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.

Throughout “The Parade Ends,” by Reinaldo Arenas, space is depicted in an atypical way, as it is developed through the senses rather than typical visual descriptors. This development creates a skewed and confused sense of space. I think the best example can be seen when the narrator is taken to jail. As he enters the jail, he describes, “the circular cave that endlessly oozes bugs, mold, urine, those fumes, those fumes accumulating, overflowing excrement, and that din, the constant shouting of the prisoners, that beating on the bunks and walls” (108). Typically, the visual description would be described to set the scene for all of the other senses to contextualize themselves in; however, Arenas does not do this, rather he places the other senses above sight. By doing so, the reader is drawn towards the emotional side of the scene, rather than the visual. This can be better seen at the beginning of the story when the narrator is attempting to escape a crowd to follow the her. He describes the journey through the people, “that want, like me, to walk around, change places, turn, and that only cause contractions, wiggling, stretching, convulsions” (99). The reader feels the entrapment, so rather than understanding how large the crowd is, the reader understands the feeling instead. We feel the trap; we cant rationalize the narrator out of the situation, we can only be stuck in the trapped space that the narrator is in. As someone who is very visual, I struggled to understand how the scenes were changing throughout the story, yet I was still able to follow the emotions and the atmosphere of these skewed places. Overall, by not relying on visual cues to develop space, Arenas creates an ambiguous sense of space for the reader, which in turn intensifies the emotion and atmosphere of the story.

By describing the sun as you would blood preceding or following instances of violence, Mayra Santos-Febres, the author of the short story, Broken Strand, adds new meaning to the common phrase, “beauty is pain”. The first time Santos-Febres ties together the sun, blood, and violence is after describing the abuse of  Yetsaida’s father. Her father comes stumbling in from the streets, yelling and hitting, grabbing her mothers nose. Yetsaida describes, “the river that comes out of the nose, red, neon red like Miss Kety’s comb. The sun arrives, red, red, red; it overflows with blood like a ripening womb, like it has a deep gnash in its system, like they had given it a tremendous beating” (4). The scene of a broken nose is not pretty, yet the suns rays, described like flowing blood, is somehow poetic, and almost beautiful. Furthermore, Miss Kety constantly reminds her clients that they cannot move, as they could be seriously hurt by the hot comb; yet, in order to be beautiful the girls must endure the harsh heat to get the straight hair they see as beautiful. Similarly, sunsets are seen as beautiful, but when described as the red light pour in and over the walls, the reader begins to question its beauty, as it begins to sound more violent. In all these instances, pain, either through the heat of the comb or the blood of the sun, is necessary for the beauty of the straight hair or the beautiful colors of the sunset. These women in Yetsaida’s town must endure incredible pain to feel beautiful, enduring the hot comb and the abuse of their husbands. “Beauty is pain” is an accepted saying by many, yet by almost making the reader uncomfortable with the description of beauty being painful through the sun, blood, and violence, Santos-Febres calls into question the saying, opening up a new discussion into why we believe this and how this sentiment is open to change.

Tano, Gustavo, and Martin commit suicide in order to give their families money in the beginnings of economic collapse. The Argentina implemented neoliberal economic policies in the late 1980s in order to bring itself out of a recession, yet these reforms led to its total collapse in 2001. Much like the men in the story, the state was doing what it thought it needed to do in order to survive, yet for both, this ended in disaster.

The men make decisions they think will help and protect their families. For example, Martin is scared to tell his wife that he lost his job and they could no longer afford their lavish lifestyle, so he avoids doing so, and she never finds out until his death. On the other hand, Tano steals money from terminally ill patients in order to get money for his family. He also suggests that they commit suicide and make it look like an accident in order for their families to get insurance money, which could help them make it through the impending economic collapse. Although these acts are not necessarily illegal, besides the insurance fraud, they are not ethically correct; yet, the men see no other way to support their families, and feel they must.

Similarly, Argentina is forced to implement neoliberal policies into their government in order to become economically stable. As these policies were implemented in the late 1980s, economists knew that they would not be sustainable and eventually lead to another recession. They were correct, and the stock market crashed in 2001. Argentina felt it needed to implement these reforms to pay back debts, stop hyperinflation, and get out of the recession. 

The decisions of the men and of Argentina led to demise, despite their intentions. I think Piñeiro uses this to comment on the decisions many Latin American countries are forced to make in order to save themselves economically. Through the use of the male characters, readers/viewers develop empathy towards the questionable decisions they make. By equating the men and the state, Piñerio transfers the empathy towards the state. Government officials knew that linking the Argentinian peso to the US dollar was a mistake, yet they did so anyway, because it is what they thought was a solution. Outsiders may criticize the decision, but, government officials did what they thought was best, much like the men of Thursday Night Widows.

Although many detective fiction works do not critique society, I would argue that “The Puzzle of the Broken Watch,” by María Elvira Bermùdez, does provide a critique. Because the description of the family home is very detailed, unlike any other place description, the author is pushing the reader to think less about the crime, and more about the characters in the story, leading to her critique of the detective fiction genre.

The description of the home, but not the murder scene, pulls the reader from solving the crime and pushes them towards the characters in the story. This is not a crime of brutality, but rather it is one of passion, as Ismael loves Rosa and is trying to win her over. In order to solve the mystery, one must understand the characters motives and backstories. Because the story is a “whodunnit”, the reader pays more attention to the characters, leading to Bermùdez’s critique of the detective fiction genre and Mexican society in the 1940s. The murderer, Ismael, is a police officer; his job is to protect the people and uphold the law, yet in many Latin American countries, the justice system kills. By making the murderer a police officer, Bermùdez calls into question the integrity of the police force, and prompts the question, what happens when the institution that is supposed to protect is the one that is killing? Furthermore, this critique of the state also critiques the genre of detective fiction, as the main ideas of the genre support a capitalist, US/UK governmental ideals. By calling into question these so called protective institutions, she flips the script on the genre, and makes it relevant to her experiences in Mexico.

Borges fourth rule, “the priority of how over who,” leads to a good problem solving story; however, Borges is not known to critique society through his work, he merely writes good detective fiction. However, because Bermùdez is providing a critique of society through her characters, it is important that the story is focused on the characters. Had the story been focused on the actual crime, it would be much harder for the reader to understand the critique on society and the genre.

Throughout the short story, “Guatemala 1954- Funeral for a Bird,” by Arturo Arias, the motif of the dead bird suggests a commentary on the fleeting freedom experienced by Guatemalans and other victims of civil unrest.

Commonly in literature, the presence of a bird represents freedom. Since Maximo was born at the beginning of Guatemala’s Civil War, freedom is something he has never truly experienced. At the beginning of the story, Maximo suggests that the fighting and bombing has ceased for the time being, and with relief from the war, he begins to feel free. As he wanders the streets, Maximo remarks on his sense of freedom, saying, he, “could walk in any direction unless streets were blocked by corpses or fallen walls. That was called freedom” (50). Birds, which would be scared of the loud noises of war, would return to the community. Therefore, with the ceasing of bombs, the bird represents a return of freedom.

Yet, the bird the children gather around is dead, not alive, suggesting that the freedom Maximo is experiencing will soon come to an end. The Guatemalan civil war lasted for 36 years, with peace and war coming and going. The dead bird symbolizes the complexity of war and peace, bringing up the question when is peace fully attained? Additionally, with the history of United States intervention in Guatemala and other Latin American countries, the fleeting freedom shown by the bird invites the debate of what true freedom is. In conclusion, Maximo’s experience of the dead bird can be seen as a commentary on freedom during war and in post-war communities.