Last blog post ever.

Posted on April 9, 2026 by Carlina

That’s right. This is the end. But when certain things come to an end, I like to think about how it can lead to new beginnings. For me, one of those new beginnings is a growing appreciation and desire to read more Latin American literature. As a French Studies student who also did a major in French as an undergrad, this course served as my introduction to the world of Latin American literature. Of course, the course didn’t focus solely on that. After all, the theme of the course was “long books”—a topic we explored from multiple angles, including through the lens of students’ blogs, which was honestly one of my favourite parts of the course. I LOVED reading my classmates’ blog posts. I can’t say blog-writing is something I will continue, as I am a very private person. But perhaps that will change…perhaps, after being obliged to share my thoughts and ideas with others, I will learn to open up more. This can be another new beginning for me. As an undergrad, I was always one of the quietest students. When I would finally work up the courage to raise my hand, I would tremble in fear, which was usually followed by an immense worry that I would sound stupid in front of others. One aspect of this course that I appreciated was the fact that I felt a lot more comfortable and less nervous than I usually do in class. For that, I give credit to our professor Jon, as well as my wonderful classmates. As a grad student, there are many instances in which I feel inadequate. Unfortunately, I tend to compare myself to others far too often. So I want to say thank you to everyone for setting a tone and creating a classroom atmosphere that was welcoming—an environment full of open-minded individuals, from different backgrounds and fields of study, who invited thought-provoking discussion, without judgment.

So, has my opinion of long books changed since the beginning of the course? The Savage Detectives was the second longest book that I’ve read in my life (the books we read in my other courses are usually less than 300 pages). I didn’t love it, but I did like several aspects of the book (if you’re wondering what those aspects are, you can read my previous blog posts). Les guerriers de l’hiver was significantly shorter in length (459 pages) and overall, I did prefer this novel over The Savage Detectives. Norek’s novel was definitely more conventional and less experimental than Bolaño’s. However, I appreciated Bolaño’s unique (and sometimes bizarre) writing style. In fact, I’d say that I preferred his writing style more than Norek’s. But, I would say that I preferred the story of Les guerriers de l’hiver. On the other hand, Amulet was the real gem of this course. Reading the short novel put me in a bit of a trance-like state, as I embarked on a surreal journey through memories of the past and visions of the future, while constantly being reminded of the present situation of our narrator (I loved her), who faced incredible challenges as she survived through a week or so of absolute chaos. It was beautiful. And I’m looking forward to reading it all over again. I probably won’t be rereading the other two books, at least not for a while. And it’s not because they’re much longer books. I’d say that I now have a greater appreciation for longer books after taking this course. Perhaps that was one of the goals of the course? Well if it was, then it worked on me. I haven’t figured out which books I’ll be reading this summer, but I already plan on looking into books that are lengthier than those that I usually choose to read. In the past, I’ve often chosen shorter books over longer books, simply because I figured that I would be more likely to finish those books. I’m the kind of person that usually gravitates towards books that are less than 400 pages long. If I’m in a bookstore, I will pick up books that look like they’re 400 pages or less, then proceed to read the back in order to see whether it might be something I’d enjoy reading. They say that one should not judge a book by its cover (I’m also guilty of this), but I’d say that one should not judge a book by its size either. Sure, it might take a lot longer to read, especially for a slow reader like me. However, that extra time and effort might just be worth it. Not every book is worth reading. But I don’t want to miss out on those that are worth reading, simply because of their length. This course has helped me gain the patience and focus to read through longer books. And for that, I am incredibly grateful.

I hope everyone has a wonderful summer :)

Question for the class: If you were to recommend a book for me to read this summer, what would it be?

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I’m sorry for this but I do not know what else to write about

Posted on April 9, 2026 by julsanta

I am late with this. It’s been increasingly hard to do anything. Fuck depression.

I hope I do not come off trying to find pity in this post, but if I have to write something this is the only thing I have in my mind and I might as well use this obligation to write a blog post as some kind of shout to the void.

I do not know why did I think I could be a graduate student. I do not know why did I think I could be in academia. Two out of two times I’ve hit a big, painful, life threatening depressive episode at the end of a term. I’ll survive, maybe, but will I finish my masters? Increasingly I think it is not for me. Even though it seems that having an imposter syndrome is a necessary qualification for academia it seems no one does anything to address it. I’ve been told several times, by different professors that “it never goes away”, but haven’t been offered a real solution. I do not know how to write an essay. I do not know how to engage with a class. You would think that after a whole degree in literature I would feel capable to have a thought. The anxiety I’ve been trying to manage this week has made getting out of bed one of the hardest challenges. And now I have two essays in the horizon, no idea what I am going to write about, no idea how am I going to write them, wondering if I should just drop out, go back to Colombia, get in a call center and either die of burn out or depression. Since we are talking about endings that seems the one my life keeps foreshadowing to.

I have no idea how the next weeks will look like.

I am 90 words short.

Well, around 8000 words short.

How am I to survive this degree let alone the academic career that seems to be the only option left for me?

 

 

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Roads Not Taken

Posted on April 9, 2026 by Jon

I ended up teaching a course on long books this semester. Here is the original proposal:

Why are long books long? Beyond its length, what makes a long book different from a short book? How is the experience of reading a long book distinct from that of reading a short book? Should long books be shorter? Should short books be longer? What, if any, characteristics do long books share? Is there a politics of extension? This course sets out to answer these apparently simple questions. Along the way, we will also consider the phenomenology of reading, and ask how we read and why?

We will begin by reading a couple of long books (and, for the sake of comparison, also a couple of short books by the same authors) together. After that, students will choose a long book of their own for further study and investigation.

[Incidentally, students who actually took the course will note that the original plan was to read two, not just one, long books together, and that we would read the books consecutively, rather than in parallel.]

But I was quite tentative and unsure about this proposal, and in fact came up with (and suggested to the department) two other possibilities, one on “Twenty-First-Century Women Writers” across various Romance languages, and the other on “Displacement and Mobility in Latin American Narrative.” I am putting the descriptions of those potential courses below. I suspect that at first sight they would have been more attractive to many students. Indeed, one of my worries about a course with the title “long books” was that nobody would want to take it, not least because it advertises from the start that it would involve a lot of reading…

To my surprise, in fact, more students signed up than I had anticipated. Specifically (in that this was always to be a combined graduate/undergraduate course), more undergraduates enrolled than I expected to do so. And these were undergraduate students, moreover, who were overwhelmingly engaged and outspoken from the start. I had worried that they would feel intimidated and silenced by the graduate students (as sometimes happens with these crosslisted courses), but on the contrary: if anything the undergraduates were more invested and wanted to make the most of the course and what it had to offer.

(Sidenote: This is something I noticed also in the other course I taught this semester, which I also worried about at first. I thought, especially after coming back from a year and a half without teaching–because of sabbatical and leave–AI would basically have taken over. But no: I think we have a rising generation of post-Covid and AI-resistant students who no longer want to be fobbed off by a sub-standard university.)

Anyhow, these other potential courses would no doubt have been interesting and productive in their way, I like to think. But I am very glad that I went with “Long Books,” a course I had in fact long been talking about and hoping to teach, even if at the last minute I almost got cold feet about it.

For one thing, it soon become clear that the initial question–“why are long books long?”–although it may seem trivial and even jokey at the outset (after all, the obvious answer is the banal one, “because they have more words”), is in fact a real question that opens up a whole series of topics and themes. Indeed, we have ended up discussing literature and politics, psychology, economics, aesthetics, sociology, even biology… and fundamental questions about the limits and possibilities of representation.

For another, the course proved challenging but also rewarding pedagogically: I asked students to read one long book that I chose (Bolaño’s The Savage Detectives), but also invited them to pick a long book of their own, which they read in tandem or parallel with the set book. “Teaching” these books that I had not read (that in some cases I had never even heard of before the start of the semester), I have never felt more like an ignorant schoolmaster. And yet now, in the last week of the semester, I have a (fleeting?) feeling that all these texts are starting to resonate with each other, as they come to their various endings.

And finally, I have a new respect for and interest in long books. Adapting Tolstoy, I do think it is true that while short books are short for mostly the same reasons, long books tend to be long in their own ways. Which is not to fetishize length for its own sake (there are plenty of bad long books), but to think about what can be done across a bigger canvas, and how long books postpone conclusions or resolutions for good reasons.

But these are the roads not taken…

1. Twenty-First-Century Women Writers

This course is a survey of contemporary women writers whose work has been translated from Spanish, French, Italian, Portuguese, Romanian, and Catalan, or who are writing within a Romance Language tradition. Their books cover many different topics and styles: from history to memoir, autofiction to thriller, fantasy to horror; migration and violence, politics and family, race, class, and sexuality as well as gender, and much else. Amid all this variety, we will ask what if anything these texts might have in common. Does it make sense to talk of “women’s writing” here? Does the fact that they write or are fluent in a Romance language make this a meaningful category?

Though the set readings are still to be determined, these are some likely contenders…

Spanish: Mónica Ojeda (Ecuador), Jawbone (2018); Samanta Schweblin (Argentina), Little Eyes (2018)
French: Delphine de Vigan (France), Based on a True Story (2015); Annie Erneaux (France), The Years (2008)
Italian: Elena Ferrante (Italy), My Brilliant Friend (2012); Valeria Parrella (Italy), Almarina (2019)
Portuguese: Adriana Lisboa (Brazil), Crow Blue (2010); Djaimilia Pereira de Almeida (Angola/Portugal), That Hair (2015)
Romanian: Ioana Pârvulescu (Romania), Life Begins on Friday (2009)
Catalan: Eva Baltasar (Catalonia), Permafrost (2018)
English: Edwidge Danticat (Haiti), Claire of the Sea Light (2013); Valeria Luiselli (Mexico), Lost Children Archive (2019)
German: Herta Müller (Romania/Germany), The Hunger Angel (2009)

2. Displacement and Mobility in Latin American Narrative

This course examines various forms of displacement and mobility in Latin American narrative, from the conquest to the present. It proposes that displacement and mobility are central figures in the region’s literary imagination, continually reprised and replayed in sometimes surprising variations. From the violence of conquest to the itinerancy of capital, from the desperation of exile to the utopia of migration, the disruption of revolution or the smooth flows of neoliberalism, displacement and mobility have continually reshaped Latin American society and politics, uprooting populations and enabling lines of flight or escape, for better and for worse.

Though the set readings are still to be determined, these are some likely contenders…

Álvaro Enrigue, You Dreamed of Empires
Juan José Saer, The Witness
Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca, The Narrative of Cabeza de Vaca
Domingo Faustino Sarmiento, Facundo: Civilization and Barbarism
José María Arguedas, Deep Rivers
Carlos Fuentes, The Old Gringo
Roberto Bolaño, Amulet
Tununa Mercado, In a State of Memory
Cristina García, Dreaming in Cuban
Rita Indiana, Papi
Claudia Hernández, Slash and Burn
Emiliano Monge, Among the Lost
Valeria Luiselli, Lost Children Archive

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Another ending: Do you know what you are reading next?

Posted on April 9, 2026 by Amada Libertad

Another ending.

As we conclude this term, I can notice a difference in me. I started noticing this, when I finished The Savage Detectives. My urge to keep reading got really intense, almost to the point where it felt a bit excessive. It was not until I finished the other book that I realized what was actually going on.

It is not just that I want to read more, but that I have gotten used to staying with a text for longer. I keep thinking about it after I finish, going back to certain parts, trying to make sense of things that did not fully click the first time. The ending does not feel as final anymore.

When I finished Justo Antes del Final, the sadness that took over me almost pushed me to start a new novel right away. However, I stopped myself to think about whether that was really necessary, or if starting something new was just a way of avoiding that uncomfortable feeling.

I realized that I am not used to just sitting with what a book leaves behind. I usually feel this need to move on quickly, to fill that space with something else. But this time i held onto that bittersweet feeling a bit longer. The sadness did not go away, and starting another book would not have changed it, it would have only distracted me from it.

How long should one mourn a story? How long should one mourn a book?

If the book is longer, is the mourning harder? I guess now I understand one of the conversations we had in class about endings, and how maybe humans just hate them as much as they hate death.

Maybe that is the beauty of collective reading. You do not have to confront the ending in isolation.

I think that could be one of the reasons why finishing The Savage Detectives did not feel as difficult as finishing my individual book. We were constantly in conversation, sharing thoughts about Bolaño and the events we were reading, engaging with each other’s posts. That made the ending feel less heavy.

Maybe that is also why it did not feel as overwhelming.

Do you feel like that too? Did it feel easier to finish The Savage Detectives than your individual book?

I remember mentioning the page count set in class for a book to be considered “long” in front of students who were not in our class, and a lot of them disagreed. I’m curious to see if my standard for what counts as a long book changes after this class, and actually pushes further.

Do you know what you are reading next?

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The End – Monge’s Goodbye

Posted on April 9, 2026 by Amada Libertad

Finishing a long book feels like a small death. A forever goodbye.

Do authors cry when they finish their books? out of sadness, satisfaction, frustration?

Monge finishes the book really similarly to how I expected everything to end. You would expect that if an author is writing about the history of his mother throughout the different years she lived, he would end the book with the last year she was alive. and of course as a reader, I had to witness the death of Monje’s mother. Thus, I not only went through the death of the story, of the book, but also the deeath of the main character that made this book possible.

2014

That’s the year Monge’s moms dies. But the book doesnt end there but two years after. These last two chapters/two years are particularly small, in comparison to others (a great way to denote the absence of our main character).

2015

“Recordarás, entenderás o leerás —aquí, en esta página— que aquel año tu madre fue un torbellino de auroras boreales.”

“You will remember, you will understand, or you will read—here, on this page—that that year your mother was a whirlwind of northern lights.”

2016

“Empezarás, en el silencio de tu mente, a estar con ella otra vez. A sentir, en realidad, cómo se descompone el monopolo, cómo se disemina su energía, cómo zurcen, esos vectores, el caos y los afectos.”

“You will begin, in the silence of your mind, to be with her again. To feel, in reality, how the monopole breaks down, how its energy disperses, how those vectors stitch together chaos and affection.”

These chapters are so short, less than half a page each, and that contrast with the rest of the book feels intentional. It’s like the structure itself changes once she’s gone.

For me, this shift really reads as “the silence of the mind” that Monge mentions in 2016. Not just empty space, but the kind of silence that comes after someone dies. The absence of her, of tu madre’s voice becomes part of the narrative. And it’s uncomfortable, but also necessary because, in some way, that’s what grief feels like. You’re left with fragments, with less to hold onto, and you have to figure out how to exist in that new reality. To a weird extent, it is the same way we have to deal with the end of a book (a book that you care for).

It also changes how we read. The book kind of forces you to slow down, to sit with that absence, and to recognize that the story can’t continue in the same way anymore. In that sense, grief doesn’t just happen in the content, it reshapes the entire form of the book.

Looking back at my first blog post about this book, I’m starting to better understand the two worlds that each chapter holds: the intimate world of the family, especially tu madre, and the broader world of global events (scientific discoveries, political tensions, the rise of narco violence in Mexico, etc.). You can’t take a person out of their context. The mother is not just an individual with her own emotions, memories, and behaviors, she is also shaped by everything happening around her, even things that seem distant or unrelated. In that sense, the book feels like an attempt to map an impossible network of connections: between history and intimacy, between large-scale events and the smallest, most personal experiences.

It’s almost as if Monge is searching for an explanation, not in a reductive way, but in a desperate, expansive way. Like trying to understand: why did she become who she was? Why does trauma take the shape it does?. You can’t understand a person in a vacuum, because their life is entangled with political violence, scientific paradigms, cultural shifts, and historical moments that exceed them.

So instead of offering a clean explanation, the book builds this dense web of references and timelines, where everything seems connected, even if those connections are not always clear or fully comprehensible.

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Final Blog!

Posted on April 8, 2026 by annabelle

Woah, I cannot believe we’ve reached the end of the semester! Thinking of endings: this is always an ending I don’t mind reaching. If we think about each week as a chapter and the whole semester as a book, I’ve enjoyed this one. In this comparison am I writing the chapters or reading them? I guess that depends if we think of the future as determined or variable. Okay well, that’s enough of that, I am getting annoyed with myself.

A takeaway for me is how long books can be helpful. Going into this class, two of my favourite pieces of literature were Of Mice and Men, by John Steinbeck (about 100 pages) and “Desirée’s Baby” by Kate Chopin (about 8 pages). While I do definitely like long books, I like how short texts are so concise, precise, (when done well) every piece fitting just so. I feel it is harder to argue that longer books achieve the same precision: one of my challenges with The Savage Detectives was whole parts could have been taken out or switched or changed, and the whole story would not have come out much different. In another way, I like how the super short stories we read – like the dinosaur in the bedroom – had a similar effect of causing an amplification of our imagination imbued into the reading.

But there are things only long books can do. Bolaño held us in suspense for some-500 pages and several decades to conclude a story that all started with García Madero joining the visceral realists. That is certainly not a tool shorter books can use – but I don’t think I would have the patience for another book like this.

Reflecting on the long book format, I see another interest in long books: as antidotes. Increasingly, attention spans are shortening as content is shortening to meet them, creating a back and forth that seemingly leaves long books as out of style. Perhaps we can think of long books as solution: to require readers to commit for a longer period of time, to require closer reading than trendy BookTok favourites and commitment to putting away other distractions if we are either to get to the end or to get something out of it. 

Towards the end of the semester, as I find myself increasingly stressed and without a moment to spare, I find myself increasingly tiring to Instagram feels for respite: a quick scroll really puts my mind at ease (lol!). But then of course, like any other vice, it doesn’t meaningfully  help me. Turning to long books, or books in general, might just. And so, I find myself turning to my next read…

I have the amazing opportunity to visit my good friend Sofia in Chile for three weeks in May! To prepare, I’ve done a VPL spree and I’ve put a bunch of Chilean books – fiction and non-fiction (and also a photography book from 1954? I’m going to try to find the same streets to compare!) on hold – including Isabelle Allende’s House of Spirits, which we’ve talked about in class…not favourably! Haha! Also a book Lily recommended to me, called I Lived on Butterfly Hill, which makes me reflect on the social aspect of books. I love the social aspects of books – how a usually solitary activity can create community and conversations…hmm sounds like I need to join a book club!

Which, now that I think about it, RMST 495 felt like to me. It was a space to share findings, learning, interpretations in an open way that promoted discussion and deeper readings. In not having to worry about writing essays, I found myself doing a different kind of learning: how to read to share. I’ve enjoyed hearing from everyone else’s interpretations and own books, as well as the atmosphere in class! It’s been so fun to be in a class where everyone contributes and is not on their phones the whole time. Thanks guys! I was a pretty quiet student – but I always enjoyed listening to what others had to say.

Well, that’s all from me folks. I am both excited and sad about our final class tomorrow – it’s my final class for the semester, which always feels both exhilarating and daunting! For my final question for you all, do you have a favourite end of year song? I can think back clearly to the song I put in my headphones at the end of each semester (it had to be the perfect song to capture the weight lifted off of my shoulders of course!). So do you have any songs you like to listen to at the end of the year?

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never can say goodbye

Posted on April 8, 2026 by harmela kassa

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endings… and nostalgia; Where do we begin?

Posted on April 8, 2026 by jasmine choi

endings: long books —

I don’t know why I always feel challenged to write an ending that is satisfactory. At this point, I’ve written quite a few conclusion blogs for Jon’s classes. Some are better than others. Some are forgettable. A few are memorable. I wonder if it has to do with nostalgia. Sentimentality, of sorts. Nostalgic for what? A time and place? BUCH B218 on Thursdays from 3-6pm; a grueling time but campus in the evening carries a different weight. Sentimental for the books I’ve read? For Perec? For Bolaño? Have I developed some sort of attachment to the form of a long book? Have I grown weary of it? Have I grown fond of the weariness? (This week, I’ve not been able to complain to anyone about the giant books I’m reading). Maybe, in truth, I have grown fond of talking about the books themselves, learning and discussing new things, and of reading/writing the blogs.

All these thoughts and feelings are most likely accentuated by the fact of my graduation. At what other time in my life will I spend an hour and a half trying to establish a precise timeline of a book that is a chronological labyrinth with only a semblance of rhyme and reason?

I think that I am trying to conjure up some sort of substance in this ending. I think, however, it is my fate to somehow always return to nostalgia when it comes to endings.

I guess the question is: what exactly have I learned?

In this culminating blogpost, I’m thinking about digressions, about pith, puzzles, gestalt, time and the reading of it, windows, knives, and some very long books. I’m thinking about stylistics, and how Lily said mine is “…I think.”

I’m thinking about how I wrote about endings and gestalt some time ago, and how that maybe would’ve been a better concluding blogpost. But alas… Maybe it is indicative of how endings are almost never at the end. How many endings can we have? Where can they be? Where could they end? What makes a good ending? And how often are endings at the end?

I’m thinking about enigmatic endings. Do you think Jon will end the class tomorrow by asking us “what’s outside the window?”.

Onto takeaways. I will sincerely miss writing blogposts and also reading them. Yes, reading long books in this kind of time constraint felt masochistic at times. Yes, I enjoyed it. Yes, it felt like a fun little book-club sometimes. Yes, I will probably endeavor to read more long books now. No, I probably will not read too much more Bolaño.

Here, I am wondering: do you think that nostalgia has to do with a ‘good’ ending? What is a ‘good’ ending to you? Where is it? Is nostalgia or sentimentality tied up with it?

Nostalgia, I think, always has to do with ending(s). The end? maybe not. More so, I think it has to do with the perpetual half-open process of ending. The very core of the -ing part of ending. (It’s never done?) Maybe, we have to differentiate between endings and the end. Maybe, the one thing that never really ends is the ending itself.

Do you think nostalgia has to do with void? Is it the force that establishes gravity, thus keeping the void outside the window? Does nostalgia end? Does it begin?

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RMST 495 – Week 13: The End

Posted on April 8, 2026 by david chen

Salut tout le monde ! Bonjorn a totes! Hola a totham! ¡Hola a todos! Ciao a tutti ! Ciao a tücc! Ciau a tutti! Ola a toz! Ola a todos! Olá a todos!

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Honestly, I cannot believe we’re already at the end of the course and submitting our very final blog post. It felt like it wasn’t that long ago, remembering that I felt slightly anxious starting this course, particularly because of the Savage Detectives being a 600-something page-long book, plus another 400-something page-long book of our choice. Even though I’ve often found myself reading short novels more (300 pages or less), this course allowed me a space, an environment and an opportunity to enjoy reading long books at a slower and consistent pace, and not just by myself but with many others.

General Reflection: The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolaño

The Savage Detectives: A Novel eBook : Bolaño, Roberto, Wimmer, Natasha: Amazon.ca: Kindle Store The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolaño | Goodreads

Photos: Front cover of the novel « The Savage Detectives » and image of author Roberto Bolaño

Reading The Savage Detectives has been a uniquely immersive experience, both challenging and rewarding. At the beginning, I found the novel’s slow pacing and unconventional structure of shifting narrators, stylized diary entries, interviews, and fragmented timelines overwhelming and chaotic. However, as we progressed further into the novel, it began to make more sense, and I started feeling appreciative of how these elements mirror the restless, searching spirit of the characters themselves. The storylines on Arturo Belano, Ulises Lima, Garcia Madero (of course), and the wider circle of the Visceral Realist poets narrate the excitement, confusion, chaos, grit, belongingness, meaning, sense and passion of the youth.

Messy, exhausting, and exhilarating: Roberto Bolaño really knows how to pull you into his carefully crafted world of the Visceral Realist and the youths in Mexico and Latin America.

She Messy GIFs | Tenor Very Tired GIFs | Tenor Excited GIFs | Tenor

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Quiet Chaos: A Novel: Veronesi, Sandro: 9780061572944: Books - Amazon.ca Image of Sandro Veronesi, 2006 (photo) Sandro Veronesi: Libri in offerta

Photos: Front cover of the novel « The Savage Detectives » and images of author Sandro Veronesi

General Reflection: Quiet Chaos by Sandro Veronesi

In contrast, from the very first pages of Quiet Chaos, I felt completely absorbed in Pietro Paladini’s world. I have to say that Veronesi has a certain way of making the everyday and mundane interactions feel captivating and profound, narrating the moments of grief, loss, love and the quiet unpredictability of life. Strangely, there is a certain pull from this novel where I sometimes forget that I am reading about a fictional character and his fictional life. On several occasions, it felt like I was reading into a private memoir or journal of a real person. That is, Veronesi really knows how to craft his words in a way that I felt like this was a real experience and that Pietro Paladini is not just a main character but a real person somewhere in Italy living life and grieving his past.

Quiet, chaotic and moving: Sandro Veronesi truly knows what it takes to write something so vulnerable, so real, and so poignant, pulling me into the quiet world of Pietro and navigating grief in the most bizarre way possible.

Quiet GIFs | Tenor Who Has Time Amidst All This Chaos Moira Rose GIF - Who Has Time Amidst All This Chaos Moira Rose Catherine Ohara - Discover & Share GIFs Emotional GIFs | Tenor

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General Reflection: RMST 401 – Long Books by Dr. Jon Beasley-Murray

Overall, the course RMST 401 has been an enjoyable experience. At first, when I learned of this course, I really thought we would be coming up with intensive literary research, but it turned out to be different. Instead, this course offered a space, an environment and an opportunity to discuss, debate and articulate our thoughts, opinions and feelings about the books. Something that I found rare compared to many of my other courses, especially math and science courses. Similar to my other RMST 301 and RMST 302, where we read and form in-class discussions and debates about short stories, theatre, poetry and prose, I truly enjoyed talking and talking more about The Savage Detectives on a weekly or bi-weekly basis.

It’s true that students don’t often come across classes where we don’t just learn but also freely discuss, talk, articulate and debate our ideas, thoughts, opinions, and feelings. In a sense, I am very appreciative of how Dr. Jon Beasley-Murray structured this course the way it is. I’m not sure if I will ever come across another course to talk about a single book for such a long period of time with so much attention and perspectives applied to analyze a book and its wider context. Maybe! I just need to join a book club: wine, cheese, books, chatters, people, friends, voices and active discussions!

T H A N K  Y O U .

D A V I D  C.

Book Club GIFs | Tenor Book Club Movie GIFs - Find & Share on GIPHY Wine Party GIFs | Tenor

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Au revoir, les amis ! Adieu per ara, amics! Adéu per ara, amics! ¡Adiós, amigos! Arrivederci, amici! Ciau per adess, amis! Arrivederci pi ora, amici! Asta luego, amigos! Ata logo, amigos! Adeus, amigos!

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In the beginning, there was a book club

Posted on April 8, 2026 by mg444

The end of this course has me thinking about a number of things. One of them is book clubs. Another is beginnings. Another is my MA thesis.

Book club meetings have sometimes been imagined as gatherings of middle-aged women who would rather gossip or complain than discuss books. And while I unequivocally support a woman’s right to complain when she has something to complain about, I think this portrayal of book clubs wrongly suggests that middle-aged women cannot or would not choose to engage seriously with literature. Going in another direction, I wonder whether our classes could be compared to book club sessions. And then I think (without judging, certainly) about how many of us would voice complaints about The Savage Detectives, and I wonder if we can place some value on complaint as a form of engagement with both life and novels.

About beginnings. Have we reached the end of the course, or the beginning of life post-RMST 495/520? I don’t know that the answer really matters; I just think it’s healthy for me to be a little annoying on occasion. But I do appreciate the unity of opposites here: everything that begins has an ending, and vice versa. And the end of every process is the beginning of a new one. Is the end of every book the potential beginning of a new one?

Finally, a relevant quotation from Manuel Puig’s Kiss of the Spider Woman (translation by Thomas Colchie):

—[…] In a man’s life, which may be short and may be long, everything is temporary. Nothing is forever.

—Yes, but let it last a little while, at least that much.

—It’s a question of learning to accept things as they come, and to appreciate the good that happens to you, even if it doesn’t last. Because nothing is forever.

—Yes, it’s easy to say. But feeling it is something else. (259)

Although it’s not something that I plan to focus on in my thesis, lately I’ve been thinking about the ways in which beginnings and endings play out in this book (one of three that I’ll write about). Kiss of the Spider Woman is a story in which other stories (movie plots) are recounted, usually over the course of many nights. So, there is the beginning and ending of each story/movie in addition to the beginning and ending of the book itself. There are also “missing” or somewhat unclear beginnings and endings: for example, the reader learns that the two main characters have been cellmates for several months, but their first meeting is not portrayed or mentioned; and even though it is made clear that they are separated before (not at!) the end of the novel, the reader does not witness the actual moments right before that separation occurs. I think this ambiguity is one of the elements that gives Kiss of the Spider Woman its (sometimes) dreamlike quality.

Final question of the semester: Is there anything that you wish you had done differently while taking (or teaching) this course?

Tagged | Comments Off on In the beginning, there was a book club