{"id":56,"date":"2023-01-23T16:03:21","date_gmt":"2023-01-23T23:03:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/shade12\/?p=56"},"modified":"2023-01-23T16:11:19","modified_gmt":"2023-01-23T23:11:19","slug":"cartucho-tales-of-the-struggle-in-northern-mexico","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/shade12\/2023\/01\/23\/cartucho-tales-of-the-struggle-in-northern-mexico\/","title":{"rendered":"Cartucho: Tales of the Struggle in Northern Mexico"},"content":{"rendered":"

Speaking from the bottom of my heart, I feel that Nellie Campobello\u2019s <\/span>Cartucho <\/span><\/i>should have been labelled with an 18+ rating due to its extremely graphic and gruesome depiction of events that occurred in Parral during wartime, as seen through the eyes of a firsthand witness. I appreciated the fragmented style of writing, as the sense of unease only intensified with each delve into the author\u2019s trove of memories, providing a brief pause before plunging into the next story, each one titled with the name of a character who would soon meet a gruesome and senseless death. At first, I was revolted by the disturbingly vivid and detailed descriptions of brutality, but as the story progressed, I found myself growing numb to the gore and death, much like the author\u2019s progression towards the acceptance and knowledge development in matters of death as part of everyday life, as reflected in her comment on the death of her dear friend Babis, who worked at the candy store: \u201cIt\u2019s the way these days,\u201d and \u201cI said, convinced of my knowledge in matters of death\u201d.<\/span><\/p>\n

Furthermore, it was intriguing to note that, although the stories were told from the perspective of a child, the author rarely depicted any feelings of fear. One would expect a young child to be overwhelmed with emotion, but instead, the author conveyed only a sense of numbness towards death and resentment towards injustice. This is exemplified in her reactions when her friends Zafiro and Zequiel died, Campobello described herself as simply upset, only silently repeating \u201c<\/span>Pobrecitos<\/span><\/i>, <\/span>pobrecitos<\/span><\/i>, poor things\u201d without shedding a single tear. Also, when she witnessed a bully towards her mother by a troop of soldiers, she thought in her mind \u201cI couldn\u2019t study, I spent it thinking about being a man, having a pistol and firing a hundred shots into him.\u201d This left me to question whether these emotions (especially fear) were intentionally left out or if they simply did not exist in the first place.<\/span><\/p>\n

In conclusion, this read certainly opened my eyes to viewing the Mexican Revolution from an unconventional perspective of the vulnerable population, often viewed as the supporting roles in a novel, unlike most narratives depicted from the main character’s point of view. Viewing the war from a child\u2019s perspective does leave me unsettled as it highlights the innocence and vulnerability of children who were affected by the violence and brutality of the war. It also highlights the emotional and psychological impact that witnessing such events can have on a child and their future. However, I do feel that it provides a unique and powerful perspective on the events of the war, as it conveys the unseen side of the war through the eyes of a vulnerable population and gives voice to the emotions and experiences that are often left unspoken. It serves as a reminder of the human cost of war and the impact it can have on individuals and communities.<\/span><\/p>\n

Question<\/i><\/b>: Do you feel that viewing from a child\u2019s perspective provides a unique and powerful perspective on the events of the war?<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Speaking from the bottom of my heart, I feel that Nellie Campobello\u2019s Cartucho should have been labelled with an 18+ rating due to its extremely graphic and gruesome depiction of events that occurred in Parral during wartime, as seen through the eyes of a firsthand witness. I appreciated the fragmented style of writing, as the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":89460,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[10],"tags":[11,12,13],"class_list":["post-56","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-campobello","tag-chilhood","tag-revolution","tag-war"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/shade12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/56","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/shade12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/shade12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/shade12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/89460"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/shade12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=56"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/shade12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/56\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":59,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/shade12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/56\/revisions\/59"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/shade12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=56"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/shade12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=56"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/shade12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=56"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}