Tag Archives: violence

02/13/23

Week 6: Revolution of Ideas in Carpentier’s The Kingdom of This World

    Primarily, Alejo Carpentier’s “The Kingdom of This World” is a book which surrounds itself with themes of conflict. Through portraying the violence that slave revolts might bring, as well as comparing it to the actual trauma that comes through the Haitian slave trade, it mirrors the internal struggle of ideology inherent in its characters regarding the difficulty not only in winning a revolution with force, but also one that convinces others with its ideas. This is done through charting the Haitian revolution from 1799 to 1804 and showing its aftermath—the latter of which is often lost in the romantic ideas of present day “change” without any care for what arises from its conflict. In a sense, the story shows the tension of resistance that comes about through the “two worlds” of the slave trade in the form of the master-slave relationship. It is also in this way Carpentier’s narrative seeks to capture French/Spanish identity as the real marvellous–in essence, a precursor to its signature style of magical realism. 

    It was owing to the author’s idea of capturing the “real marvellous” I most enjoyed the writing style of this book. In a similar day-dream style to Gabriel Garcia Marquez, one sequence wherein the protagonist Ti Noel compares calves heads’ to the decapitated human white heads of masters is particularly striking in the context of the narrative of revolution. This is contrasted with newsprints of the French Revolution and the imagery of the death of King Louie in 1793. Overall, the tension remains ripe in the air through the everyday objects which, on their own, reveal little significance outside of the lofty dreams and hopes and fantasies of the protagonist. It is only through contemporary news on the periphery that drives the narrative forward.

    To quote the lecture, “where Europe meets Africa” stands as the backdrop of this story. Present day strife is often fuelled by age-old conflict, whether blatantly obvious or buried. But it is in the spiritual seance of the Americas where the plot can find some footing outside of a mere timepiece—for as the prologue attempts to inform the reader, many of the rituals within the book’s pages can be found in Venezuela and other countries to this day. Through the focus on creating a mood and feel of the real marvellous, I believe “The Kingdom of This World” stands as a true example of Latin American literature: representing not merely the regional zeitgeist of Haiti, but the conflicts surrounding colonialism and slavery which are common across the genre as a whole. 

    My prompt for the class this week will be one that questions the definition of Latin American literature as a whole. Is magical realism a style which has always been a vital component of describing most Latin culture, as shown through Carpentier and Marquez, or simply a modern phenomenon which transcends region? S

01/23/23

Week 3: The Link Between Intellect and Violence in The Underdogs

    It can be argued that several wars, if not most of them, have been started by intellectuals. Those few who hold the keys to power in literacy and prestige are often the greatest practicers of spearheading obstinate positions, stirring up the anger of the masses towards any persons viewed as the “enemy” and, above all, overthinking a problem which might otherwise be solved through pacifism rather than violent rebellion. A text on the forefront of literature from the Mexican Revolution, The Underdogs by Mariano Azuela, is very much a novel concerning this disillusionment from revolution after heavy losses brought on by years of fighting. It paints the intellectuals, or “sense-makers” as those whose over-idealised ideas of change and progress have resulted in devastation not only for others, but made them the architects of their own misery. In equal measure, Azuela’s narrative captures the animalistic brutality brought on by the common soldier manipulated by the demagogic rhetoric of his leaders. 

    Predominantly, the way the extremities of conflict affects the common soldier is captured through the breakdown of class and experience, homogenised during wartime. What might be considered the main character, Demetrio Macias, is a fugitive from the law who joins the conflict as a way to escape punishment, yet soon becomes an unlikely leader of this band of rebels. Because of his development in a more lower class oral culture, he orders his men to engage in book burning at one point in the novel, perhaps believing it to be the symbolic destruction of the literary world which has started the fighting and has always looked down on him. There is a certain joy he finds in this, and more generally, violence as well. “His famous marksmanship fills him with joy,” the text states near the end of the novel. If war does not lead to his physical demise, as it is implied by the end of the text, the comparison between a hollow as “the portico of an old cathedral” certainly symbolises a death of morality in the beast of a man. 

    A more nuanced view of war is taken by Luis Cervantes, who is able to read and write, and is described as more eloquent, inspiring and good for the troops. Yet he is also perhaps seen as part of the problem, another one of these “sense-makers” who have only come to elongate the conflict and inadvertently lead to further destruction. Although a strange pairing, wartime allows these two men to prosper through their ruthlessness and charisma respectively. It is only the way in which they view conflict, as well as embolden it, which differentiates them. 

    My question would be: Do you believe in the central premise that the minority of intellectuals in power are to blame for warfare? Or, more cynically, do you consider man’s devolution into violence inevitable? S