Monthly Archives: November 2021

11/27/21

Luiselli Style

Luiselli has a unique writing style that is unlike any other author we have seen thus far. Luiselli uses humor to relieve tension in the text. Whenever the novel covers a disturbing or tragic piece of nonfiction, there is almost always some kind of humorous jab to go with it. She speaks of irony, giving the reader time to laugh and think, then proceeds to describe the irony in immaculate detail. By doing this, Luiselli stalls the reader long enough to then make them less sensitive to the tragic content that is the target of the irony. Furthermore, unlike other authors, Luiselli does not leave much to be read in between the lines, she tends to extrapolate so much that even the least critical reader has an extremely easy time to understand the points she is trying to convey. She pours out all of her thoughts and feelings of the topic at hand throughout the novel; thus,  it is like how the reader is looking into a glimpse of her mind. The reader, captivated by what she thinks and what she thinks others think, is then pulled into the story that she is trying to portray, the narrative that she is attempting to tell. Although Luiselli’s writing style works wonders for the readers that actually read it, the form is not the best for attracting new audiences or keeping the reader involved, since it is very long compared to other short stories we have read as well as how Luiselli goes off in a tangent of long sentences just like the ones in this post.

11/27/21

The humor of trauma

What stuck with me the most from Luiselli’s text is the amount of humor that she included in it. I’m also a person who deals with stressful situations by laughing at them or trying to play a joke. Although it’s not always the most appropriate response, it’s interesting how people use humor to cope with unknown or intense situations.

I associated the use of this device with standup comedians. Usually, people who joke about their marginalization, racism, and stereotypes, are the biggest example of how humor can loosen tension about these subjects and help start a conversation about the difficulties of navigating their lives as minority groups.

I found that Luiselli was able to not only bring humor into the narration but use it in such a way that it highlighted just how extreme and unfair the system is. By critiquing the people, institutions, and ideologies involved in the immigration crisis, she allows us readers to become a part of the conversation.

11/26/21

Power and its Victims

I found that Tell Me How It Ends is a text that makes parallels with another literary piece that we visited earlier in the term, And We Sold the Rain by Naranjo Carmen. For instance, both introduce a government that has failed to deliver sufficient provision to its residents, causing many to flee. I believe that both pieces call attention to the matter that a power will always step up when there is an opportunity to in their government. In Tell Me How it Ends, that power was gangs. While in And We Sold the Rain, a foreign government chooses to establish economic and financial power over Guatemala. Thus, we can compare the two literary pieces to establish a resemblance that appears in both parties. For example, when there is a vulnerability present with a country, both choose to enact and exploit these vulnerabilities for their own benefit. Regardless of the means through which they choose to enact their power, both, in the end, threaten the well being of the individuals in which they reign over. Hence, this reveals a commonality present in the structure and principles of both groups. Although the two parties (gangs and governments) are separated due to social status and practical procedure, it is possible that their essence is united in harmony. Could this be bought out in anyone when they are given a position of power? This is only limited to certain personalities or is it possible in anybody due to a weakness in human nature?

11/26/21

A Story With No End

The title of Valeria Luiselli’s book, “Tell Me How It Ends,” highlights the human tendency to yearn for cohesion and logical conclusions. Luiselli revealed that it was in fact her daughter that took an interest to the story of two girls travelling together to seek asylum in the US, where she asks “how does it end?” Luiselli herself wants to find out how the story of migrant children ends, thus the title was born through her daughter’s question and her own. However, many Americans don’t have the same sympathy for migrant children, where even publications such as the New York Times describes these children as poor and violent. Little do they know that these causes are deeply rooted in a shared hemispheric history. The irony is that the US government doesn’t attribute the trafficking of arms as a reason for why people flee, or that the US are mass consumers of trafficked drugs which proliferate gang violence, hence if there wouldn’t be demand then there wouldn’t be supply.

Luiselli notes that while Trump has exacerbated the issue, it was poor policies from the past that brought us to where we are today. For instance, under Obama, children who were seeking asylum has under a month to secure legal assistance, in addition to the violence that people seemed to ignore. Additionally, the Clinton administration had already began building the wall between Mexico and the US. The precursors to Trump had normalized the violence and scrutiny of migrant children. It’s incredibly difficult to unpack everything that lead to the situation of illegal immigrants in the states, so that’s why the story is ongoing because we all have much to learn.

11/26/21

Immigrant’s Prayer

“Tell Me How it Ends” by Valeria Luiselli is both a moving story and a comprehensive guide to the American immigration story. As she navigates the multiple questions that small children are expected to answer, she delves deeper into the logistics and realities of life on the road. Hopeful immigrants often board La Bestia, a dangerous train that is both the promise of a new life and the risk of losing the one you already have. Luiselli includes the Immigrant’s prayer which is said by those traveling on La Bestia which says “to leave is to die a little/ to arrive is never to arrive.” I was particularly interested in this prayer partially because of its vagueness. What is the arrival and how does one arrive and yet not arrive? The first line of the prayer is fairly straightforward. Often the child migrants are faced with gang violence or death in their home countries; leaving is not just a desire but rather a move for survival. Immigrants have to leave behind their homeland, culture, and family in hopes of securing their future. While many might be relieved to make it to the United States, this relief does not negate the sadness of their journey or the way they miss home. The second portion of the prayer is harder to analyze. Initially, I took the line to mean that to arrive at the destination is to not arrive at heaven, meaning they might escape death.  Yet the inclusion of “never” seems to complicate this interpretation as even if a person makes the journey, they will still eventually die. In doing more research, the lines of prayer seem to be part of a larger prayer in which the line says “to arrive is never to arrive definitively until resting in You.” This longer line seems to confirm the sentiment that travel is temporary until passing on and reaching heaven, resting with God. I was glad that Luiselli included the prayer as it was helpful in showing what brings comfort on the road for migrants. What did you take the prayer to mean?

11/25/21

the “right” answers

On page 61, Luiselli mentions that for refugee kids to gain recognition of U.S. immigration structures, they need to provide the “right” answers. But what are the “right” answers? Working within an immigration system preying on your trauma and waiting for you to fail cannot bring about the “right” answers. By the time refugee children arrive at the U.S. border, the weight of the journey, leaving what they have always known, their language and the warmth of a culture that they might not even return to, can be a lot to process. In contrast with the literal coldness of ICE, which puts kids in cages of never-ending violence. The paradox of claiming asylum in the U.S. is that the process often brings about more violence. What is supposed to be the place that will provide freedom from the danger you supposedly left behind will make you relive the trauma. Asylum should be a means of escape. Yet, the way U.S. immigration is structured forces kids to re-immerse themselves in what they are trying to forget. The immediately and forcefully demanded “right” answers dehumanize children. Early on, U.S. officials teach them that suffering is the only way to earn a place in U.S. society.

Ultimately, what is most cruel about demanding “right” answers, other than the traumatic responses being weaponized against as the value assigned upon children, is that U.S. officials are complicit in creating the situation which leads to the “right” answers. They know what the kids are fleeing from, they have encouraged the violence and have profited from it too. Yet, U.S. officials still make the kids narrate their trauma as an ultimate assertion of power relations they cannot escape.

11/25/21

A Reflection on Guilt

One aspect I did not expect to be so intriguing while reading Tell Me How it Ends was the idea of guilt of privilege. As we discussed in class, there is a sense of guilt as Luiselli compares her journey to the US with the journeys of the children she interviews. One quote that really struck me was as she described her frustration with explaining her trip to a border patrol agent. She explains, ” we find a country that is as beautiful as it is broken, and we are somehow now part of it, so we are also broken with it, and feel ashamed, confused, and sometimes hopeless, and are trying to figure out how to do something about all that” (24). Her journey to the states has been far less, or if at all, as traumatic compared to the children’s. As she compared the journeys, it becomes clear the questions in which US government asks immigrants; are you smart enough, or traumatized enough for a visa? She recognizes her privilege of having the resources to get her visa, and feels guilty for having an easier journey. On a different note, I think this quote also goes well with our discussion in class of what we, as university students, can do about the problems we discuss in class. While we gain knowledge, we become better equipped to tackle these issues; yet, a feeling of helplessness grows as we learn just how deep rooted these problems are. The conflict between gaining power through knowledge, confusion of how to use the knowledge, and frustration of not knowing where to start weighs heavy on our minds and Luisellis. In conclusion, Tell Me How it Ends evoked an interesting reflection on the guilt we can carry for learning about these topics and what we are to do about it.

11/25/21

Interrogation of Worth

Luiselli’s structural choices allow for an implicit criticism of the United States’ inhumanity during this crisis. By going through each question and providing anecdotes, the injustice and heartlessness of the US are strikingly apparent. Luiselli has no need to explicitly criticize these procedures, simply going through each question is enough to highlight the inefficacy of this process as a tool for determining a child’s worthiness of entering the country. The controlled structure seems to juxtapose the long and elaborate response that Luiselli writes to each question, reflecting the uselessness of the process; a child’s worth and value cannot be dwindled down into 40 questions. The process goes against everything the US, and the Western world, have agreed upon about human rights, and yet the crisis happened so blatantly and without intervention. Her detached approach to tackling this problem by laying it out in the same way the courtroom procedure would follow creates a powerful critique of the system when we see that it is impossible to answer these questions succinctly, thereby showcasing and critiquing the failures of the bureaucracy. I think that Luiselli’s choice to write about her college class’ initiative to help was a powerful way of showcasing that this should not be a problem that is ignored and normalized and that we should be doing something to stop this relentless cycle of colonial violence. The anger I felt while reading was, almost, soothed by this idea of hope and inspiration that I can do something to help. 

11/25/21

Violence that seems to never stop

The book “Tell Me How it Ends: An Essay in 40 Questions” by Valeria Luiselli is indeed a book full of serous issues taking place in the current world we all live in. One will never be aware of the atrocities  that immigrant children have to go through until one gets more involve on the topic. That’s why I found the book so touching because it makes you realize the seriousness of the current situation and allows one to have a more critical view of it.
Personally, I found the stories of the children quite devastating, but what was even more shocking was the fact that after all these children have been through and get to the U.S border, their pain don’t stop there. They encounter themselves with discrimination and maltreatment from U.S officers. They are placed into the “ice box” as of they were a diseased that must be contained. Additionally, the U.S keeps implementing harsher laws by making it more difficult to get a granted legal status for these children. These kids risk their lives to get to the U.S but they might be deported and all their dangerous trip was for nothing. Even if some of these children make through the court, they will still have to face many challenges. Including when they later on have to acculturate and found themselves vulnerable against racism, violence, bullying, among others. Their whole journey is based on violence and seems to never stop until they find a certain “stability” in their new “home” but the traumas will keep being around these kids.  

11/25/21

fitting a circle into a square

For this week’s blog post I wanted to dive a little bit deeper into Luiselli’s progressive, specific naming the numbers of the questions throughout the text. In our small group, we discussed how this worked to highlight the bureaucratic handling of something that does not fit neatly into the bureaucratic “mould.”

Numbers are potentially the most logical,  systematic way of ordering anything. Throughout the essay Luiselli demonstrates how the US immigration system attempts to squeeze these children’s unique and individualized stories into the confines of logical, ordered and systematic numerical lists.

By specifically referring to the numbered questions at different points throughout the essay, Luiselli reminds us as readers of the futility – ridiculousness – of trying to mould the children’s subjective stories to these highly objective criteria.

At the same time, in a more formal way, the numbers act as little “touchpoints” throughout the story to keep the reader grounded in the story. They move the narrative along, which is especially important because Luiselli jumps between different temporal spaces throughout (between her attempts to get her green card, her road trip, her job as a translator).

Interestingly, I noticed that the “Coda – Eight Brief Postscripta” is organized numerically, even though each “subject” doesn’t fit into a particular “category.” I’m not sure what to make of this, as Luiselli has critiqued the system of numbers throughout the essay, and yet organizes her ideas in this way at the end of the text. I’m not criticizing her for doing so, and perhaps it means nothing – but it just sparked a thought.