Month: March 2026

Categories
Cercas

Who gets to be remembered?

This book has been quite a good read, in the beginning i thought it would be straightforward story about the Spanish civil war (which is knew nothing of). Not only does the book tell us about what happened during war, but it also shows us how difficult it is to know what happened in the first place.

It was quite interesting that the book revolved around one single moment; when a Republican soldier finds Rafael Sánchez Mazas hiding in the forest and chooses not to kill him. It’s such a simple decision, but it ends up carrying more weight than the war itself. Mazas survives, goes on to live his life, and becomes a known historical figure. But the soldier, the one who made the moral choice, completely disappears from history. That contrast really got me thinking about the history we know and how many influential figures we probably don’t even know about.

As Cercas begins investigating the story, I found myself getting pulled into his process. He interviews people, reads accounts, and tries to piece everything together, but the more he searches, the less clear things become. Everyone remembers things differently, and certain details feel exaggerated or incomplete. Even in the beginning with his interview with Ferlosio he says”I finally managed to salvage it, or perhaps I made it up”(17). It made me realize how much history depends on who is telling the story and how it’s told.

At first, Cercas seems focused on Mazas, but over time it becomes clear that Mazas isn’t really the point. He survives mostly by chance, not because of any heroic action. The real question becomes: who was the soldier who spared him, and why did he do it? This shift made me rethink what heroism actually looks like. Instead of something dramatic or widely recognized, it might just be a quiet decision that no one else ever sees.

I’m not sure if I’m reading too much into it, but when Miralles says, “The real heroes are born out of war and die in war”(197), it seems to explain why Cercas never gets a clear answer. If true heroes disappear within war itself, then they aren’t meant to be found or remembered in the way Cercas is searching for them. It almost suggests that the act of trying to identify a single “hero” misses the point entirely.

By the end, I didn’t feel like I had a clear conclusion, but I did learn about the Spanish civil war and my perspective had shifted. It made me think less about who becomes famous in history and more about the quiet, everyday decisions that never get recorded. It left me wondering how many important stories are lost simply because no one was there to tell them.

Discussion Question: Do you think the novel is more interested in finding the “truth” of what happened, or in questioning whether the truth can ever really be known?

 

 

Categories
Piglia

Money and Madness ahh book

Money to Burn was different compared to many of the other books we’ve read in this course. A lot of the earlier novels focused heavily on memory, reflection, and long internal thoughts, but this one moves through crime, police investigations, and action. It actually feels like a story unfolding rather than just a series of reflections. At times it almost reads like a true crime report rather than a traditional novel. The narrative shifts between different perspectives, police accounts, and conversations, which can be a little confusing at first, but it also makes the whole event feel much more real.

What stood out to me most was the strange mix of chaos and intimacy within the group of criminals. The gang escapes to Montevideo after the robbery and as the police begin to close in on them, they hide out in an apartment where most of the tension in the story unfolds. Even though the robbery is what drives the plot, the novel seems much more interested in the psychology of the characters than the crime itself.

The relationship between Dorda and Brignone was an interesting one to me. Their connection feels deeper and more emotional than the typical partnership you might expect between criminals. While the group is falling apart under pressure, the loyalty between them remains strong. At the same time, Dorda’s mental instability makes everything more unpredictable. His paranoia and violent outbursts create a sense that things are inevitably heading toward disaster. It felt like the novel was constantly building tension not just through the police closing in, but through the characters slowly losing control of the situation.

One of the most memorable moments in the book is when the gang begins burning the stolen money while they are trapped in the apartment. That scene really stuck with me because it completely changes the meaning of the robbery. They risked everything to steal the money, yet in the end they destroy it themselves. It almost feels like an act of defiance, as if they would rather burn the money than let the authorities take it back. In that moment the story stops being just about crime and becomes something more symbolic about power, rebellion, and the absurdity of risking lives for wealth.

Reading this also reminded me of when Pablo Escobar was on the run, and burned about 2 million dollar simply to keep his daughter warm . While the situations are obviously very different, the image of money being treated as something disposable felt strangely similar. In both cases, something that normally represents power and wealth becomes meaningless in a moment of desperation.

Overall, Money to Burn felt messy and intense but also real. None of the characters really come across as clear heroes or villains. Instead, it feels like you’re watching a group of people slowly spiral deeper into a situation they can’t escape. By the end, it didn’t feel like the story was just about a robbery anymore, but more about desperation, loyalty, and how quickly things can fall apart once everything starts going south.

Discussion Question:
Do you think the gang burning the money was an act of rebellion against the system, or was it simply the final sign that everything had spiraled out of control?

Categories
Duras

Trying to understand The Lover, i guess

To be honest, when I finished The Lover, my first reaction was something like… what exactly did I just read? Not in a bad way, but in the sense that the novel feels strange and difficult to pin down. The story doesn’t unfold in a clean, chronological way, and the characters themselves are hard to place into clear categories. Everyone feels morally complicated, and by the end I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to sympathize with them, question them, or both.

One thing I kept noticing while reading was how blurry the power dynamics in the novel are. At first, it seems obvious that the Chinese lover holds the power. He’s older, wealthy, and able to provide things the narrator’s family desperately needs. But the more the story continues, the less clear that dynamic becomes. In many scenes he actually appears nervous and emotionally fragile, while the narrator seems calm and detached. She knows exactly what the relationship means and doesn’t really try to hide the fact that she benefits from it financially. At the same time, she’s only fifteen, which constantly reminded me that she’s also in a vulnerable position herself. Because of that, it became hard for me to place either of them neatly into the role of “victim” or “perpetrator.” Both seem to exist somewhere in the middle i guess.

Another thing to point out was how easy it is to forget how young the narrator actually is. The voice of the story feels much older and reflective, which makes her sound more mature than a fifteen year old girl normally would. I caught myself thinking about her decisions as if she were an adult, and then suddenly remembering that she’s still technically a child navigating a complicated world.

If there’s one character I found much easier to judge, though, it was the older brother. Compared to the rest of the characters, he doesn’t seem to have the same kind of ambiguity. His cruelty toward the rest of the family feel constant, and the way the mother continues to protect him despite everything makes the household even more chaotic. You could argue that the family environment helped create him, but it still felt like he was one of the few characters who consistently caused harm without much reflection, unless i missed something about him when reading.

Overall, what stayed with me most about The Lover is how it refuses to give simple answers. The characters aren’t clearly good or bad, and the relationship at the center of the story never settles into one clear interpretation. Instead, it forces the reader to sit with the discomfort of those blurred lines. In a strange way, that might be the point. Real relationships and power dynamics are often messy, and this novel doesn’t try to simplify them.

Discussion Question: Do you think the relationship between the narrator and the lover is meant to be read primarily as exploitation, or something more emotionally genuine? Or is the novel intentionally refusing to let us settle on one answer?

Categories
Lispector

Invisible until the end

I don’t think I’ve ever read a book quite like The Hour of the Star. It’s not just the story itself that feels different, it’s the way it’s told. Half the time I forgot about the plot because Rodrigo, the narrator, keeps interrupting to talk about writing, about poverty, about whether he even has the right to tell Macabea’s story. It almost felt like I was watching someone wrestle with their own conscience while trying to write a novel.

And then there’s Macabea.

She was just so weird, like she doesn’t demand anything of the world. She doesn’t question her poverty. She doesn’t question Olimpico when he insults her. She doesn’t even seem fully aware that her life is small and fragile. She just… exists. Eating hot dogs. Listening to the radio. It made me uncomfortable because we’re generally used to protagonists who fight back or at least reflect deeply on their suffering. I guess at this point in the course i should’ve expected something like this.

At first, I found that frustrating. I kept waiting for her to have a moment of realization or rebellion. But that moment never comes. And maybe that’s the point. Not everyone gets a dramatic awakening. Some people move through life without ever being told they matter.

The fortune teller scene honestly broke me. For the first time, someone speaks to Macabea as if she has a future. She leaves glowing, believing she will marry a rich foreign man and finally be happy. That tiny spark of hope feels almost cruel in hindsight. Because right after that, she’s hit by a car.

And suddenly, that’s her “hour of the star.” The moment she becomes visible is the moment she dies.

Coming from a third world country that’s very poor, I couldn’t stop thinking about how society works like that. How many people live unnoticed until something tragic makes others pause? Lispector doesn’t give Macabea transformation, redemption, or even awareness. She gives her attention only in death. It’s devastating in a quiet way.

I also keep thinking about Rodrigo. Is he honoring her story, or exploiting it? He constantly reminds us that she’s insignificant, and yet he’s the one who decides to write about her. It made me wonder whether telling someone’s story is an act of compassion or control.

Discussion Question:
Do you think Macabea’s lack of self-awareness protects her from suffering, or does it make her even more tragic?

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