Tag Archives: Modernism

Week 11, Cercas, “Soldiers of Salamis”

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Reading Javier Cercas’ Soldiers of Salamis was filled with many different emotions.

At first, reading about Cercas’ – the narrator – detachment from his literary career made me sad. However, upon quickly realizing that he had found a new impulse to write again, I felt excited for the narrator. This quote in page 55 resonated to me:

“[A]fter almost ten years without writing a book, the moment to try again had arrived” (55).

Until this point, I did not know the legitimacy of the narrator’s story; I knew it was Cercas, but I didn’t know if this was “imaginary” or “real” (as in real life). However, that had no effect on the empathy I felt towards the narrator.

Reading the “Part Two: Soldiers of Salamis” was a little “drier” compared to the story on how the narrator “Cercas” wrote the book itself. It was an engaging war tale; however, it had a very strong “autobiographical” or perhaps “non-fiction” feeling within it. What compensated for this “dryness”, though, was the context of how this story was created by Cercas. Throughout the whole book, Cercas goes through constant processes of validation. For example, when Cercas received Sanchez Mazas’ diary from Figueras, Cercas stated to have a suspicion “which insidiously crossed my mind as I read, that the notebook was a fraud, a falsification contrived by the Figueras family to deceive me, or deceive someone” (65). In response to his suspicions, Cercas seeks for and obtains documentary proof. As such, I think it was this process of validation which gave Cercas the motivation to write again. Cercas continuously made hypotheses of what could have happened; using his imagination and fragmented testimonies, he tried filling in the gaps between what was known and unknown about the moment Sanchez Mazas’ life was spared. It seemed like he was attracted to this process, feeling satisfaction and enjoyment.

Finding Bolano in the last third of the book was pleasant; it was nice to see a known name, so unexpectedly. One quote about Bolano resonated:

“Bolano felt profoundly sad, not because he knew he was going to die, but for all the books he’d planned to write and would now never write, for all his dead friends, all the young Latin Americans of his generation – soldiers killed in wars already lost – he’d always dreamt of resuscitating in his novels and who’d now stay dead for ever” (176).

I was quite moved by reading Bolano’s vision to write “for all his dead friends”, to keep the dead Latin American soldiers alive by his memories, books, and the history that he recreates. It reminded me of Auxilio Lacoutoure; it seems like Bolano himself felt the pressure of this “mission” to keep the dead Latin Americans alive through his remembrance.

Cercas and Miralles also seem to share this “mission”. An inspiring statement on 236 exemplifies just that:

“He remembers for the same reason I remember my father […] he remembers because, although they died sixty years ago, they’re still not dead, precisely because he remembers them” (236).

This re-creation, or continuation of the dead, through memory, is a very emotional topic. I think anyone can relate to this idea, regardless of how accurate or misleading the contents of this book are.

Question: Do you think Miralles was the soldier who spared Sanchez Mazas’ life? Or was it not him, like Miralles himself said? Or does it not matter?

Week 10, Bolaño, “Amulet”

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“All she, and Bolaño, can do is ensure that the echoes of their song, the traces of that generosity and courage, endure as both promise and warning.”

This statement from Professor Beasley-Murray, for me, was a very precise one-sentence summary of the meaning behind Roberto Bolaño’s Amulet. Indeed, this story seems to be the living history of the student movements of 1968; beyond magic realism, which more or less covered up the realities of oppression and violence, Bolaño’s Amulet realistically portrays the memories of 1968 Mexico.

When I was reading the book, I noticed that the book had an interesting portrayal of temporality; in other words, I felt that Auxilio Lacouture’s life wasn’t confined to the natural movement of time (the order of past, present, and future). It seemed as if Auxilio’s thoughts were the drivers of time, and that the change of temporality in the book was a representation of the dynamism of Auxilio’s thoughts and memories. As such, the concept of time in this book was (and still is) so confusing to me. One passage that really made me feel as such is in page 32:

“[T]ime folded and unfolded itself like a dream. The year 1968 became the year 1964 and the year 1960 became the year 1956. […] I started thinking about my past as if I was thinking about my present, future, and past, all mixed together and dormant in the one tepid egg” (32).

Here, past, present, and future are intertwined within Auxilio’s thoughts (or dreams). Although mostly confused, I did feel a connection between this interconnected nature of temporality with the idea of the “birth of history”. My personal view on history is that it is the past, present, and the future. Mostly we view history as the past, but our analysis in our present is what makes it a history of the past, and we ultimately make predictions of the future based off of that historical analysis. I think something similar can be said about Bolaño’s Amulet. It is about an event of the past, however, it is revisited (though not quite analyzed, in a historical sense), recollected, and narrated with an aim to affect the future. In Amulet, Auxilio is the history of the event that happened in 1968; she is the living reminder of the “song of war and love” (184).

At first, I felt like Auxilio’s statement that she was the mother of Mexican poetry was a joke or an exaggeration; how could an unstable (referring to her lack of work) Uruguayan, a marginal outsider, possibly be the “mother” of Mexican poetry? However, I realized what this statement actually meant, in page 177:

“No, I’m nobody’s mother, but I did know them all, all the young poets […] of Mexico City, or […] other parts of Latina America and washed up here, and I loved them all” (177).

I ended up agreeing that Auxilio was truly the mother of Mexican poetry, the mother of the poetry that got washed up in blood before it was written on paper. She witnessed the sufferings, suffered herself from witnessing and living with the memory of the sufferings, and ultimately endured to keep the history alive.

My question: How did the unique portrayal of temporality affect your reading? Did this make you feel as if the story was being narrated in a different realm? Did it confuse or distract you at all?

  • PS. Sorry my blog is a bit over the 500-word limit. I used some long quotations this blog, so I had to exceed the limit by a little to add in more of my own thoughts. Hope that’s okay.

Week 8, Perec, “W or The Memory of Childhood”

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While reading Georges Perec’s W or The Memory of Childhood, I specifically felt parallels with “Combray”. In “Combray”, the narrator reflects on his past, with the perspective he has in his present; in this way, his reflection of the past reconstructs his present, and offers a change to his future. Similarly, in W or The Memory of Childhood, Perec recollects his memories of the past, the memories that have “many variations and imaginary details [Perec] [has] added in the telling of them”, altering or distorting them greatly (13). However, the main difference I felt was that Perec didn’t seem to have a “progressive realization”. Perec, regarding writing about the memories he had with his parents, stated, “fifteen years after drafting these two passages, it still seems to me that I could do no more than repeat them: […] it seems to me that I would manage nothing more than a reiteration of the same story, leading nowhere” (41). This statement helped me realize that Perec wasn’t necessarily seeking for something (ex. For a change) through writing. In fact, he establishes a unique environment where temporality isn’t divided up into hierarchy. In his writing, past and present seem to have equal values; the possible inaccuracies of his memories don’t seem to affect his writing and recollection of the past.

When I first read the title of this book, I had wondered what relationship “W” and “the memory of childhood” had. Although I’ve been thinking of this mysterious relationship throughout reading the whole book, I feel even more confused and fragmented after finishing the book. Thankfully, watching this week’s lecture helped me bring a new perspective to this matter, that perhaps this unresolved question, these “compilations of fragments”, were indicators of the author’s post-modernistic narrative. I also found parallels of postmodernity in the description about W. W was characterized by specific sets of laws and methods that maximize the competitiveness of athletes; at first, these laws and methods almost seemed like the ideological background of W’s political system. However, throughout most of the later parts of the book, these methods are attacked and doubted. In one example, the description stated, “the problem with this method is obviously the risk that […] it will emphasize the differences between the contestants and produce in the end a kind of vicious circle” (92). This narrative, which attacked a method established within W, seemed very close to Professor Beasley-Murray’s description of postmodernity, a “competing claims to legitimacy and truth”.

To close off my blog, I would like to ask a question: Many parts of Perec’s autobiography consisted of a childhood story of which Perec admitted to have “made up” or “distorted”. Did this affect your reading at all? Do you think this affected the reliability of Perec’s narrative?

Week 5, Moravia, “Agostino”

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Reading Moravia’s Agostino brought me a new perspective towards the transition between youth and adulthood. While I was trying to empathize the situation Agostino was going though, such as him witnessing his mother’s relationship with the young man, I could not understand – by heart – what Agostino could have felt in those moments. In this way, I felt quite attached to Agostino’s thoughts; I did not have any prejudice or bias towards the scenes he was witnessing, so it was easier to perceive – as information – what Agostino was feeling.

What really stood out to me was how Moravia depicted the change of Agostino’s thoughts and perspective towards his mother. In the early parts of the book, where he first saw his mother “let herself fall awkwardly into the arms of [the young man]”, Agostino was confused of why his mother would indulge in a “feminine clumsiness” (11). Then, as he learned more about adult sexuality from the boys at Vespucci beach, his initial misunderstanding turned to “complicity, curiosity, and mug, glum approval” (47). This initial change of thought and perspective was weirdly understandable; I could not relate to it because I did not go through the same thought process nor achieved the end product similar to Agostino, but I was able to follow this change of thought without denying it. Furthermore, it was interesting to see the instances where Agostino had to hold back what he truly wanted to say to his mother, showing how there was that ongoing conflict between his innocent youth and emerging early adulthood. For instance, Agostino wanted to shout to his mother, “cover yourself, stop showing yourself to me, I’m not who I sued to be” (69).

Although it was tempting to view Agostino in a psychoanalytic perspective, I chose not to do so. The reason for this goes back to Aragon’s obsession over sensuality. Agostino’s story, which was a short instance of his much wider life, was full of new sensations; it was almost as if Agostino was piled up by new stimuluses that he could not resist but pursue. In this way, Agostino let his sensual experiences guide his thoughts, rather than rationalizing everything. Therefore, I respected this “pursuant towards sensuality” and decided to follow along the same line; I, too, focused on understanding Agostino in regards to sensuality, rather than logical rationalization.

To conclude my blog, I’d like to end with a question: Moravia, intentionally or unintentionally left out big gaps on Agostino’s life; his regular day-to-day life, as well as his previous relationship with his father. How do you think his regular day-to-day life would have changed, after his summer instance? Also, it was told that his relationship with mother had changed. How about the metaphysical connection he must have had with his father? Do you think his attitude towards his deceased father would have changed?

Week 4, “The Shrouded Woman”

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Reading Bombal’s The Shrouded Woman was a fascinating experience. Not only did it create a unique perspective that I had never even dreamt of, but it also facilitated a metaphysical environment for me to reflect on my own life.

I truly enjoyed the fact that the narrator was a dead person. Although I highly doubt that what happened in the story happens in reality, it was fascinating to read Bombal’s creativity in this matter. Speaking of creativity, I believe Bombal successfully “created” an authentic world in her book. In other words, she created an environment in her book where all the characteristics of the world were derived from her creativity. In this way, I view Bombal’s book as a fictional literature that is “real” in itself. In addition, I was heavily impacted by the perspectives of this book. While following the Ana Maria’s reflections of her past, I, too, reflected on my life so far; I reflected upon the relationships I had, my actions in certain situations, and how I could have been perceived by other people. The fact that Bombal’s book affected me in this way shows that it was “real” in its own sense. It created concrete effects in my life, giving me a new perspective to view my own life.

Another notable characteristic of Bombal’s book was how the role of women was depicted. Before reading the book, and during the first sections of the book, I had a strong expectation that this book would depict women to be inferior and “controlled”. Part of this initial expectation proved right, as the women of the story seemed to have limited opportunities in any department of life than men had. For instance, Ricardo went abroad for his studies, whereas no other women did the same. However, the way women were portrayed, at least in the case of the narrator, was against this prejudice of women being inferior and “controlled”. This is especially in the case of Ana Maria, the shrouded woman. Following Ana Maria’s reflections, it almost felt as if she had superior wisdom than any other people who were living. Ana Maria shows acceptance, sympathy, and pity towards the people who had hurt her in her life. She depicts the sorrowful events of her past as something silly and childish. Perhaps this also shows a separation between life and death; the wisdom we could only gain through death. For some reason, however, this “superiority” of the narrator being in an extraterrestrial realm made me perceive a sense of superiority of women. Moreover, this understanding was strengthened after reading about Maria Griselda’s prominence.

To finish of my blogpost, I would like to ask a question: Ana Maria freed herself from her “terrestrial anxieties” through reflecting and evaluating the relationships she had and how those relationships affected her life. Do you have any “terrestrial anxieties”? Where do your “terrestrial anxieties” come from? How do you think you can free yourself from them?

Week 3 – Aragon, “Paris Peasant”

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Reading Aragon’s Paris Peasant felt like a brain workout at one hand, and an imaginary escape at another. With a conventional bias, I struggled to find the “plot” of the story, like many of my peers reading this book. I constantly searched for a plot; however, in the process of doing so, I realized that I was characterizing the idea of a “plot”. I realized that I shouldn’t be looking for something in the book, but to absorb whatever the book was throwing at me. In this way, Aragon’s way of writing felt quite similar to Proust’s Combray; both authors reflect on memories associated with specific areas. However, whereas Proust focused on conveying the everyday experiences the narrator had with his family, at least in the first section of the chapter, Aragon focuses on his particular thoughts and opinions that were derived in the Passage de l’Opera. For example, after giving a great description of the Passage de l’Opera, Aragon quickly turns what specific thought he had regarding Hotel de Monte-Carlo, Librarie Rey, the passage’s concierge, Café du Petit Grillon, etc. It was particularly interesting to read the section about exportation, especially because Aragon inserted pictures of authentic signs and newspaper articles for reference. This whole section about exportation, from page 24 to 32, even seemed like a story in itself. Aragon’s description of the struggles faced by whom he called “tomorrow’s victims of exportation” really engaged me in the section of the book, and almost brought out a sympathetic emotion.

Aragon’s attitude, especially in the first pages of the book, also showed similarities to Proust. Particularly, this quote grabbed my attention:

“Humanity’s stupid rationalism contains an unimaginably large element of materialism. This fear of error which everything recalls to me at every moment of the flight of my ideas, this mania for control, makes man prefer reason’s imagination to the imagination of the senses” (9).

This quote showed Aragon’s perspective to focus on his senses and be limitless in his imagination; it showed his interesting perspective that errors, especially those that are caused by sensual imagination, can provide a unique insight that nothing else than itself could provide. Perhaps this attitude can be described as “modernistic”; it challenges conventional habits and beliefs suggests a new approach. Much as his writing style being unlike a traditional novel, his thoughts seem very unique and new as well. Aragon’s focus on sensuality is further shown when he writes about hairdressers and sensual pleasures (44-45). Lastly, starting with “A Feeling for Nature at the Buttes-Chaumont”, Aragon’s thoughts seem to deepen, with heavier ideas of surrealism and temporality are shown.

To finish my blog, I would like to end with a question: What kind of attitude do you think Aragon has toward modernism? Does Aragon seem hopeful for the new changes modernism can bring? Does he seem to be against modernity, as it poses a risk that “what was known until today could be completely gone tomorrow?”

Week 2 – Proust, “Combray”

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Reading Proust’s “Combray” was such a delightful experience, especially thanks to his wonderful use of descriptive language. One line that quite amazed me was this: “[…] she derived from this very constraint one more delicate thought, like good poets forced by the tyranny of rhyme to find their most beautiful lines […]” (24). The simile that was used in this line relates two quite complex ideas in such a meaningful way. As such, Proust’s use of imagery didn’t feel natural; it didn’t feel like what seemed to be the “norm” of most novels. However, it certainly was attractive and effective. Proust’s exceptional use of literary devices helped me engage into the reading not as a “reader”, but as an active “participant” of the story; I wasn’t reading to gain information but was reading to experience the story. Similarly, I felt that Proust’s writing style itself was quite revolutionary; sentences are unprecedentedly long, and commas appear very frequent. In fact, Lydia Davis, the translator of this book, stated in the introduction that Proust required long sentences as “[…] a long sentence contained a whole, complex thought, a thought that should not be fragmented or broken” (17). Reading this quote, I realized that it was not just Proust’s writing style that was revolutionary; his whole thought was.

Perhaps my use of the term “revolutionary” can be known as the “modernistic approach”, or “modernism” in general. Although the reading itself looks back to the past, it has a strong modernistic approach built within it. Proust attempts to reconstruct the past with his modernist views; he does not just reflect on what happened in the past, but he reflects on it with his ideas and beliefs of the present. While attempting to relieve the delightful joy that came with the taste of tea and madeleine, the main character (who is known to be a representation of Proust, himself) acknowledges that “[…] the truth I am seeking is not in the drink, but in me” (45). The main character is not merely thinking of the past; rather, he is using a memory in the past as a window to view himself in the present. At the same time, he is also reconstructing his experience in the past with a new, more experienced and aged, view.

Overall, it really felt like a “roller-coaster ride” reading this book. I pay particular attention to the first section because the complex relationships between the main character’s family, as well as the complex thoughts of the main character resonated within myself. Though I had not experienced any of these memories myself, there were many places where I could empathize what the characters were going through.

To finish of my post, I would like to end with a question: Does modernism allow us to create ideas and thoughts without constraint? Is a “modernistic approach” aligned with the “limitless nature” of Romance studies?

Thank you for reading my blog.