So many things fill my cabeza upon reflection of this novel. The first thing I’ll mention is Amparo Ruiz de Burton (ARB)’s use of the word ‘unmolested’ on page 27 (in the edition I’m reading) or in Chapter III…when she mentions Darrell avoiding the travellers; that he is “think[ing] of home unmolested”. When I first read this, I chuckled thinking about when my husband and I arrived in Cuba the first time and he saw the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the hotel room door, finding it quite amusing to see the word ‘molestar’. Thinking back to what Jon mentioned in our first class, that there are examples in the writings that we’ll be looking at of Spanishisms brought to English and vice versa. Of course, ARB didn’t mean the English sense of ‘molest’ as we know it today; rather, the more antiquated definition to “pester or harass (someone) in an aggressive or persistent manner” https://www.lexico.com/definition/molest . If I didn’t have an awareness of Spanish, this would have been rather shocking appearance in the text, wondering where Darrell was that molestation (in the current sense) would be an issue.
My main thoughts are on the notion of liminality. I could go on for pages about this, but I will try to keep this as succinct as possible. ARB was a native Spanish speaker, writing in English. Yet there are some idiomatic expressions and syntactical structures used that demonstrate her Spanish knowledge as she applies her thoughts in an English context. Regardless of which language structures or thoughts originate, they culminate in this narrative as something we, the reader, can relate to—regardless of our experience with either language. That’s pretty amazing to be able to do that.
Liminality also comes into play about the ancestry/ nationalism of the setting of the novel. Don Mariano’s family has been on their land for some amount of time prior to the beginning of the story—when the land was part of Mexico. Then the Mexican–American War happened and suddenly the limits/ borders of each country changed. Even though Don Mariano’s property didn’t move, the national boundary did…so too did the governance, language, cultural and social norms, each of which have their own figurative limits. The landowners and residents had no say in this, yet it was their limits that were changing, at the will of someone else. And as we see, outsiders are now entering this space, without limit/ border/ boundary, and taking it as their own, because they can.
Anyway, those are my thoughts. I am most curious to see how liminality exists in our readings…limits re: identity, culture, beliefs, space. It seems to be a prevalent notion in Latin American literature.
That’s a good point about molestar/molested. Nice observation! It’s an example of a little kink that shows that the book’s apparent linguistic fluency is occasionally disrupted, revealing its context and origin.
Meanwhile, I’d love to hear more about what exactly you mean by “liminality.”
My apologies for not going into liminality more—I think this novel moved me more than I originally thought and I got carried away with it.
According to the OED, liminal means “[r]elating to a transitional or initial stage of a process” and “[o]ccupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold”. Further, the Dictionary of Stylistics by Katie Wales defines liminality as coming from the Latin meaning ‘threshold’ and states that it “first came to prominence in anthropology to describe marginal or transitional phases in rites of passage such as adolescence or betrothal in certain cultures”. Wales goes on to claim that the notion of liminality has “struck a chord in postcolonial theory, with its interest in the marginal and in studies of code-switching, where speakers move between different spheres of reference.
So what I guess what I mean is the sense of ‘inbetweenedess’ in the narrative thus far. The Don’s rights to his property are in an in between state: they were once his, as a citizen of Mexico, but then the imaginary line/ border changed and his property is now part of the US. This opens up a completely different set of thresholds for him and his family, not to mention the other folks for whom this change made an impact. Where their loyalties lie? Don Mariano wants to do right by the law. Does this mean he has given up on his Mexican identity? William Darrell and his thug friends simply plant themselves on Don Mariano’s land—crossing the threshold of what is the Don’s and claiming ownership. William Darrell himself broke with tradition as a Protestant by marrying Mary, a Catholic, and having to promise to raise his children in a church to which he does not belong. Clarence and Mercedes are pursuing their relationships on the cultural border between the two families. How far do these limits go? Who creates the limits? What makes someone a Mexican as opposed to an American; what is Don Mariano’s nationality? At what point is someone marginalised from the norm; what are the limits of norms and where does the margin begin?
OK, I got it. There will be much more of this as the semester continues!
Hi Craig,
Your first paragraph made me laugh, I think many people visiting Spanish speaking countries notice the word “molestar” and have the same reaction, at least my sisters did. You’re right, having a background in a different language (in this case Spanish) can be so helpful, especially in this specific class that is focused in Chicano literature. It’s also interesting to look back at what Spanish words she chose to use in this novel – why did she choose these specific words to be in Spanish, rather than English?
Hello Craig! I found your post very eye-opening. It went into the concept of liminality, one that I have yet to consider in the interpretation of this novel. It’s fascinating how the limits are ever changing in a way. Once the land belongs to Don Mariano, then the claim is removed, and then Clarence pays him under the knowledge that the land is his. The squatters rightfully ‘squat’ according to the law, and Clarence pays his dues according to the Law. One would think that the concept of liminality is subjective to the individual versus the Law. Or if not the individual, then what forces are behind these ‘permutable limits’? Are there really limits? I haven’t finished it yet, I am hoping the author provides an answer.