RMST 495/520: Long Books

Reading the first chapter of the Nuestra parte de noche (Our share of night), by Mariana Enriquez, called Las garras del dios vivo, enero de 1981 (the claws of the living god, January 1981), has been an astonishing, impressive, experience accompanied by cosas imposibles (impossible things) while everyday life has to continue in the non-routinary life of the father and son, Juan and Gaspar, the main characters who, through a journey in Argentina, are learning to recognize themselves without the mother’s presence. 

In my first reading, it was the relationship between father (Juan) and son (Gaspar), the main element that captured my attention in this novel, which I have enjoyed. In their journey and relationship, their oppressive consanguinity challenges the paternity of a father who can read his son’s feelings: “Juan sintió el dolor de su hijo como una alarma que lo despertó y esa mañana pudo abrazarlo antes de que empezara a llorar…” (66) (My translation: “Juan felt his son’s pain as an alarm that woke him up, and that morning he was able to hug him before he started crying…” ). And although Juan can sense everyone’s feelings, the profound bond between him and his son makes up the essence of their path: “No podía dormir, pero podía pasar horas escuchando la voz de Gaspar: el chico entendía, hacía lo correcto, lo sostenía” (105). (My translation: He couldn’t sleep, but he could spend hours listening to Gaspar’s voice: the boy understood, did the right thing, supported him). 

Juan, who embodies a powerful god, is at once an imperfect father and a fragile human being who is falling apart, who suffers for his fatherhood and for his son’s fate, while around him, them (father and son), the violence claims his place and the dead are lost among the horrors of dictatorship and obscenities of Puerto Reyes: “En Argentina sobran los muertos anónimos y esta casa ha sido una cárcel clandestina por años” (147) 

The mixture of supernatural events, mystery, parenthood, and a child’s perspectives (Gaspar’s perspective) transforms into a particular way to represent a historic time, which merges with the fiction of  Nuestra parte de noche, where additionally, hopelessness could be the color of the darkness, or perhaps this is like a black hole that consumes all light, or like a dictadura (dictatorship) that devours those that are different and those that are similar, too. And like this is the dark god who talks through Juan.

Hi everyone, this is my first blog post for our self-selected books for the course. I chose to read Zeno’s Conscience by Italo Svevo, and I read up to page 61. I haven’t evenly split my book into four sections based on page numbers, but instead I went off of the parts in the book, which meant I read the first two parts; Smoke and My Father’s Death. 

I will start with a summary of what I have learned from the book in the first sixty pages. The very first page is actually from a character called Dr. S, who we as readers do not know anything about really. She states that she will not be doing any psychoanalysis yet, as the latter part of the book is dedicated to that, and in fact she is publishing these unfinished written memories of Zeno’s as revenge for not participating in his treatment properly and to get him to resume as well. The last sentence of Dr. S reads “If only he knew the countless surprises he might enjoy from discussing the many truths and the many lies he has assembled in here!” Immediately, this shifted the perspective I was going to read this book in. Instead of reading the book as a personal recollection of Zeno’s life, I read with a lens that did not really trust the words and experiences Zeno was recalling, as he as been deemed by a doctor as a liar essentially.

When reading the first part Smoke, I felt there was a humorous undertone in it all. First Zeno recalls how he began his habit of smoking, which stemmed from him stealing cigarettes from his father. However, the humour for me, came from his descriptions of just how much he smoked, but then also how much he hated it. Furthermore, after becoming “violently ill” from all his smoking, he begins a phase where he quits smoking almost every single day. On page 13, Zeno begins to ramble about how the date is imperative to him quitting smoking. In relation to the year 1913, Zeno claims there was no thirteenth month to harmonize the year he would quit smoking. These kinds of excuses seem ridiculous as you read, but the way in which the book is written, Zeno seems very convincing. At first, he does not come off as illogical or unstable. There is a calmness in the way he writes about his illnesses arising from smoking, him seeking a doctor to help him quit smoking. Due to the abruptness and simple way Zeno writes, he also reveals quite a bit about his neuroticisms and his significant character flaws, such as the complete inability to make decisions and take responsibility. For example, on page 19, he randomly decides to bet wit Olivi that he won’t smoke before him, but then decides he cannot stand the fact that he is now a “slave” to Olivi, and smokes to alleviate that reality.

My Father’s Death explored the strange relationship Zeno recalls with his father, and reveals more of Zeno’s strange tendencies and raises the same questions of his reliability. According to Zeno, his father brought up his tendency to laugh even during serious matters, and Zeno’s response (of course very normal, believable and level-headed) was to find the closest doctor and get himself examined so he could receive a clean bill of health. Naturally, Zeno’s father was not very pleased, and this brought him to tears, confirming for him that Zeno was crazy. This is just one of the many odd encounters Zeno had with his father, before he became extremely ill and frail himself, which led to a whole other set of complications of their relationship. When a doctor was called in to take care of Zeno’s father, he almost instantly got the sense that Zeno did not really care and would be happy if he died. From that point, Zeno held great disdain towards the doctor, but never really explicitly tried to deny that either, and instead said this guilt crushed him. It was almost as if he knew that wanting his father to die is wrong, but was not able to get his words, emotions or thoughts to align with this.

I’m excited to keep reading, the next part is the story of his marriage, which I cannot imagine the wife would be too fond of, considering how detached and strange Zeno comes across as. It is clear that Zeno has a very specific worldview of mistrust and general angst, so I would be very surprised if the next 100 pages are about how lucky he is to be married. Thank you for reading my post!

Simi

I chose to read Don quixote. This is a novel written in the 1600’s by Cervantes Saavedra.
The story has a main protagonist as Alonso Quijano who is obsessed with medieval romances and with becoming a knight-errant. He names himself Don Quixote de la Mancha and goes on different adventures with his ” escudero” Sancho-Panza who left his wife and kids to join him on an adventure.

So… what do i think of it?

I have to say the novel is not bad. I am reading a different version (not the extremely long one).
I always find a bit dangerous the idea of submerging too much in fiction. I believe that creates a dimension that is only control by you and disconnects you from your reality. People need fiction to survive or to have a meaning and this is problematic. You cannot let fiction to overpower your own story. But , it is better to leave those ideas for the final blog.

From the first pages , i noticed that there is something wrong . For example ; the narrator does not wish to remember La Mancha and admits that Alonso has already lost his mind before he made the decision of becoming a knight-errant. The description of his armor, he did not have weapons to go on his adventure , and how women do not understand his language and made fun of him which infuriates Quixote.

There are multiple signs that the main character is not sane, but he does want to do something good. As he takes the role of defender of the weak and saves Andres of getting whipped.
The reality that Don quixote lives is completely reshaped by the novels he read ( novels that ended up burnt). His reality is so distorted that he confuses where he is , and the people that live there by characters of the books he read before. Then ,when i saw the picture of him getting fed with his helmet on , i concluded that this man has read way too much fiction.

The addition of Sancho is interesting as it is implied that he is not very smart and also does not have the look of someone who will go on an adventure with a knight like Don Quixote.

In conclusion , The power of fiction is highlighted as a force that can give meaning to your life. Yes , he is crazy but that is just in the surface. He is walking , and wondering around because he wants to makes sense of the world he lives in.

Hi Guys!

The book I have chosen is The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon

My initial reaction to this book was that I actually think I like it and will enjoy it. I have been reading a lot of literature recently and a lot of it is boring and hard to understand. Therefore, this book was a good change because not only was it significantly easier to understand but it was also quite interesting. The book starts off with the protagonist being taken to the cemetery of forgotten books. At first, I was like what is that even but turns out it’s a secret library and I love books with mystery and this gave off that exact energy. However, I was confused on why it is called the cemetery of forgotten books. 

The part that stood out to me was that Daniel’s dad says, “This is a place of mystery, a sanctuary.” “Every book, every volume you see here, has a soul.” I found this meaningful and it made me think deeply about any book we read. It made me think about how each time I pick up a book from the library its spirit is growing. At the cemetery of forgotten books, Daniel’s dad told him to pick out one book and he ended up picking out “The Shadow of the Wind by Carax.”

The part that further intrigued me was when Barcelo told Daniel that he has the last copy of Carax’s novel. It made me wonder why the rest of the copies were burned and what is so special about this book that Barcelo is treating it like silk. Additionally, Carax going missing and people not knowing if he died or fled kept the storyline more interesting. However, the odd part here was Daniel’s interest in Clara who is Barcelo’s niece. I found this odd because she says she is almost twice his age meaning he is a minor while she is an adult. 

Apart from that, I believe each part of the book kept me hooked and I wanted to keep reading to see what happens next. For instance, the part where Daniel was standing on the balcony and saw a figure out in the dark who was non-chalantly smoking. Then he mentions that this exact scenario took place in the book by Carax; however, the figure in the book was the devil. It made me curious about who that figure could be and made me want to keep reading. Furthermore, when Clara would share with Daniel that a stranger questions her about him it made me question whether it could have been the same figure who was watching him on the balcony. 

Each part contributed to the bigger story and it keeped me hooked to the plot and it was something I really enjoyed reading. I can’t wait to continue reading it.

Discussion Question: What do you think is the significance of the Cemetery of forgotten books and why was Daniel told to keep it a secret?

Going into my reading, all I knew about Les Misérables was the blurb on the back – which promises a “spine-tingling chase” through the sewers of Paris! I chose to read the first chapter, called An Upright Man, (page 1-34) of the first section, called Fantine.

The story begins in a small Alpine town where a new bishop, Monsieur Bienvenu, has just moved in. He is immensely good: he gives up a large manor to exchange with the local hospital, which was too small for the number of patients. As the Alpine day draws to a close, a stranger comes to town, disheveled, dirty and furtive; this is Jean Valjean. He is turned away from the local inn, and spends all evening trying to find a place to stay. Just as he gives up to spend the night outside, a kindly woman points him to the bishop’s house.

Here, he is welcomed, given dinner and a clean bed. Though M. Bienvenu remains unaware, we learn that Jean is a convict. I was interested to learn his crime: he stole a loaf of bread to feed his sister and her seven children. This made me think of the question “what if you steal bread to feed your family?” I wonder if its origins come from this book. Part of being a French major has been learning about French bread culture (the French love bread), so it was interesting to see that element strongly in the first chapter.

We see how much suffering Jean endured for this loaf of bread – grueling labour for 19 years. But as he goes to bed, full and in clean sheets for the first time since his incarceration, he cannot get the bishop’s silver plates out of his mind. In the wee hours, he steals them and runs away.

The next morning he is brought back to the bishop by three gendarmes. Instead of an admonishment, the bishop gives him two silver candlesticks and sends him on his way. The silver, he says, “belonged to the poor. And who was that man? A poor man, evidently.” I found this extreme forgiveness and benevolence touching – M. Bienvenu seems almost too good.

Next, we find Jean alone on a mountain road, when Petit Gervais, “One of those pleasant and gay youngsters who go from place to place, with their knees sticking through their trousers” goes by. The boy drops a single coin – 40 sous – and Jean hides it under his shoe. The boy pleads and cries for his coin, but Jean does not budge. Finally, Petit Gervais runs off. Suddenly, as the coin glints up at him, Jean realises what he has done – with a backpack full of silver, he has stolen from a child. He runs after the boy, but to no avail: Gervais has disappeared.

“What a wretch I am!” exclaims Jean, and he falls into tears for the first time in 19 years. The chapter ends with his repentant return to the bishop.

I really enjoyed this first chapter! I found the language level harder than Bolaño, and much slower paced, which I did enjoy. For The Savage Detectives, I found I could read very quickly, while here, I had to plod (“plod” has negative connotations I feel – I plodded happily) through to make sure I didn’t miss anything. I enjoyed the historical distance between 2026 and the mid-1800s – references to carriages and millet seeds were lost on me – while also enjoying the timelessness of forgiveness, self-consciousness, and redemption. I am excited to see what Jean does with his second (maybe third?) chance.

For a question, what do you think about redemption as a theme in literature? Are there other stories that come to mind?

On Saturday I went out with a friend I’ve known for 12 years, with whom I only recently reconnected, after losing touch for 2 years. We ate at the Richmond Center food court. Moon asked me if I drink these days. Yes, but mostly just beer. No wine and cheese for the French major? Haha, no Moon, I guess not. I also like carbonate in my drinks, beer or Coca Cola as an occasional treat, it slows down the drinking, because it physically hurts you.

*Conversation at Iona Beach Park about carbonate

I thought our conversation fitted the general atmosphere of my chosen novel perfectly, so I used it as an incipit for my blog. In Conversation in the Cathedral, the main character Santiago runs into Ambrosio, old servant of his family, and in the Cathedral, a cheap diner where over beers they talk about fragments from Santiago’s youth, filling each other in on the parts the other wouldn’t have been aware of. This conversation makes up the entire book. The style of narration takes a little getting used to. As I parodied in the beginning: no quotation marks, names are inserted abruptly to indicate who is talking to whom. However, after the second chapter, you get the gist of it, and the increasing sincerity of the confessions and begins to draw you in. This rhythm coincides perfectly with a conversation over beers — the more you drink, the more you start to shed your dignity, perhaps trusting the other parties to be too drunk to remember what you say. In Chapter 2, which is about Santiago and his friend almost succeed in drugging and raping their fired maid Amalia, there is noticeably less description of his internal workings than in Chapter 6, about him joining the Marxist study group in university and his secret love for his friend and comerade Aida.

The depth and sincerity of the confession is what makes Santiago likeable, much more so than someone like Garcia Madero. Whereas Garcia Madero lets himself be swallowed by the Visceral Realist movement, Santiago constantly reflects on why he joined the study group, and the impurity of his intentions bothers him deeply: “not just the revolution, he thinks. Lukewarm, hidden, a heart too, and a small brain, alert, quick, calculating.” He did want to break with his family, his senator father, traditional mother, and ignorant violent brother. He did have a crush on Aida too, although he suppressed it until Aida starts to go out with their friend Jacobo. But most of all, he wanted to fill an emptiness in himself, and despite being a firm atheist, he does not consider himself too different from the devout Catholics around him. They just filled their inner emptiness with different things. The fact that he could face his own insincerity makes it easy to identify with him. The fact that he feels troubled by his impurity makes me want to call him an idealist, and I always find myself drawn to the idealist in a story. For this week’s discussion, I would like to ask you to introduce me to a character from your book whom you would call an idealist. What makes them an idealist? Do you like this character? Why or why not?

Drawing a comparison between the emptiness of the Socialist students and the devout Catholics, two polar opposite groups when it comes to politics, Marios Vargas starts to hint at the phenomenons behind why Peru is “fucked up”. I’m waiting for him to elaborate on the emptiness and connect it more directly to the state of the country.

My long book is Shadow of the Wind, by Carlos Ruiz Zafón.

Firstly, I would like to shoutout Amanda, who has done such a good summary of this first section of the book that I’m going to refer you all to that blog post instead of repeating the same thing here.

Otherwise, the TLDR of it all is: Daniel (age 10, in 1940s Barcelona) is sad because his mom died so his father wakes him up before dawn to meet some guy at a bookstore that he’ll one day inherit. He chooses a book (/the book chooses him) and becomes obsessed with it and its author.

I enjoyed the first section of this novel. It’s rather fast-paced and the tone is to-the-point, but the prose is nice to read and there’s a good mix of dialogue and introspection so far.

One of the first questions that came up for me while reading is the connection between the concept of the Cemetery of Forgotten Books (the name of the bookstore) and the relationship between Daniel, his deceased mother, and his father. It was mentioned early on that Daniel woke up one night crying, saying he couldn’t remember his mother’s face. When his father comforts him by saying he’ll remember twice as hard for the both of them, Daniel thinks to himself that his father won’t be around forever. I think we’re meant to connect here cemeteries (final resting places) of forgotten books, forgotten stories, forgotten people.

People make stories, and so I think Daniel forgetting these parts of his mother will come back around to mean something. If each shopkeeper of the Cemetery is called to a specific book to safekeep and remember for the duration of their life, there’s bound to be some metaphor growing here about people and life and death, especially with the book’s war themes. I’ll wait until I’m further into the book, until I have a more comprehensive perspective, before trying to outline this better.

Another idea I thought was worth noting from this first part (I misplaced the page number, but will comment below when I find it) was how it is characteristic of childhood to not understand something but still feel it deeply.  As the novel introduces war in a coming-of-age sort of trajectory, I wanted to highlight this sentiment, of feeling the repercussions of things you don’t yet understand and slowly losing your childhood innocence through the acquisition of knowledge.

I don’t know if anyone remembers the Inkheart series, a set of three children’s/middle-grade books fro the early 2000s, but this novel is giving off a similar vibe (energy) so far (albeit with more advanced/mature themes).