Month: February 2026

Categories
Rodoreda

The weight of survival again??

I’m seeing a pattern here with all these novels, the protaganists are just surviving every single god damn time and it’s always so emotionally heavy. The Time of the Doves left me feeling that emotional heaviness. Not because it was confusing or structurally difficult, but because of how quietly devastating it is. Everything happens slowly, there isn’t a clear turning point where everything shifts. Instead, we follow Natalia’s life as it slowly narrows under the weight of marriage, war, poverty, and expectation.

What struck me most was how gradual everything feels. Natalia doesn’t dramatically resist Quimet when he renames her Colometa. She doesn’t protest when the doves take over her home. She doesn’t declare her suffering when hunger nearly destroys her and her children. She absorbs it. And that absorption felt painfully realistic. Her life doesn’t collapse in one moment it kinda like slowly erodes.

The doves especially stayed with me. At first, they almost seem harmless, just one of Quimet’s strange obsessions. But as they multiply and invade every room, they start to feel suffocating. The smell, the noise, the constant presence, it’s like Natalia’s own identity is being crowded out. By the time the war begins, the apartment already feels like a cage to her.

Quimet’s death is another important moment to me.It isn’t written as a grand tragedy. It’s abrupt, almost muted. And what’s even more unsettling is that alongside grief, there’s relief. That complexity made the novel feel honest. Natalia doesn’t suddenly transform or become empowered. She just survives, just like all our protagonists in this course. Her second marriage to Antoni isn’t romantic or passionate, it’s stable. And in a world that has taken so much from her, stability becomes a form of mercy.

The final scene in the Placa del Diamant really felt like the emotional release the entire novel had been building toward. That scream she lets out, the one she seems to have been carrying for years, felt less like anger and more like the sound of finally letting something go. It’s not victory. It’s not freedom in a dramatic sense. It’s just release.

What I keep thinking about is how this novel centers survival rather than transformation. Natalia doesn’t become a radically different person. She doesn’t “find herself.” She endures. And maybe that’s Rodoreda’s point: for many ordinary women living through war and patriarchy, survival itself is an achievement.

 

When you finished the novel, did you feel like Natalia had gained something by the end, or mostly lost something?

 

Categories
Arguedas

Deep Rivers

This reading was probably the second hardest for me, after Combray. At times it felt very slow, but I understand that this pace was maybe intentional, to guide us through Ernesto’s perceptions, memories, and reactions to the world around him. I’m still not entirely sure how I feel about the novel as of now, but maybe writing this blog and taking some time to reflect will help me make sense of it more.

What stood out to me most in this reading was how deeply Ernesto feels everything, even when he doesn’t act on it. I think this is part of what made the pacing feel so slow. From the beginning, as he travels through the Andes with his father (which I really liked and found surprisingly wholesome), it’s clear that he experiences the world through sound, landscape, and emotion. Rivers, mountains, and songs feel alive to him, almost as if they carry history and memory within them. To me, this felt like the author’s way of connecting Ernesto to the Indigenous identity.

When he is later placed in the boarding school at Abancay, that same sensitivity becomes a burden. The school is rigid, violent, and deeply hierarchical, and Ernesto doesn’t fit easily. He watches cruelty unfold between students and from priests, but he rarely fights back. Instead, he absorbs it, which honestly reminded me a lot of Andrea in Nada.

Just like with Andrea I found myself wanting Ernesto to fight back or speak up. As the novel went on i started understanding that this silence of his wasn’t weakness it was awareness, he sees the injustice even when he lacks the power to confront it. I think this makes it more realistic as alot of the time we are aware of the injustice around of the world but all we can do is watch. A very powerful moment during this novel was the conflict involving the chicheras. Watching Indigenous women collectively resist exploitation feels like a direct contrast to the silence enforced within the school. That moment seemed to awaken something in Ernesto. It’s not that he suddenly becomes brave or outspoken, but his understanding of injustice develops and deepens.

By the end of Deep Rivers, just like with Nada there’s no clear resolution. Ernesto doesn’t escape his circumstances or win in any traditional sense. But he isn’t the same boy he was at the beginning either. He has gained some sort of moral clarity, even if it comes at the cost of innocence. To me, that felt like the heart of the novel, that growth is always a clear change on the outside. Sometimes it’s just learning how to see the world clearly without losing your capacity to feel.

My discussion question for this novel is, Just like Nada the novel doesn’t end with a clear resolution, do you find that frustrating or do you think its better that way.

Overall was a good novel but i kind of liked the previous readings more, 7/10.

Categories
Laforet

The Quiet Weight of Survival

Reading Nada felt emotionally heavy for me, not because of dramatic events, but because of how much is left unresolved. There is no intense plot pushing the story forward and no clear moment of triumph or closure. Instead, the novel feels like a reflection of real life, where things don’t always get better in obvious ways. Like many of the texts we’ve read in this course, Nada left me thinking long after I finished it.

Andrea arrives in Barcelona with hope, imagining university as a fresh start and a place where she could be independent. I found this part especially relatable, because that feeling of believing a new place will change everything is something many people experience, especially us students who came here from different countries. However, her excitement quickly fades once she begins living with her family on Calle de Aribau. The apartment feels suffocating, chaotic, and emotionally draining. Hunger, violence, and constant tension become part of her daily life. What stood out to me was how Andrea doesn’t respond with dramatic emotion, she mostly just observes. At first, this made her seem passive, but as I kept reading, it felt more like a survival tactic, it’s like she’d rather keep her self sane than fight it.

What unsettled me most was how normal cruelty becomes in the household. The shouting, manipulation, and emotional neglect are treated as the norm. Andrea rarely comments on how unfair or damaging this is, which somehow makes it feel even heavier. She doesn’t explicitly say it but it’s clear that everything around her leaves a mark. I found myself feeling frustrated on her behalf, especially when her own “family” is making her life a living hell.

Andrea’s friendship with Ena felt like one of the few moments where she could breathe. Being around Ena offered a brief escape from the chaos of her home and a sense of belonging. However, the imbalance between them is hard to ignore. Ena moves through the world with confidence and ease, while Andrea remains cautious and restrained. Their friendship is both comforting and painful, showing Andrea what freedom could look like while also highlighting how limited her own life feels.

By the end of Nada, Andrea’s quiet departure from Barcelona didn’t feel like a victory, but it didn’t feel like defeat either. It felt realistic. She doesn’t emerge transformed or enlightened, she simply leaves without losing herself entirely, I guess she just survived. Overall, Nada felt deeply personal in the way it portrays loneliness, resilience, and emotional exhaustion. Andrea’s story isn’t inspiring in a traditional sense, but it is powerful in its honesty and realism.

This was definitely a worthwhile read, 7.5/10. As for the discussion question,

Do you think Andrea’s quiet, observational nature is a form of strength or a limitation? Would things have been different if she pushed back?

 

 

 

 

Spam prevention powered by Akismet