I am convinced that the writings of Jorge Luis Borges—an Argentinian writer infamous for his playful nature and toying with language—are not merely a method to be reckoned with in the literary canon, but also a turbulent force which makes us question our expectations when approaching future literature as a whole. The writing itself seems very much rooted in the genre of surrealism, or like minded postmodern movements of the 20th century. When considering the social change of the time (brought forth by wars and revolutions alike in Latin America) it is no wonder that conventional ways of writing were challenged by Borges, as with many other writers as a way to spearhead an intellectual revolution in the way we think and act towards objects of power, as in the literary–often viewed as “elitist”–realm. 

    In terms of content, I enjoyed the unique way the text was ordered with a sporadic use of headings to guide the bewildered reader–in this way it reminded me of Hopscotch by Julio Cortázar, the namesake of the course. The author relies on the use of allusions to tell a complex tale befitting of our time, ranging from a religious critique, as in “The Lottery in Babylon,” to commenting on military jingoism in “The Garden of Forking Paths.” Both are situated near each other and represent, in my interpretation, a duality of ideology, or two sides of the same coin. “Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius,” the heading that starts the book, is a fitting introduction, as it revolves around the use of language and stored knowledge in a literate culture. Through a conversation the narrator has with one of the few characters in the novel, Bioy Casares, there is a fourth-wall break in the way he essentially discloses the omission of facts to shape reality which would be commonplace in the narrative going forward; in this sense, it almost reads as a disclaimer. 

    A great disclaimer it is, as well: the story often proves difficult to follow and jumps back and forth through time, memory and fabrication—most separated, but not always, by headings—leading the reader to believe they are in fact stuck in a maze of some kind, with that maze being their own struggle of comprehension. As mammals, we enjoy solving puzzles. I think Borges, in the way he has structured his narrative, appeals to this common instinct between us all. There is a democratisation of intellect in his work, and therefore a sense of unification. Yet restricted by the written word, there is also an unavoidable elitism at play owing to the medium—and as Marshall McLuhan will tell any soul, this is the message: The fact that those who are illiterate will not comprehend this story is in itself a barricade to understanding, larger than any artificial or tangible maze. And so there is conflict even in the work of postmodernism. 

    My question this week is to what extent does Jorge Borges appeal to the reader’s instinct to solve problems and think critically about meaning; and by contrast, what does the obstruction of our understanding represent? S