As I delved into the pages of Pedro Lemebel’s My Tender Matador, I was immediately drawn into a world of raw emotion and vivid imagery. Lemebel ingeniously weaved together a fictional (hi)story that not only tackled the issues of identity, politics, resistance, and social justice but also explored the complexities of gender and sexuality. It was a powerful and poignant read that left me with a new perspective on these topics.
Despite being set in 1980s Chile, Lemebel’s portrayal of the themes in the novel is still very relevant today, on a global scale, where issues of gender and identity continue to be at the forefront of social and political discourse. Throughout the novel, Lemebel painted a vivid portrait of a society that often fails to recognize the humanity of those who fall outside the narrow confines of societal norms of gender and sexuality aspects. This is perhaps most evident in the event where the Dictator and his soldiers overlooked Carlos’s planning of the ambush on their journey to the rural house.
I was also particularly struck by the language of destruction used in the novel, which portrayed masculinity and triumph in a way that was both intriguing and concerning. The character of the Queen of the Corner, in particular, stood out to me in her response to Carlos’s confession of his past amorous encounter with a male friend on the beach. I believe the way she spoke about the “brutal way they talk about the urgency of sex, like bullfighters‒Me first, I’ll stick it in you, I’ll split you in two, I’ll put it in, I’ll tear you to pieces‒with no tact or delicacy” (80) can be a powerful critique of the destructive language we often use in our daily conversations to describe triumphant achievements such as “You’re killin’ it”, and “Smashin’ the game”.
It is intriguing to consider the ways in which we use such language of destruction in our everyday lives. Whether it be in the context of sports, business, or personal relationships, the language of domination and victory is often used to describe our achievements. This begs the question: do we need to resort to destructive means in order to achieve success and triumph?
Perhaps we are living in a battleground of sorts, where the language of war and conflict permeates our daily lives. A prime example of this is the term “target” which is commonly used to describe audiences, and sales goals, in professional settings. It is worth considering whether this language is necessary for achieving our goals or if it perpetuates a culture of violence and domination.
Question: Can the pursuit of triumph and success be achieved without leaving a trail of destruction in its wake? Or is destruction an inevitable cost of achieving one’s goals? In a world where success is often equated with power and domination, is it possible to achieve greatness without sacrificing our humanity and the well-being of those around us?
The character of Carlos could have been presented in the novel as a hyper-violent macho, eager for the destructive violence of the Pinochet regime. However, we know little about the plot of the attack against the dictator. The focus moves towards the encounters between Carlos and La Loca, where the game predominates and not the revolutionary strategy. It is true that in the novel there is a meditation on masculinity and violence, but it is different from other “guerrilla” narratives that tell us about that time in Latin America. In that sense, and only in that, it is the story of a failure, that of the failed attack. But the novel makes us see other things. I would like to know what others think about this topic.
Extremely interesting post about the language of destruction! I never thought about the literal meanings of those expressions, even outside the context of this class. I think violence is very normalized in North American society, point-blank (and pun intended). Quite violent movies featuring killings of opponents and shooting sprees are rated G here- yet mundane everyday things like swearing or the human body are apparently too graphic. It’s subtle signals like this that make it seem like violence is almost glorified. I can’t speak to whether this is the case in South America, but just to add to your note on destructive language.
Destruction isn’t an inherently bad thing: see the destruction of Pinochet’s regime. In that sense I would consider destruction necessary at times. If by destruction you mean destroying something that is good, I suppose a bit of it is inevitable. I want to be successful in my calculus course. To do that I have to destroy (delete) some apps on my phone even if it makes me sad and robs me of a substantial source of good (happiness and fulfillment). Ultimately, I know my net sadness would be much greater should I fail. This is an example of why destruction is sometimes necessary.
Your idea about “destructive” language as perpetuating a subliminal cycle of violence and domination is intriguing on multiple levels. It might be interesting to compare this theme to past and present trends in South America to see if there is a correlation. Great post!