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Monthly Archives: February 2024

The Most Complete Incomplete Work I’ve Ever Read (If on a Winter’s Night a Traveller)

You are now reading a blog post of “If on a Winter’s Night a Traveller” written by Italo Calvino. Now’s the time to chill without any distractions. Focus. Clear your mind to the best of your abilities, and perhaps find a place where you can read in peace and quiet. And prepare to reply to this after writing your 400-500 word blog post about the same book earlier. Either you went to the UBC bookstore to get a copy of this or you have chosen to open up the pdf file on the RMST 202 website. Or you managed to find a very detailed summary somewhere on the web. Regardless, you feel ready to talk about this piece of literature with other readers.

You initially understand the contents of this blog post, but as it delves into the deeper analyses of the books as well as how all fragments connect to an author’s perspective on their writings, psychology, and a general larger picture – you lose track of the whole argument.

You then close your device in silence after staring blankly at your screen for a few moments. Maybe it’s a laptop, a tablet, a phone, a PC. You then proceed to wonder why you even bothered clicking on this blog post instead of someone else’s.

Let me just state my opinion on this: this book is utterly frustrating yet incredibly funny to read.

It’s like discovering a new TV series where each episode there’s a new story with a new set of characters and it always ends on a cliffhanger (with their true endings never to be found) – causing you to have an existential crisis why you even bothered to watch the next episodes when you know how they’re going to end. Whenever the Reader tries to read any book in the novel, there’s always either a publishing error or a supernatural force for the purpose of plot convenience (ex – like a certain book being banned in a country the Reader travels to) that prevents the Reader from ever finishing a book…

Which is honestly very clever, since it’s stated in the beginning where the Narrator warns us Calvino has a reputation for changing his style from book to book (which we can see in the books within the book, if that makes sense). From an author’s perspective, it is certainly a fun way to implement stories that you’ve worked on yet couldn’t finish. And from my experience, I’ve found it funny (and felt called out by it) because I have been guilty of doing the same in my writings: I constantly feel the urge to start new writing projects when there are multiple unfinished documents in my Google Drive collecting dust and crying to be finished. So sometimes I just have the idea to either repurpose certain details from an older draft or insert a paragraph as an excerpt of a book that a character happens to be reading.

I also think that the mini books can be a representation of people we meet in our lives. In some way, we meet and pass by acquaintances and classmates – where we only get to know a small part (or a chapter, some may say) about themselves before moving on. Nothing more. And in that case, rarely do you ever get to actually finish reading a book – because there’s always something more to discover about a person.

What are your thoughts on Calvino’s writing style, and how does it compare to your own? How did you feel about never knowing the true resolution to the mini books scattered throughout the plot?

Enduring Abuse (The Time of the Doves)

I remember expecting another coming-of-age story from “The Time of the Doves” (written by Mercè Rodoreda) when I first picked up the book, mostly because the last four (of five) books I read were all centered around this trope. So I was pleasantly surprised to find out that the novel focuses on something else entirely.

This time, we focus on Natalia – a young woman who despite already being engaged decides to pursue a relationship with some guy named Quimet (which was certainly one way to segue into the next scene). As time passes, we discover that Quimet is a very controlling person (and that their relationship is pretty dysfunctional up to his death in the Spanish Civil War (in which come to think of it, the majority of my blog posts were literally talking about dysfunctional relationships because of how much I enjoyed reading about them)).

The most noteworthy thing I’ve noticed throughout my reading is my constant irritation with Natalia’s lack of strength to defend herself in their relationship. But at the same time, it does make sense: Natalia grew up in an environment that taught her the man was in charge of the household. This is also where Quimet has taken advantage of it to some degree. For example, he refuses to call Natalia by her real name and only uses a pet name (“Colometa,” or “little dove”), which I feel dehumanises her and causes him to exercise more power over her. He is telling her that she will be how he wants her to be, not how she truly is. Even though Natalia has a job later on, she still has to come home and take care of her doves and family. Yet Quimet doesn’t really help her.

And when Quimet and his friends die to the war, I couldn’t help but pity Natalia when she is left with her children to face poverty and starvation. All her loved ones are dying, and she’s being left alone. As a result, she had planned at one point to do a murder-suicide with her children. So it was very fortunate that she was saved with a much happier marriage with a grocer in the end.

Her submission may be rather frustrating to power through, but ultimately, I have to give her kudos for her strength and resilience. The combined mental pressure stemming from war, many deaths of loved ones (including her father’s and husband’s), violence, hunger, and poverty has to be incredibly insane – and I expect a lot of people would have been driven past their breaking point at this.

If you were in Natalia’s shoes (think: deceased spouse with children to take care of in times of a crisis), would you do the same thing as she did and send your children away to a refugee camp? Or would you not be able to separate yourself from your children?

Concepts of a Comfort Zone (Deep Rivers)

In the process of reading Deep Rivers, I couldn’t help but take note of Ernesto’s sensitive character as he tries to make sense of the injustices he witness towards the Quechua people. Even though he was sent to a Catholic boarding school in the hopes that the education would help him integrate within white society, he prefers to stick with identifying with the Indigenous people since they were who he spent the happiest periods of his life with.

In fact, it was even stated in the text that he found the atmosphere of the boarding school to be quite oppressive. Ernesto’s innocence causes him to question things more frequently than his peers, causing him to be relatively isolated because of his willingness to question the norm. His friendships with schoolmates (like Antero) are even split apart because of their differences in opinion.

We can also see his suffering from the way he sees others treated, but finds solace in listening to Quechua music and remembering the places he has been in the countryside (to be even more specific, the rivers – hence the title!). His descriptions of the local birds and flora also implies him to feel a strong connection to nature. And it is likely that he has learned this reverence from the local people who have befriended him. By reading about his trips, we also get to discover more about Quechuan culture and folklore, which I’ve found to be very fun to read about. In other words, this is basically his comfort zone.

But even the comfort zone couldn’t distract him from his reality all the time. Personally, I felt very uncomfortable I read the part about abuse of the woman by the boys in the boarding school. The part where the unfairness of the political and religious structure to maintain their status quo was also written very well, and it still is a common argument regarding religion today (which causes Ernesto to understand the role of the church in oppressing the identity of the Indigenous people).

I’m also getting the impression that this book is autobiographical in a way. Since the author did make it his life’s mission to spread Quechuan appreciation to his culture, we can see his passionate stance on the Indigenous people in his writing (which also makes it extremely harsh in hindsight when Arguedas actually completed suicide under the stresses of clinical depression and frustration from the suffering the Quechuan people endured).

So my question would be was there any part about Quechuan culture in the book that you enjoyed reading about the most?

“The Most Functional Family” Award goes to… (Nada, Carmen Laforet)

Okay, let me just say this up front:

There isn’t a single universe where Andrea’s family would win that.

For context, “Nada” is a coming-of-age novel written by Carmen Laforet about an orphan who moves to Barcelona post-Spanish Civil War in order to attend university. She moves into her formerly-wealthy-but-now-poor grandmother’s apartment with several relatives: her grandmother (a very faithful Catholic), Aunt Angustias (a strict aunt), Uncle Román (a former musician), Uncle Juan (who isn’t a successful painter), Juan’s wife Gloria (a beautiful young gambler), and their child (who wasn’t named if I recall correctly). In addition to this, there’s also a housekeeper and a dog who live with them all.

With so many people living together in a run-down apartment when times are just hard after the Spanish Civil War – it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise that conflicts and drama constantly break out between them. Juan abuses his wife. Angustias constantly lectures Andrea and closely follows her footsteps. It’s a very happy family, you know? And that’s why it’s understandable when Andrea only finds solace when she’s away from them (especially when she befriends Ena and others from her university).

Yet, I’ve always found it peculiar that the concept of blood family is very important to society – even if the members are horrible individuals. Now, the idea of “family” can be defined in multiple ways. But the general defnition would be something along the lines of parents, siblings, and any others who are related by blood. As far as I know, this doesn’t always mean trust, love, or loyalty in a relationship. Blood may make someone a relative, but it doesn’t mean that they care in a way that’s best for you (for example, Angustias may want to mould Andrea into her own definition of an ideal citizen, but her methods are very discouraging and invasive). A family is not always what you think.

So what exactly is a family supposed to mean? I like to think that they’re the people who take care of you when everything goes wrong. Those who don’t judge or turn away, despite any differences in opinion or clashes in personality. Those who are willing to support you no matter what and help you out.

In a sense, I believe Andrea’s friendship with Ena has been more familial than her blood relatives. Ena did take care of her, invite her into her family and spend lots of time with her. Her friendship also did help her get opportunities for jobs, further education, and ultimately leave her life behind for Madrid.

How important is “family” to you and why? Do you think it’s something you’re born into, or something you choose?

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