Month: January 2026

One of the first things I noticed about The Shrouded Woman is how abruptly it begins. There’s no buildup or explanation, we’re immediately inside Ana María’s consciousness as she lies in her coffin. What surprised me most was how calm and reflective this perspective is. Death isn’t portrayed as frightening or chaotic, but as quiet and observant. That choice really shapes the tone of the novel and makes it feel intimate and almost dreamlike, rather than morbid.

What I found most interesting is how memory works in the story. Time doesn’t move in a straight line at all. Instead, memories surface based on emotion where someone standing near her body triggers a thought, which leads into a memory from childhood, marriage, or a past love. These shifts feel natural rather than confusing, and they made me think about how we actually remember our lives, not as a clean timeline, but as moments that resurface because they still carry an emotional weight.

I also really liked the idea that death becomes a space for clarity. Ana María only seems to fully understand her life once she’s no longer alive. While living, she’s constrained by expectations placed on her as a woman like marriage, motherhood, and emotional restraint. In death, those pressures disappear, allowing her to look honestly at her relationships. Her marriage stood out to me in particular because it wasn’t overtly cruel or dramatic, just quietly empty. That emotional distance felt very real and in some ways, more unsettling than open conflict.

That being said, there were parts I didn’t enjoy as much. At times the novel felt slow or repetitive because so much of the story takes place inside Ana María’s thoughts, and so some memories blurred together. I occasionally found myself wanting more grounding in the present moment or clearer distinctions between different periods of her life, even though I understand that the blurred structure is intentional.

What I found most puzzling was the ending. Ana María’s final merging with nature and the universe feels peaceful, but also very abstract. I wasn’t sure whether to read it as a hopeful form of liberation or as the complete erasure of her individuality. That ambiguity is interesting, but it left me uncertain about how to interpret the novel’s final message.

In class, I’d really like to talk about what Bombal is saying about women’s fulfillment. Do you think the novel is saying women can only feel free outside of life’s usual expectations? What did you think about the way the story jumps between memories? did it make it more powerful or harder to follow?

While reading Mad Toy, one of the first things I noticed was how uncomfortable and raw the novel feels. Arlt doesn’t try to make Silvio Astier likeable or heroic, and that actually made the story more interesting for me. Silvio is intelligent and imaginative, but he’s also resentful, impulsive, and often self-sabotaging. Instead of a typical coming of age story where the main character grows or learns meaningful lessons, this novel feels like a coming of age story where things just keep going wrong, no matter how hard Silvio tries to escape his circumstances.

What I found most interesting was how much Silvio lives in his head. He is constantly imagining himself as a criminal genius, an inventor, or someone destined for greatness, but reality never matches those fantasies. His obsession with books, crime stories, and adventure novels made me think about how imagination can be both an escape and a trap. On one hand, these stories give Silvio a way to mentally escape his poverty and feel powerful or exceptional, even if only temporarily. On the other hand, they raise his expectations for what life should look like, which makes his real circumstances feel even more disappointing. Instead of motivating him, his imagination often leaves him stuck comparing himself to fictional ideals he can never live up to.

Something I liked about the novel was how honest it is about failure. Silvio fails repeatedly, as a thief, as a worker, as a student, and as a romantic partner. There’s no clear redemption arc or moment where everything suddenly improves, which feels bleak but also realistic. It reflects how social and economic conditions can limit people’s choices, especially those from poorer backgrounds. At the same time, I disliked how emotionally heavy the novel became by the end. The constant sense of frustration and hopelessness made parts of the book hard to read, especially knowing that Silvio never really catches a break or finds a stable sense of belonging.

In class, I’d like to talk more about whether Silvio should be read mainly as a victim of society or as someone responsible for his own downfall. On one hand, his difficult social and economic circumstances clearly shape many of his choices and limit his opportunities, which might suggest he is largely a product of his environment. On the other hand, he repeatedly makes impulsive decisions and sabotages himself, which raises questions about personal responsibility. I’m interested in discussing where we should draw the line between the influence of society and individual choice, and whether Arlt is critiquing society, human nature, or both.

Reading the first chapter of Swann’s Way honestly felt like being stuck inside someone’s thoughts at 2 a.m. when you’re half asleep and everything is weird and blurry. At first I kept waiting for something to actually happen, but it’s more like Proust just lets you float around inside the narrator’s head. I didn’t really get it at the beginning and I was kind of annoyed because there isn’t a normal storyline, but after a while I realized that this confusion is actually the whole point of the story.

The part that stood out the most to me was the madeleine scene. The narrator eats a piece of cake dipped in tea and suddenly his entire childhood in Combray comes flooding back. I liked how he didn’t sit there trying to remember but it just happened. That actually felt really relatable. I’ve definitely had moments where a smell or a song randomly brings back a memory I didn’t even know I had. It made me think about how our memories are kind of hidden inside us until something small unlocks them.

What I didn’t like was how long and complicated the sentences are. Sometimes I had to reread the same paragraph three times because I forgot what the sentence even started with. It also felt frustrating that he jumps between the present and the past so smoothly that I wasn’t always sure where I was in the story.

What confused me the most is how he can turn something as basic as tea and cake into this huge reflection about life and memory. I’m still not sure if I find that amazing or just exhausting.

In class, I’d really like to talk about whether this idea of “involuntary memory” still works today, especially since we’re constantly taking photos, videos, and screenshots of our lives. Proust suggests that our most meaningful memories come back when we least expect them, through something sensory like taste or smell. But now, instead of letting moments disappear and resurface on their own, we often try to preserve everything immediately. I wonder if this actually changes how memory works. Does documenting a moment right away make it less likely to come back in that sudden, emotional way later? Or does it flatten the experience because we’re focusing more on capturing it than actually feeling it? It makes me think about how different it is to randomly smell something that reminds you of childhood versus scrolling through old photos because an app tells you it’s a “memory.”

Hi everyone! My name is Jasmine and I’m currently a double major in Political Science and Sociology.

To be honest, one of my biggest expectations for this course is that it’s going to be challenging for me. I’m not naturally a huge reader, and I know this class is going to involve a lot of reading. But I’m actually looking forward to that challenge since I’m hoping to go to law school in the future, and I know that reading, analyzing, and understanding dense material is basically essential for that path. So I’m treating this course as really good practice for what’s ahead.