Author Archives: Izabella

12/15/21

The Desire to Belong: Lozada-Oliva’s Multimedia Exploration of Identity

Amid detective stories and commentaries on mid-20th century politics,
Lozada-Oliva’s writing, centering on the experience of being a second-generation American,
immediately stood out. As a child of immigrants, her description of having simultaneous desires
to assimilate to the predominant culture and to embrace her parents’ cultures (and ultimately, a
desire to simply belong to and be able to identify with one of those cultures) especially resonated
with me. What struck me the most was the contrast between reading and hearing her poems, and
how each form brought a new perspective to her writing yet conveyed the same message—for
example, I found her speaking voice to be more assertive than her writing voice, which seemed
more timid. My paper will compare the differences and similarities in the two forms of poetry,
and how her more casual, almost stream of consciousness tone contributed to the sense of
desperation to belong and the dissonance between her and those around her: both her
Guatemalan mother and her American friends. As well, the devices often used throughout her
poems, such as the inclusion of Spanish or Spanglish words and phrases, the use of irregular
punctuation for emphasis rather than for clarity, and how the themes she focuses on in these two
pieces specifically connect with each other and with the ulterior theme of identity and belonging.
I’ll discuss how her poetry compares to her nonfiction writing and to Sandra Cisneros’ writing,
which she names as her hero in one of her interviews. My biggest challenge will be finding
secondary resources for the historical context of these poems, as her writing is based less on a
specific time period and more on a specific experience. I certainly have a lot in terms of analysis
on the poetic form, her spoken performance, and the themes of the poems themselves, but I will
have to work on backing these opinions up with other sources as well as situating her writing
within historical and cultural context.

12/4/21

Sacrificing a Language

“My Spanish” reflects on Lozada-Oliva’s relationship with the language as she grows up, and as someone in a similar situation as the author, the opening and closing stanzas stood out to me the most, especially “…my Spanish is an itchy phantom limb. / It is reaching for words / and only finding air” (2-4). Though my parents spoke almost exclusively with me in Spanish when I was young, I switched to English soon after beginning school and began to lose my familiarity with Spanish, something I initially regarded as unimportant since we would only speak it at home. As I grew older my inability to connect with my relatives in Mexico pushed me to relearn the language, though I found that I was missing the ease with which I once communicated, and every sentence was a struggle to form in time to keep a conversation⁠—this in turn resulted in me speaking less in Spanish when I could, despite knowing that practice would only improve my fluency, because I felt that sticking with English was easier.

Though I knew that my parents had undoubtedly struggled with the same thing when learning English, it wasn’t until much later that I realized how much effort they had to put in on a daily basis. The end of the ninth and tenth stanzas, where Lozada-Oliva questions their identity as Americans, and then comments on her parents’ accents, also resonated with me for this reason. In an English-speaking country where an accent can be associated with status, I felt a bit sad to think I was so willing to let go of my heritage and my closeness with extended family in favour of what I used to perceive as the more important or relevant language⁠.

11/19/21

Coping with Abuse

In “Fiesta, 1980”, Junot Díaz highlights the same dynamics we saw in the previous unit⁠: the power that a man holds in a patriarchal society and the violence that can stem from his effort to maintain this power⁠—and by extension, prove his masculinity. Though Ramón’s abuse is not directly present within the story, the characters’ range of reactions (not only to his anger, but also their hesitancy to disturb his happiness) conveys the severity of its effect on their family as a whole.

Yunior seems to bear the brunt of the abuse—as he puts it, “It was like [his] God-given duty to piss [his father] off” (26)—yet he craves Ramón’s affection and does not confront him about the abuse or the affair. Yunior also often comes into conflict with Rafa, who has begun to mimic some of their father’s violent behaviour but still avoids his wrath. Even their sister, no more than a few years old, has learned to fear her father’s anger⁠: “Madai was too scared to open her eyes… Anytime Papi raised his voice her lip would start trembling” (26)⁠. Interestingly, though, she seems to be the only character whose relationship with Ramón is somewhat positive, as we see when they search for coins in the car. Finally, the mother is the most worn down by the abuse: she tries to protect her children, attempting to de-escalate the situation when Ramón begins to yell and consoling them afterwards, but there is only so much she can do without challenging him directly.

Though each person has their own way of coping with Ramón’s abuse, they surrender to it in order to preserve their family⁠; however broken it may be, they are very few people they can rely on in this new environment, away from the home they are used to.

11/4/21

A Lotta Violence for a Fairy Tale

In “Cinderella’s Secret Dream”, the intrusive narrator provides a unique perspective that casts both Cleis, as Cinderella, and the billionaire, as the prince, in a new light. As the narrator, Regan portrays Cleis positively, highlighting her beauty and tenacity, while constantly criticizing her mother, her sister Lotta, and even herself. Cleis, whose character is traditionally submissive⁠—mostly accepting how she is treated and only passively dreaming of a better future⁠—now actively works towards her “one-way train ticket” (2) to a new life. Likewise, the millionaire is no Prince Charming; rather, he assaults Cleis and murders Lotta⁠.

In this version of the story, the stepmother’s cruelty becomes part of the backstory and the role of the antagonist is shifted to the millionaire, yet unlike in typical fairy tales, he faces virtually no consequences. Cleis, at least, stands up for herself and is able to escape the town and begin a career elsewhere, but little attention is paid to Lotta’s suffering. Only two paragraphs are dedicated to explaining her death, which, on a whole, is brushed aside casually. In contrast to Cleis’s success, Lotta’s murder is never truly avenged (though the millionaire later dies in a helicopter accident, this is an unrelated incident and does not bring a sense of justice being served). Even more unnerving is Regan’s description of her own sister’s death, with which she holds the same attitude that she has towards her sister’s murderer.

Despite Cleis’s unconventional happy ending subverting genre expectations, the narrative ultimately stays within the confines of a society that has normalized the existence of femicides and gender-based violence. The exploration of these topics within a typically lighter genre, and the way they are integrated so as to unsettle readers without taking away from the focus of the Cinderella plot, leaves a stronger impact on the audience.

10/16/21

Borges’ Rules and the Tale of the Crime

In “The Crazy Woman and the Tale of the Crime”, the combination of Piglia’s unconventional take on crime fiction alongside the implementation of Borges’ rules allows readers to better understand the influence that the totalitarian government had on the media in late ‘70s and early ‘80s Argentina. First, though he includes seven main characters as opposed to the recommended six, they each provide a clear contribution to the plot and are distinct enough to stand out from other characters (though I found myself confusing Rinaldi and Renzi at times!). As per rule B, Piglia establishes the circumstances of the crime before introducing our protagonist⁠, who then goes on to confront the state-imposed limits on the press at the time. There is no typical reveal in the conclusion, since the victim and the murderer are introduced even before we meet Renzi, who fills the role of the detective, and the focus of the story is not on apprehending the true murderer but rather on the percepticide Renzi experiences. In this way we can see Piglia following Borges’ rule C by having the police play the villain, which is much more thematically fitting. The subsequent two rules⁠—prioritizing plot advancement over character development and minimizing death⁠—are also applied. Because the focus is on the interaction between journalists and the state, who tries to suppress the truth when it isn’t in their favour; instead of being on the investigation of the murder itself, our attention is drawn towards the Argentine government censorship and repression. Though it doesn’t focus specifically on how the murder happened or the intentions behind it, the story is still very plot-driven, managing to lay out a complex plot in just five pages without relying too heavily on any sort of gore. Finally, the resolution is complex and unique while remaining consistent and plausible within the story. Altogether, the incorporation of Borges’ rules in this unorthodox story provides us with better insight into Argentine society in that era.

09/24/21

Magical Realism and Government Corruption

Elements of magical realism are juxtaposed with harsh realities in Carmen Naranjo’s short story “And We Sold the Rain” to portray the corruption of a developing nation’s government in a sardonic, satirical tone. In an attempt to escape its debilitating debt, the president of an unnamed Latin American country looks to unconventional methods of procuring funds. We can immediately grasp how unfairly the situation affects lower class citizens, and see the government’s inclination to ignore their struggle for their own gain.

The nation’s worsening conditions are evident: some neighbourhoods must now contend with the rising price of water bills and increased rates of violent crime, whereas others, characterized by “a whole alphabet of trade names of gleaming new cars” (151), are more distressed at their inability to travel to exotic destinations. The government considers various proposals, from imposing a tax on the air (151), to praying to patron saints (150), to creating a transnational aqueduct system to aid in selling their only remaining natural commodity: rainwater. They end up implementing this final idea, and while citizens are initially supportive of the rain funnels, the lack of precipitation soon destroys their beautiful “green” (153) land, leaving them with even less than before. It is at this point that people begin to travel through the aqueducts in hopes of finding a better life on the other side, and while they do for a short while, the final paragraph hints at the cycle beginning again.

Though the ideas of air taxes and rain funnels are implausible in the real world, it is precisely their comical nature alongside the sarcastic narration that allows readers to better understand how willing a government can be to exploit every last drop that their country can offer in order to rake more money in, even when it comes at the cost of losing the very people that make up the country.

09/17/21

Old Horrors Through New Eyes

Arturo Arias’ “Guatemala 1954: Funeral for a Bird” examines a devastated mid-coup Guatemala through the perspective of Maximo Sanchez. Maximo, not yet five, lives in a world full of violence and despair, but also full of colour, freedom, and new discoveries. As we follow him we see that in his eyes, the dead bodies and puddles of blood lining the streets are only obstacles in the way of his next adventure.

Throughout the story, the focus is never on the death surrounding Maximo, or the atrocities that he is implied to have experienced, but rather on the simpler things that are within his understanding. His desire to learn the proper name for everything, his simultaneous revulsion and curiosity towards the worm-filled corpses, and his eagerness to participate in a burial of a dead bird all take the forefront of this narrative. Maximo’s attitude towards the human corpses is particularly jarring in contrast with his behaviour towards the death of the bird; his fervency to see this bird up close causes him to trip over a rotting corpse, and his only response is to kick the body in frustration, yet he treats the bird with utmost care during its burial.

It is not that Maximo is entirely blind to the events that are occurring around him—he realizes that the bombs may have to do with his father’s disappearance, and becomes frightened at the thought of them returning—but he cannot grasp reality the way a more mature person, such as the old man, could. At first glance this may seem to limit the narrative, but I believe it does the opposite: in confronting something already shocking through the eyes of an unknowing child, our own eyes are opened to the inescapable horrors that Guatemalans became accustomed to during this time.