Cheers! (raise a glass of your favourite drinks pairing)

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At the beginning of this semester, I was hesitant to admit something: this semester I’ve read more books than I ever have in even a year. It’s somewhat embarrassing, but it’s also been a revelation. It’s shown me that I am capable of reading a book a week, even though I’ve always considered myself a slow reader. Surprisingly, I’ve managed this for eleven weeks straight without derailing my life or setting me back. Although many of these books do sit on the shorter side, they still present complex themes and language, with intimidating uses of time and narration (though discussed last Wednesday– what doesn’t in literature?)

Looking ahead, I hope to continue this momentum and aim to read at least another five books over the next few months. To some, this might seem like a trivial goal, but to me, I think it’s most realistic! 

This class has been an absolute delight. I’ve enjoyed starting my day with lecture videos over breakfast and actively participating in discussions the following day. One highlight was our exploration of “The Trenchcoat,” where we delved into character profiles as if we were part of the secret police. I anticipate taking another class with Jon in the future, especially if it follows a similar structure– like with contract grading and blog posts.

As for my favourite reads this semester, “The Book of Chameleons,” “Agostino,” and “The Shrouded Woman” stand out. I’ve already recommended these to friends and family. In fact, I am also seeking out purchasing copies of my own (since I chose to read all of the books on PDF instead– to save money and also weight in my bag). I know the prof feels deeply against this, but oh well, it worked for me! However, now that I know which I enjoyed… I am a little desperate to get my hands on their physical copies to have for my own. If anyone read the book of chameleons but doesn’t want their copy anymore… I know someone who would buy it off ya… just saying! On the topic of that book, winning a blog post award was an unexpected honour, validating the deep thought and consideration I put into my writing. However, I do regret not taking more risks with some of my posts. Perhaps in future courses I’ll have the opportunity to push the boundaries further. Regardless, I am quite happy with the posts I produced this term. I like to think that my questions and considerations were unique and fun. And let’s not forget the challenge of finding the perfect quote to start each post!

Anyways, I am really looking forward to tomorrow! I have adored reading everyone’s blog posts over the term. While we’re only required to read and comment on two, I’ve found myself devouring practically all of them each week. Some standout bloggers for me include Sean, Shan, Sam (seriously, the abundance of S names!), and Kendra.

My question to all of you is if you had to write a sequel/prequel to one of these books, which would it be and what would occur?

Fleabag in the Crowd

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“I can no longer read properly” (118)

I feel like this class has changed the way I read. I am not sure how, but I definitely think if you had handed me this book a few months ago, I may have just given up. So, perhaps our professor was correct in his presumption that the books aren’t getting easier, we are just becoming better, more equipped, readers. However, I scanned through some of the blog posts, and I think my partial enjoyment of this book is a very unpopular opinion. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t love this book or anything and don’t plan on rereading it or recommending it… but it wasn’t the worst or most confusing of the term for me. 

I thought the book was enjoyable enough in the beginning, though very odd. The middle (ish) around the 50-page mark when Owen’s perspective and the “Philadelphia” novel sort of took over is when I think the piece started to lose me a bit. It was tricky for me to decipher whether the perspective was from the young woman in New York, Owen, or the mother (the young woman but older). However, as further articulated in the video lecture, perhaps this juggling of identities is intentional, and the similarities between the two souls is more than mere coincidence. Perhaps in a sense they are one. By the end, this book won me back over. I think the last ten pages just flew right by, so I had to read them again. I loved imagining the mother and Owen encroaching on each other’s lives through the table. As the passages became more and more similar and shorter, it felt like a speed up… kind of like how at the end of a digital Solitaire match when you get towards the end the game will automatically solve the rest for you. The cards speed up to find their home and everything falls together for the victory animation to display. That’s how it felt for me at least. 

Anyways, what I actually want to write this blogpost about is Fleabag! If you have not seen the show, you should definitely go watch it… and perhaps skip this post because there will definitely be spoilers…. In 3….2…..1:

Okay, was it just me or did the life of the young woman remind anyone else of Fleabag? From the dry humor (which I loved in this book), to the startling mentions of casual sex and masturbation (I only use the word startling as I feel in media/life this is more of a taboo topic– especially for women), to the presence of ghosts. Further, the sexually charged female friendship she has with Dakota reminded me a lot of some suspicious scenes between Fleabag and Boo. Honestly, Dakota reminded me of Boo in so many ways. They are both very silly, their friend sleeps with their boyfriend (oop…), they have a pet that they love (Dakota with the cat), the list goes on. Another connection is that both Fleabag and our narrator are unnamed… or is the narrator named? I read this whole book but can’t remember if she had a name… that’s rather embarrassing haha. Let me know if I am wrong and she does have one. I have about a hundred more of these connections jotted down but I should cap this post soon. One last point: both Fleabag and our narrator seem to be “breaking the fourth wall.” I feel like when the narrator shifts to her older, present figure, she is talking directly to us, where when she is reminiscing, that is just the story playing out. Then, just like in the second season of the show, her inner thoughts are sometimes interrupted, or overheard, by her love interest. This is exactly what happens to Fleabag with the priest. I thought this aspect in the show was so cool the first time I watched it, and when reading this novel, it gave me the same feeling of awe. 

Question: If you have watched fleabag, did this book remind you of the show at all? If it didn’t originally– does it now? 

The Reality Catfisher — My Connections to The Book of Chameleons

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“I kept reading right to the last page.” (63)

As plainly articulated in this quote, I took in absolutely everything from this book. I adore this book. This is easily my favourite book for this class– perhaps my favourite book I’ve ever had to read for any class. Due to this… my blog post is extremely lengthy. I have split this into 6 nice sections though (one for as many dreams as are described in the book). Feel free to only read one of the 6!

The Avocado Tree
In the section “Illusions,” the gecko describes a scene of two boys imitating turtle doves as one climbs an avocado tree. The passage is aiming to indulge the reader into the greater idea that something that is a mere illusion when not known to be false is treated with as much respect and belief as a reality.

Although I adored this section for the powerful yet simple message it conveyed, to me, the imagery of the boy climbing the tree and the modality of the sentiment is what allowed me to feel such a connection.

Two summers ago, I had the opportunity to work abroad in Spain for a family. While there, I visited the family’s grandparent’s farm in which there was a large blooming avocado tree, ripe with fruit. The boys I worked for were too young to climb the tree to its height and reach the avocados, as the ripest fruits were at the top. However, as I am a self-labelled pro tree climber, this was a breeze. And in fact, collecting the avocados (43 to be exact) was one of my greatest highlights from that trip. As this was my first day on my new job (in a foreign country which I did not speak the language, climbing a tree I had never seen in my life, and working for a family I had yet to integrate with) I was terrified. However, climbing that tree (to the very top might I add) and passing down avocado after avocado, my fear was masked by my bravery. The kids idolized me on the car ride back from the farm, and the next day I proudly ate my harvested avocados. I think alike to how the leaves of the trees in the novel disguised the boys as turtle doves, the avocado tree in my situation disguised my fear as excitement. And perhaps, like how in this novel the lies often merge with the truth, my “lie” of preparedness soon became my reality.

Red Ants
In the section “Rain on Childhood,” Felix recounts his childhood, and specifically the death of his dogs. In this passage, he discusses fire ants. Although much more occurs in this section, and many of those other ideas stood out to me as well, I could not ignore my personal connection to this attack in specific. The day of my 5th birthday I was in North Carolina visiting my grandparents and uncles with my mom and brother. The trip had been a lovely success up until the fateful night. We spent the day riding my grandfathers’ tractor which I always loved. Then night came. I was out in my uncle’s yard playing with my brother when all of a sudden, I felt fire shoot up my leg, then up my other, then my arms, until I was fully ablaze. Not a real fire of course, as this passage is not about that– it’s about ants. Fire ants swarmed my little body and attacked wherever they could until all I could feel were tears freeing themselves from my horror-stricken eyes. My mom and grandma came to my rescue immediately and took care of me. Luckily, I did not face a fate similar to Felix’s dogs.

Now, did you believe this story? I believe this story. But do I know that this story is real? Do you know? No. Did I believe that Felix’s story is real? Did he believe it was real? Is it real? Is any of this real?

Well, I do know (or think I know) in my case that there is some truth to my story. I know that I was in fact attacked by fire ants, I know that it occurred at my uncle’s house, and I know I was quite young and that it was quite painful. I don’t know if I was five though, or if it actually occurred the night of my birthday, or if the birthday I was celebrating on that trip was my fifth. I also don’t know if this occurred in North or South Carolina, as my relatives live near the border (some on one side and some on the other). And do I remember the pain? No. But I have been told of this. I have been told of my tears and cries and scars on behalf of my mother, and I choose to believe her.

I think this is all rather fascinating though. Our memories are so often altered (whether slightly tweaked or entirely fabricated) and sometimes without even our knowledge. So, for those who choose to think that Felix’s profession is immoral, are we as humans acting immorally (though unconsciously) every day by rewriting our memories?

Great Grandfather
On the note of false memories, I would like to briefly discuss Frederick Douglass. This is a figure who is mentioned a handful of times throughout the novel as being the (fake) great grandfather of Felix. Last year I happened to read the Narrative Life of Frederick Douglass. So, when he was first mentioned in this novel as being related to Felix, I was quite speculative (knowing a decent amount of his life story). I didn’t remember certain details the same as in this book, yet who was I to recall greater than the author? I felt quite proud of my immediate speculations once it was clear that such relation was a mere fabrication.

However, I do think it is interesting that Felix selected Frederick Douglass to hold this prize role in his own personal family tree. As a professional creator of pasts, one would presume that Felix would preserve the finest of backstories for himself– the cream of the crop. Knowing this, I am curious, do you guys think that Felix’s actual great grandfather would find offence to his erasure and “upgraded” replacement?

I am curious as I too, in a sense, have replaced my great grandfather. My great grandparents got divorced many years ago, before even my mother was born. My great grandmother then remarried another man– I’ll call him Mac. My mom grew up calling Mac her grandfather, although her biological one was still around, and she would visit him often too. Growing up, I always thought of Mac as my true great grandfather (and I was lucky enough to still have him around up until a year or two ago). I remember once, when I was around 10, I went to visit my actual great grandfather. He was living in a care home and was at the end of his time. The curious thing is that I don’t think I quite understood who he was to me until years later. I thought perhaps he was a great uncle, maybe even my mother’s maternal grandfather? Yet no, he was what Mac was to me. He was a duplicate– and an underrepresented one at that. I worry at times that perhaps he felt excluded from my family, or even from my mind.

Suicide 
I am sorry that this may get a bit dark. I will try to keep it light! Yet as we know from this novel, with light there must be shadows. And even something so full of light, like Angela, can possess a darkness so deep that it kills. My uncle was one of these lights. A light so bright that its shadow had to be of the same depth.

In the section “My First Death Didn’t Kill Me,” the gecko is recounting his experience with suicidal ideation in his previous human life, and in particular, an incident in which he almost went through with this act.

I think I will always think about my uncle when suicide is mentioned in media, conversation, or thought. He passed away just over four years ago now. A fascinating aspect of this though is that it almost was not a fact to me. With just one lie from my mother, this may have never been a reality. In fact, for many people in his life (including his partner while he was alive) his death was the result of heart failure, or something mundane of the sort. Due to personal reasons, my grandparents thought it best to keep his way of death a secret. They wanted to take reality and warp it. I think to this day they still believe that for me, reality is warped like that– but no, I am aware of the truth.

Part of me wonders if this could somehow be the case for the gecko too. I doubt it is, but I think that re-reading this section under that lens, it alters my reading of it in a fascinating way. (If you imagine that at the end, he does in fact die, just no one knows… and instead his story is forged into some other, some happier tale). It’s all very interesting to me. Personally, I do much prefer the written ending to that story though– the light and hopeful one. The one that ends in dreams, in life.

Portugal
I am sandwiching here into my post a very small and comparably insignificant connection to this novel (as I am sure the rest of these make quite the heavy read). Basically, I thought it was super cool how the novel included reference to many other places in the world. This includes, but not limited to: Portugal. I didn’t really know much about Portugal at all until a week or two ago, as I am coincidentally planning a trip to visit there. While planning, I randomly investigated the island of Madeira, and less randomly, the city of Lisbon as well. Both places are mentioned in the novel (Madeira only once or twice I believe, but Lisbon amply). I am not sure why, but I just felt extra prepared for this novel having recently researched more about Portugal, and inversely, through reading this book I am now feeling more prepared and excited for my upcoming travels! I think it’s rather neat how things can feed into one another like an endless circuit.

Reality Catfisher
As one who has struggled a lot through my life trying to grapple with who I am, especially throughout my early teen years, this book spoke to me in a unique way– above all of the previously mentioned connections (far, far above). As someone who has always had a very active imagination, and as someone who used to not particularly like myself much (boo who… but all is good now!) I used to spend my time fabricating lives of my own. I would live in these realities often– coming home from school and living these lives by playing online games and telling myself I was gaming as someone else. I was addicted to such play pretend. At times I think I didn’t even know who I was– only the stories I fabricated. There was no real harm to this– or none charged with aggression (very similar to Felix’s position I like to think). However, these years of isolation from myself, and my addictive indulgence in what to me feels essentially like catfishing (though not the classic form) truly staggered my development I believe. I missed out on real connections, real hobbies, and honestly, just simple reality. I doubt I am explaining my situation all that well– but I think this is purposeful (as I am quite ashamed of this past of mine). In many ways, I wish this part of young me was simply erased, demolished, overturned, or overwritten. I wish I could ask Felix to write to me a fictional early adolescence (one rich of family, friends, and identity), but this is impossible. I must accept my current past, as it is cemented.

I sandwiched some more thoughtful questions into my connections, but I also have a very odd yet specific request. Unfortunately, my copy of this novel for some odd reason is missing page 155– a page which lies at the heart of the climax!! Please if someone could summarise this page for me, I would much appreciate it. I still understood this scene, and the book, but as a lover of this novel, I am greedy for any extra page I can get!

Reality to Burn – Piglia

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“you have fuck-all to do and so you read” (74)

That was me this past weekend. Well, not quite, I also had studying and work to do haha, but there was also lots of time to read.

As someone who typically shies away from thrillers or crime novels, diving into “Money to Burn” felt the most like stepping outside of my comfort zone so far this term. Surprisingly, I found myself quite invested with the narrative.

One habit I’ve noticed in myself, especially apparent while reading this book, is the tendency to speculate about potential diagnoses for characters. For instance, Malito’s germophobic tendencies (like washing his hands with rubbing alcohol) and ritualistic behaviour could suggest OCD, while Gaucho’s auditory hallucinations alludes to schizophrenia. Of course, I’m no professional, and these musings are merely observations on character traits and speculations.

During the lecture this week, we were prompted to consider the significance of the contrast between Piglia’s adherence to truth and his fictional additions. I found myself particularly intrigued by Piglia’s reimagining of real-life individuals as fictional characters. Further, I am keen to ponder the significance of Piglia’s portrayal of the criminals with clear connections to mental illness, despite never having met them. I can’t help but wonder if his emphasis on their personalities was influenced by bias surrounding mental illness. The erroneous belief that mental illness inherently leads to violent behavior is a prevalent misconception. It’s possible that Piglia’s portrayal reflects societal prejudices that place mental illness and criminality in the same box. However, it’s equally plausible that his characterization was driven by unrelated factors entirely. Perhaps there is some truth to this aspect too, and this was a correct depiction of the criminals’ identities. We will never truly know.

In a totally different direction, I want to discuss friendship within this book a bit, because to me it was very complicated and intertwined with other forms of relationships (whether those were transactional, romantic, or abusive). The homo-erotic friendship and love shared between Kid and Gaucho is one that I am sure comes to everyone’s mind. Their bond which is originally equated to that of twins is soon twisted to reveal a very different type of love. However, throughout the novel and the various shapes their relationship takes, it is evident that a love and friendship exists within the forms. Even though I did not condone a lot of Gaucho’s behaviour, I did feel quite awful for his backstory and especially the treatment of him after the Kid dies in his arms and he is then shot and beaten mercilessly. Throughout his life, the Kid is the one who is always there for him even when the rest of the world is abusing him, or beating him (whether metaphorically or not), but in the end, he has no one.

Another unique demonstration of a relationship/friendship are those held between criminals and Malito. It appears that he leaves quite the impact on those he meets and the friends he makes in the criminal world. For example, when Nando is caught and interrogated by the police, he really tries not to sing, because he considers Malito to be a close friend who had shared such profound ideas. Malito’s influence on Nando is quite great in my mind, as Nando claims that if they want this information they might have to kill him. Lastly, (since this is getting long!) the relationship between the main robbers (aka: Gaucho, the Kid, and Crowe Mereles) and Malito shows also a unique dynamic where the three look to him as a Godly figure, and perhaps a saviour. They turn to him for instruction and later fantasize about him saving them from the shoot-out.

I have much more to say and connections to draw, but I’ll leave it here. Anyways, I am curious, which relationship had the greatest impact on you when reading? Or alternatively, which dynamic seemed the most complicated to you? (But you are not allowed to talk about the one between the Kid and Gaucho cause that’s too easy (shush, I know I am being hypocritical hah!))

Random rambles of Violins and Lies(?) – The Trenchcoat 

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“Short, savory,… a brief but exquisite pleasure.” (202)

This book felt just like this quote. However, I feel like there’s a lot in this book that went over my head. For the first half, I was just trying to keep up with who was married to who and who all these random mysterious characters were (the kid, the learned one, the researcher, etc…) until I pieced together that they were all one. I might need to start watching the lectures before reading the books now haha! However, there’s something quite fun about reading a book and having no idea what’s going on until after I finish… allowing me to form my own wild ideas before discovering perhaps what’s actually going on.

First of said ideas was that I was curious about the subtle discussion of Jewishness. Perhaps it didn’t read as subtle for others, but to me, I thought it was rather brushed over. I can tell this is how Manea treated many aspects in this book—just casually mentioning large themes/motifs (or not at all) for the reader to pick up on their own. Personally, this setting made me connect a lot more to this story, as much of my family is Ashkenazi Jew and fled from various parts of Eastern Europe to immigrate to America. However, they fled far before World War ll, so it was interesting to see in this book how life may have been similar for my grandparents if they had stayed (not identical as they were not Romanian… but still). (Random side note: it made me laugh when they were talking about violinists at the beginning and how it wouldn’t matter what their nationality is so long as they are of Odessa Jew origin. I am not sure why but it reminded me of a story my grandma tells of my great-grandfather who was a well known (according to her) violinist back in Russia before he fled to America. Apparently he played for the Tsar? Wish I could fact-check this right now but it is far too late where my grandma lives. Anyway, the joke is that when he moved to America he lost all of his skills (but what actually happened is he just had to take on a new profession and got busy starting a family)). Wow, okay, I rambled on longer than the Kid did to Dina on the phone.

Speaking of Dina, I was a little suspicious about her. It almost seemed like the trenchcoat was something she made up as an excuse to see the other couples more/to prove an excuse to talk to them. I realized later that this is likely not the case, but as this has been a topic of discussion about previous works, I was curious if the trenchcoat was even real at all. For example, we discussed in Nadja if she herself was even real. I thought, could this just be a figment of Dina’s imagination? Or rather, could she be aware of its non-existence but just wanting something new and exciting to discuss so that her “friends” may think she is interesting for once. However, if that were the case—I have no idea why she would have made up a lie as simple as a left-behind coat. 

Anyways, after sharing my own rambles, I’d love to hear some of yours. What are some random thoughts/connections you had or theories that formed while reading that you later discredited (or realized to be still plausible)?

Life without sex and soccer creates… death? – Hour of the Star

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“The toothache that runs through this story has given me a sharp stab in the middle of our mouth.” (pg.1– in my version)

Okay okay, it actually wasn’t that bad– there were many parts that made me feel that way though. However, I think my discussion for this post will largely revolve around my curiosity of the dynamic that exists between the author (Lispector herself), the narrator (Rodrigo), and their created character (Macabea). I was quite confused when I started reading and the narrator wrote that if a female writer wrote this story about Macabea, they “would make it all weepy.” I was like… wait, I thought this was a book by a woman? Why would a women be promoting such a sexist point of view? This is when I started to realize that Lispector and her fabricated narrator Rodrigo, are very differently people. (Or who knows, perhaps Lispector holds these own internalized sexist ideals as well– perhaps this was simply a cause of her time… I am not going to be one to judge! Just trying to make observations).

Anyways, then I became very curious about where Lispector injects herself into Rodrigo.. but even more, where Rodrigo injects himself into Macabea. It is clear very early on, and is reinforced often throughout the book that Rodrigo does not think very highly of Macabea. He thinks she is awful at everything she does basically and is constantly insulting her. Additionally, he also seems to make comments about his own writing and skill– especially in his ongoing monologues. He reinforces this idea that he is not a skilled or trained writer, and that he is struggling through creating this story. Due to these beliefs he has for himself, I can’t help but wonder if part of the reason he is insulting Macabea so heavily, and why he creates her as someone with little talent is because he is feeling insecure about himself and is projecting that onto her character. Because he is insecure, so must Macabea. I don’t know, just a thought I had early on that I couldn’t shake.

Another tie between the three identities is their connection to one another through the lens of death. When Macabea dies/is killed off by Rodrigo (as he is her narrator), Rodrigo then himself begins to ponder his own death. Further, through doing some very brief additional research, I discovered that Lispector passed away the same year the book was published. I think this timing is rather fascinating, as of course, with Lispector dies Rodrigo (as he is her creation). So, in a sense, they all die together.

Additionally, tying my thoughts to the lecture video, I want to think more about how when people die they are allotted an “hour as a star.” To me, I interpreted this as a matter of attention. When people die, especially artists, there works become much more valuable, as they are finite– no more can be created. Due to this common phenomenon, do you guys think that the success of this book has anything to due with the occurrence and timing of Lispector’s death?

A random unrelated point that I want to mention is just how much this story reminded me of a movie called “Stranger than Fiction.” This is a movie about a writer than exists in the same world as her character, and he must find her in this wold and try to convince her not to kill him in her book– or else he will die too. (At least, this is what I remember from when I watched it a few years ago). Anyways, I am sure you can see the parallels between the two.

This is a bit longer that usually but that last paragraph was a little useless so I think it should be okay haha!

Is Quimet a Belieber? Time of the Doves 

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“Some things it was better not to say” (106) 

Unfortunately, I am going to have to disobey this quote as well as the famous saying “if you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything at all”… because if I didn’t say anything then I wouldn’t meet the contract ha! 

In case you can’t tell already, I personally did not enjoy this book at all. Maybe it’s a recency bias, but this might have been my least favorite so far? I am not saying it’s a bad book! It just was not my preferred style. In fact, I think this book was quite brilliant, just not enjoyable. From right at the beginning, I felt an uncomfortable sense of urgency and chaos from Rodoreda’s writing style with her excessive use of the word “and” (I am estimating an average of ~25 times a page!) Further, her constant repetition of ideas and facts, like her mother being dead in the first few pages and much later in the book, her various struggles with managing motherhood, work, the doves, and surviving in the time of war. These circles of comments induced excessive stress in me for some reason, and just gave me a headache if anything. While yes, this ability of Rodoreda is quite impressive (to elicit such a response in a stranger just with written work) — alike to Moravia’s ability to create such discomfort with his “Agostino”– as the one experiencing the negative symptoms, I was not a happy reader. 

Another reason I did not particularly like this book was the characters. I am inclined to say that I did not actually like a single character. I felt bad for characters (like Natalia left widowed) and I found certain characters amusing (such as Quimet’s mom and her obsession with bows), but there was no true character that I liked. This seems to be somewhat of a trend in some of these novels, but I think this is the first where I truly did not get won over by at least one perspective. For example, even Natalia had me upset at many parts throughout the book. I found it so frustrating to read her hitting her children, especially when it was for no reason.

Don’t even get me started on Quimet too. I hated him right from the beginning and his behaviour had me both confused and frustrated in every scene. The worst was his hypocrisy. He is constantly telling Natalia not to do things but then does them himself. For example, he is always furious when she brings up Pere, even when it is not her fault. However, he feels more than justified to compare her to “Maria” and flaunt her name at any given opportunity. Maria, Maria, Maria… Quimet, don’t you know “that ain’t [your] baby girl”?? – Justin Bieber

One thing I found very interesting while looking through all the blog posts was just how much it seems everyone enjoyed this book (except me…). Honestly, I began to doubt myself… Did I even read the correct book for this week? But alas, I did. So, my question for you all is, if you did enjoy this book (as it appears the majority did), what made it so amazing? What is it that I am missing, this appealing aspect that I’ve seemed to have ignored?

I am very open to being proved wrong and welcome it!

“Black Christ” – Black Shack Alley

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“Long was my sorrow” (147) 

This phrase echoed my feelings as I delved into Zobel’s grabbing narrative of injustice and resilience within the confines of Black Shack Alley. This piece intricately weaves together the lives of its characters, immersing me into a world where inequality and tragedy thrive, and many are left behind. Although I found this book to start a bit slower than some in the past—such as “The Shrouded Woman” or “Agostino,” my investment in the story grew as the book went on, and by the end I was mourning M’man ‘Tine alongside José.  

One of the most striking aspects of Black Shack Alley to me is the ingrained racial roles depicted within the characters, and at such a young age. José’s astonishment at seeing a white man treated with the same torture as black individuals (50) highlights the pervasive nature of racial discrimination in his society.  Something particularly powerful about this scene and the message behind it is that the statue José views is a depiction of Jesus—a figure immensely respected and valued by people all over the world. However, another man who is forced into a similar fate, such as Mr. Medouze (and many other black individuals before and after him) are simply forgotten. This truly displays the disparity in how suffering is perceived based on race, including the dehumanization of black individuals and the selective empathy of society. 

Another aspect of the book that struck a heartstring for me was the dynamic between M’man ‘Tine and José. It is clear throughout the book that M’man ‘tine desperately wants to protect José and prevent him from living a similar life of oppression and poverty. Even when she beats him, it is an expression of her love (whether it is the right behaviour or not). She wants him to be strong, good, and disciplined. José leaving the plantation life means everything to her. Her narrative serves as a window into the harsh realities faced by the older generation within Black Shack Alley, shedding light on the struggles and sacrifices they have endured. Even though slavery has been abolished by this point of her life, M’man ‘Tine’s situation seems only marginally improved. She still works herself to death on a plantation, as highlighted in José’s perspective. At the end of the book, when she falls ill and passes away, José imagines the plantation consuming her. This image made me quite frustrated, as well as devastated. Although José was able to escape the same fate, not many others in Black Shack Alley are as fortunate. 

Throughout this book I was pulled in and out of various emotions, mostly those with a negative valence (sadness, frustration, disappointment, grief), but with some spurts of joy splattered in from the lively community. That said, I am curious to know which emotions took over during your reading of the novel, and at which scenes were these emotions the strongest?

If “Mid90s” was “Mid1900s” – Agostino

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“I’m going to read this book” (92)  

This is a line I muttered to myself often while reading this book, almost as a chant to regain the energy to continue on even after cringing from disturbing line after disturbing line. That said, this was still one of the most enjoyable reads in my opinion… oddly enough.  

I appreciate the more straightforward writing style, a stark difference to the previous surrealist texts of Proust and Breton. Further I enjoyed the more obvious alluding (as compared to the style of Bombal, which had me guessing about Ana-Maria’s pregnancy throughout). That said, perhaps this prose would have been less disturbing if I had not known the extent of the troubling acts within. 

I am sure many other students will discuss Freud and the Oedipus complex, as I too jotted this down (on the first page after just reading a few sentences)! Additionally I am sure there will be extensive discussion on the long list of questionable topics brought up (I too have much to say, but I’ll save it for class!)

Anyways, I wanted to touch on what this book reminded me of throughout, as my mind jumped from place to place of what this reminded me of. Of course at the beginning, this tale reminded me of that of Oedipus. The odd sexualization of his own mother made me feel quite weirdly towards Agostino. But then by the time we were introduced to Renzo, I almost felt bad for the boy—having to be in such an awkward situation with his mother. Then as we are introduced to Berto, I couldn’t help but connect the story to that of Disney’s “Luca” (a coming of age story about two Italian boys/sea monsters). However, this line was quickly erased after Berto revealed his cruelty. Then when Agostino is introduced to the group of boys, it reminded me of the Lost Boys in Peter Pan—but again, only for a minute (before the cruelty began). My mind then jumped to “Lord of the Flies,” especially when they are in Rio.  

Towards the end of the book though, as Agostino lost “his original identity without acquiring through his loss another” (78), I settled on a connection to the movie “Mid90s.” This movie follows the life of a 13 year old boy who joins a group of skaters in California. He tries to escape his troubled home life to be with these older teens, alike to how Agostino wishes to escape his mother. Honestly, I don’t remember this movie too well, as it has been years since I’ve last watched it, but I am sure this is a decent comparison. There is also a scene in that movie where the main boy goes to a party and has sexual relations with an older teen girl, which is comparable to Agostino attempting to pay for sex.  

My question is: what came to your mind as you were reading? And by the end, which tale was this most reminiscent of for you?

Shrouded woman, shrouded woman, shrouded woman—sorry, Bombal and I like repetition!  

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“the day burns hours, minutes, seconds” (177)

Similar to the “day,” I found that this book seemed to burn hours, minutes, and seconds of my time whenever I went to pick it up. Each time I just couldn’t put it down! When comparing this piece to Combray and Nadja, the three are almost not even comparable (since I enjoyed this one THAT much more).  

One major aspect of this book that I picked up on was the repetition. Bombal loves certain words and phrases and often makes reference to them multiple times throughout the book (including the quote I began this post with). Some certain words that stood out to me were: remember, come, falling, candles, and lastly, breasts. The frequent mention of breasts was one that definitely caught me off guard, as it is not a word I commonly see in literature, especially not used so liberally. 

Aside from the repetition, which I did quite enjoy (as it allowed me to connect new scenes to old ones that used similar language or phrasing), I also absolutely adored the rich descriptions and metaphors. I just think that Bombal writes so beautifully, many lines I would find myself repeating out loud after tracing them with my eyes, just to process them further and consider how I would feel hearing such beautiful ideas out loud. This all probably sounds quite cheesy, but it really is how I felt! One part that touched me especially was the death of Silva and gaining Maria Griselda’s perspective on her own beauty. I truly felt myself feeling bad for her, but also, unfortunately, understanding the reasoning of the actions of her parents and those around her.

That said, one downside of this book was just how confusing the entanglement of family members and relationships were. I wish the book came with a family tree or love diagram built in! Even by the end of the book I am not sure I even fully grasp what the bigger picture of the web of characters is, but I tried my best to draw it out haha! 

I have so much more to say about this book, so many sections that humoured me, endless lines that touched me, and many words that still ring in my brain. I wonder though, was all of this repetition intentional, or maybe just that there are certain words that Bombal was drawn to? Do you think that her repetition of the words “remember” and “come” was purposeful? If so, what do you think she wanted to highlight or succeed in with this repeated use?