I genuinely struggled. It was probably the most difficult thing I’ve had to read in a long time. The sentences felt endless, the pacing was slow, and I kept rereading the same parts trying to figure out what was even going on. At one point, I remember thinking that if this was what the rest of the course would be like, I probably wasn’t going to enjoy it.

I think part of why that hit me so hard is because of my relationship with reading overall. Growing up, I loved reading. It was something I chose to do, not something I had to do. I could finish a book in a single day in high school and actually enjoy every second of it. University changed that for me. Reading started to feel forced. It became about deadlines, understanding everything perfectly, and getting through texts I didn’t always connect with. Over time, reading started to feel like a chore, which was frustrating because I knew how much I used to love it. Starting with Combray brought that feeling back. It made me feel like I had lost that version of myself who enjoyed reading so easily. As the course went on though, things started to shift. I became more patient with myself and stopped expecting to understand everything perfectly. I started to focus more on the experience of reading instead of treating it like something I just had to get through. Hearing other people’s perspectives also helped a lot, since it showed me that confusion is actually a normal part of reading, not a sign that I was doing something wrong.

One of the biggest turning points for me was reading Nada by Carmen Laforet. That was one of the books I genuinely enjoyed. It felt more natural to read while still being meaningful. I didn’t feel like I had to force myself through it. I could actually connect with Andrea and her experiences, and it reminded me of what it feels like to get into a book again. Looking back now, I feel like I’ve rebuilt my relationship with reading. It’s not exactly the same as when I was younger, though it feels a lot closer than it did before this class. I can appreciate literature in an academic way while still enjoying it personally, which is something I didn’t think I would get back.

Discussion question: Did this course change the way you think about reading, and do you feel closer to the kind of reader you used to be?

Categories
Uncategorized

Love me Tender

I just finished Love Me Tender by Constance Debré, and I feel a bit conflicted about it in a way that actually made the experience more interesting. Going into it, I wasn’t expecting something this emotionally heavy. The story follows Constance after she loses custody of her son, and that situation kind of hangs over everything in the book. Even in the quieter moments, you can feel that loss in the background. One thing that really stood out to me is how much she simplifies her life. She lives in such a minimal, almost detached way, and it feels like she’s doing that on purpose, like it’s her way of coping or holding onto some sense of control. I found that really intriguing, even though it was also a bit uncomfortable to read.

That being said, this wasn’t my favourite book. It’s not something I would normally choose. There isn’t a strong, clear plot, and the writing style is very direct and repetitive. At times, it felt more like a stream of thoughts than a structured story. I also found myself wanting more emotional depth, especially when it came to her relationship with her son. There’s a distance there that makes sense, but it also made it harder for me to fully connect with her as a character. Even with that, I still liked reading it, just in a different way than I usually do. The honesty in the book is really striking. Constance questions everything, especially love, and that can feel a bit unsettling. It made me stop and think about how much of what we believe about love and family is shaped by expectations rather than choice. I think that’s what stayed with me the most. The book doesn’t try to comfort you or give clear answers, it just puts those questions out there.

I also thought the way it explores motherhood was really interesting. It challenges the idea that there’s one “right” way to be a mother, which is something you don’t see very often. It’s uncomfortable at times, but it also feels very real and honest. Overall, it wasn’t a book I loved, but I’m still glad I read it. It’s very different from most things I’ve read, and it kind of sticks with you because of that. Even now, I keep thinking back to certain ideas and moments.

Discussion question
Do you think Constance is actually finding freedom in her choices, or is she just trying to cope with what she has lost?

Categories
Uncategorized

My Brilliant Friend- Elena Ferrante

I feel like My Brilliant Friend is one of those books that I didn’t fully get into right away, yet the more I read, the more it grew on me. At the beginning, I was honestly kind of confused with all the characters and the neighborhood dynamics. It took me a bit to figure out who everyone was and how they were connected. Once I got into it though, I started to really like how immersive it felt, like I was actually growing up with Elena and Lila.

What I liked the most was their friendship. It felt super real and not romanticized really. There’s this constant mix of admiration and jealousy, especially from Elena’s side. She’s always comparing herself to Lila, who just seems naturally smarter and more confident. I feel like that dynamic is actually really relatable, because friendships can sometimes feel competitive even when you care about the other person. Lila was probably the most interesting character to me.

I also really liked how the book handled education. Seeing Elena continue school while Lila had to stop was honestly frustrating, especially because you can tell how smart Lila is. It made me think a lot about how much opportunity matters, not just talent. Those parts stuck with me the most.

At the same time, it’s not the fastest or easiest read. Some parts felt slow, and I definitely had to push through at times. I feel like that’s kind of the point though, because the story focuses more on everyday life and small moments rather than big dramatic events. In the end, it really stuck with me because of how honest and a bit uncomfortable it felt at times, which made everything seem more real.

Discussion question: Do you think Elena would still be the same person without Lila in her life, or is so much of who she is shaped by that relationship?

Categories
Uncategorized

Money to Burn- Piglia

Ricardo Piglia’s Money to Burn was an interesting read for me, mostly because it is not the type of book I would normally pick up. I usually do not gravitate toward crime novels, and this story is very centered around a bank robbery and the criminals involved in it. It took me a little while to get into the book. At first I found myself struggling to fully connect with the story, mostly because crime plots are not usually what I enjoy reading about. However, as I kept going, I started to appreciate the atmosphere and the way the story builds tension.

The novel follows a group of men planning and carrying out a robbery involving a large transfer of money from a bank to a municipal building in San Fernando, Argentina. A lot of the story focuses on the preparation for the robbery and the chaos that surrounds it. Instead of just being about the action of the crime itself, the book creates a strong sense of suspense and unpredictability. There is this constant feeling that something could go wrong at any moment, which keeps the story intense even in the quieter moments.

One thing I noticed while reading was that the narrative style can feel a bit confusing at times. The perspective shifts and there are many small details introduced throughout the story, which sometimes made it difficult for me to follow exactly what was happening. I found myself rereading a few sections to make sure I understood the events clearly. At the same time, I think that style might actually be intentional. The slightly chaotic storytelling seems to reflect the unstable situation surrounding the robbery and the uncertainty of everything unfolding.

Even though crime stories are not usually my favorite, I still think Money to Burn is an interesting book to read and discuss. It feels intense, messy, and unpredictable in a way that makes it stand out. While it was not my usual type of story, it was still engaging and gave me a different reading experience than what I normally go for.

Discussion question:
Do you think the robbery in Money to Burn feels carefully planned, or does the novel make it seem like the situation is constantly slipping out of the characters’ control?

Categories
Uncategorized

Manea- The Trenchcoat

Norman Manea’s The Trenchcoat is definitely one of those stories that stayed on my mind after finishing it, but I also have to admit that I found it a bit confusing at times. While reading it, I had to go back and reread certain parts more than once to fully understand what was happening. That might partly be because I was tired while reading, but the story itself is also written in a way that feels intentionally unclear and fragmented. Even though it was challenging at moments, I still found it really interesting.

The story centers around a group of people having dinner and talking, and somehow their conversation becomes focused on a mysterious trenchcoat. At first, the coat seems like such a small and random detail, but the longer the characters talk about it, the more serious and strange the conversation becomes. What I found interesting is how such a simple object slowly creates tension among everyone. The trenchcoat almost becomes symbolic of something bigger, especially the sense of suspicion and uncertainty that the characters seem to live with.

One reason the story felt confusing to me is because a lot of it is told through dialogue. The characters interrupt each other, jump between ideas, and sometimes seem unsure about what they are even arguing about. With this, it can be difficult to follow the exact meaning of their conversation. At the same time, I think this might actually be intentional. The confusion and repetition reflect how uncertain and paranoid the characters feel. Instead of giving the reader clear answers, Manea lets the tension grow through small details and uncomfortable conversations.

Even though I struggled with some parts, I still appreciated the story. It made me think about how political systems and social pressure can influence everyday interactions between people. The characters seem like they are just having a normal evening together, but there is always a feeling that something is wrong beneath the surface. That atmosphere is what makes the story feel unsettling but also meaningful.

Overall, The Trenchcoat was not the easiest story for me to read, but it was still engaging. Sometimes books that make you slow down and reread parts can actually be the ones that leave the biggest impression.

Discussion question:
Why do you think Manea chose to build the entire story around something as ordinary as a trenchcoat, and what might that object represent?

Categories
Uncategorized

The Time of the Doves

I actually really liked The Time of the Doves, and it has probably been the easiest book for me to read so far. Not because it is light, because it definitely is not, but because the writing flows so naturally. It feels like someone is sitting across from you telling you their life story in a very honest and simple way.

What stood out to me the most was Natalia’s voice. The story feels so personal and intimate, like we are inside her thoughts the entire time. Even though the Spanish Civil War is happening in the background, the focus stays on her everyday life. We see her marriage, her children, her struggles with money, and the emotional weight she carries. That made the history feel more real to me. Instead of learning about politics or battles, we see how huge events quietly shape one ordinary woman’s life.

Quimet really frustrated me. From the very beginning, when he starts calling her Colometa, it feels like he slowly takes control of her identity. Natalia does not dramatically fight back. She just absorbs everything. Watching her slowly lose parts of herself was hard to read, but it was also what made the book so powerful. The pigeons especially felt symbolic to me. At first they seem harmless, almost romantic, but they quickly become overwhelming and suffocating, just like her situation.

Even though the book deals with heavy topics like war, control, and poverty, I never found it confusing or difficult to get through. The simplicity of the writing made it even more emotional. It is quiet, but it stays with you.

Discussion question: Do you think Natalia ever truly regains her sense of self by the end of the novel, or is she permanently shaped by everything she endured?

Categories
Uncategorized

Nada Nada Nada

Reading Nada honestly felt kind of heavy, but in a way that stuck with me. It follows Andrea, a young woman who moves to Barcelona after the Spanish Civil War to start university. She shows up excited and hopeful, imagining this new chapter of her life, and then almost immediately that optimism gets crushed. The apartment she moves into with her family is tense, chaotic, and emotionally draining, and it really sets the tone for the whole book.

What really got me was how lonely Andrea feels the entire time. She’s never actually alone, but no one really sees her either. Her family is constantly arguing, holding onto resentment, and dealing with their own emotional mess, so there’s no space for warmth or care. The house feels loud and suffocating, yet somehow empty at the same time. It made me think about how loneliness can exist even when you’re surrounded by people.

Andrea herself felt very relatable. She’s quiet and observant, and she kind of just absorbs everything happening around her. She doesn’t dramatically rebel or confront anyone, but you can tell she’s trying to protect herself in small ways. Her friendship with Ena was such a breath of fresh air. Those moments felt lighter and almost hopeful, like a reminder that another kind of life might exist outside of that apartment.

I also really liked the way Laforet writes. Nothing is overexplained, and there aren’t big dramatic plot twists. Instead, the mood does all the work. The descriptions of the apartment and the city slowly build this feeling of exhaustion and emotional heaviness. Even though the war isn’t talked about constantly, you can feel its impact everywhere, especially in how broken and tense everyone seems.

Overall, Nada isn’t an easy or comforting read, but I’m really glad we read it. It captures that feeling of being young and hopeful, then realizing that adulthood and independence aren’t as freeing as you imagined. It’s quiet, sad, and very reflective, and it definitely stayed with me after I finished.

Discussion Question: do you think Andrea actually finds freedom at the end, or is she just leaving one difficult situation for another?

Categories
Uncategorized

Thoughts on The Shrouded Woman

I really liked this book. The Shrouded Woman was such a refreshing shift from the other texts we’ve read so far, and honestly, it felt like a bit of a relief. Not only was it the first book written by a woman that we’ve read in this course, but it was also the one I found the easiest to move through and the most emotionally engaging.

Compared to some of the earlier readings, which felt dense, meandering, or overly experimental, Bombal’s writing felt clear without being simplistic. The language is lyrical, but it never felt like it was trying to confuse the reader on purpose. I wasn’t constantly stopping to reread sentences or figure out what was happening. Instead, I could actually sink into the story and let the emotions guide me, which made the reading experience way more enjoyable overall.

What stood out to me most was how intimate the narrative felt. The entire novel unfolds through the consciousness of a woman who is reflecting on her life, her marriage, and her disappointments while lying on her deathbed. That perspective alone made the book feel deeply personal. Instead of focusing on big events or dramatic plot twists, Bombal focuses on the main character’s emotions, her loneliness, her desires, and how invisible she feels. It felt quiet, reflective, and almost haunting in the best way.

I also think the fact that this book is written by a woman really matters. The way marriage, love, and womanhood are portrayed feels distinctly different from the male-authored texts we’ve read so far. Instead of romanticizing relationships or framing women as accessories to male experience, Bombal shows how confining and isolating marriage can be for women, especially when emotional needs are ignored. There’s a sadness in the novel, but it’s paired with a strong sense of awareness and self-reflection that made it feel honest rather than depressing.

Overall, The Shrouded Woman felt emotional and surprisingly modern. It didn’t exhaust me the way some of the earlier readings did, and I found myself genuinely wanting to keep reading rather than pushing through out of obligation. This book makes me excited for the rest!

Question: Do you think The Shrouded Woman would feel as powerful if it were written from a male perspective, or is its emotional impact inseparable from Bombal writing as a woman?

Categories
Uncategorized

Nadja – André Breton

Okay, so going into Nadja, I really thought things would finally get easier after Proust. Like surely that was the hardest one, right? Wrong. While Nadja was technically easier to get through, I still spent most of the book feeling confused and slightly unwell in a “what am I even reading right now?” kind of way. The whole thing feels scattered, like Breton just dumped his thoughts onto the page and said “figure it out.” There’s barely a plot, time doesn’t seem to matter, and I kept waiting for something to fully click. It mostly didn’t.

The book starts with the classic “Who am I?” which immediately made me think, okay, this is going to be philosophical. Fair enough. But as I kept reading, it didn’t feel like he was actually trying to answer that question. Instead, it felt like we were just bouncing between random encounters, dreams, coincidences, and long reflections that may or may not mean something. At some point, I gave up trying to track a storyline and just accepted that confusion might be part of the experience. Not saying I loved that, but I survived.

I will say, one thing I genuinely liked was the images in the book. Nadja’s drawings were especially interesting and a little unsettling in a way that worked. Seeing them made the book feel more immersive and helped me understand the vibe of what Breton was describing, instead of just feeling confused all the time.

Now let’s talk about André and Nadja, because… yikes. Their relationship made me deeply uncomfortable. Nadja feels incredibly vulnerable and clearly not grounded in reality, while André seems fully aware of that and still keeps seeing her. On top of that, he’s married. The whole thing feels less romantic and more like he’s observing her as some sort of fascinating experiment. I mostly just felt bad for Nadja, especially when it becomes obvious how alone she really is.

Overall, Nadja was strange, uncomfortable, and confusing, but not completely uninteresting. I wouldn’t say I enjoyed it, and I definitely wouldn’t choose to read more surrealist literature for fun, but I can at least appreciate how different it was. Even if that difference mostly left me asking, “What did I just read?” It was for sure better than Proust in specific ways though.

Categories
Uncategorized

Reading “Combray” Without Pretending I Got It

I went into reading “Combray” fully prepared to be confused, and yet somehow, I was still caught off guard by just how confusing it was. This was not a light “oh, I’ll just read a few pages before bed” kind of text. This was a sit-up-straight, reread-the-same-sentence-four-times, question-your-intelligence kind of read. Proust’s sentences feel like they physically refuse to end, and more than once I found myself forgetting how a sentence even started by the time I reached the period.

At first, I thought I was reading it wrong. I kept stopping, rereading, and trying to piece together connections, assuming that if I just concentrated harder, everything would suddenly click. It didn’t. Eventually, I realized that maybe that sense of being lost is part of the experience. “Combray” doesn’t really care if you’re comfortable as a reader. It pulls you into the narrator’s mind, which is messy, obsessive, emotional, and constantly drifting, much like actual memory.

The famous madeleine scene is the clearest example of this. One small taste unleashes an overwhelming flood of memories, emotions, and images. I found this both fascinating and slightly unrealistic, mostly because I personally cannot remember what I ate yesterday, let alone have an entire childhood resurrected by a pastry. Still, the idea that memory can exist so powerfully beneath the surface, waiting to be unlocked by something mundane, felt strangely convincing.

Another part that stood out to me was the narrator’s intense fixation on the goodnight kiss from his mother. What could easily be dismissed as childish dramatics is treated with complete seriousness. The anxiety feels all-consuming, almost unbearable, and Proust never minimizes it. Instead, he seems to suggest that these early emotional patterns don’t disappear, they simply evolve and follow us into adulthood.

That said, there were moments where the level of detail felt excessive. Pages spent on rooms, paths, names, and minor characters sometimes made me wonder what I was supposed to hold onto and what I was allowed to forget. Still, maybe that’s the point. Memory isn’t efficient, linear, or selective in a neat way.

Ultimately, I didn’t enjoy reading “Combray” in a traditional sense, but I don’t think I was meant to. It’s frustrating, overwhelming, and oddly intimate, and maybe that discomfort is exactly what makes it work.

Spam prevention powered by Akismet