Tag Archives: arenas

11/18/21

A Parade with Few (Almost None) Comradery

Towards the beginning of Reinaldo Arenas’s “The Parade Ends”, the story’s ‘I’ describes a moment where the crowd around the fence comes together and sings the national anthem in a “single, unanimous and thundering voice” (102). This is one of several moments in the story where the crowd is characterized as being a single being with the same afflictions, aspirations, and intentions. The I describes a sense of community in the event: “In droves, through the shower of rocks, the dust, and the shooting, they’re entering, we’re entering. All kinds of people. Some I know or at least have seen before, but now we greet each other euphorically, in a communion of mutual sincerity, never manifested before, as if we were old and dear friends,” (118). In these few examples, it seems as though everyone is going through this horrific event together. The crowd is described as comprised of people, not just feet and lumps.

However, this sense of community is short-lived, for the crowd is more often than not characterized as an obstacle or an inconvenience to the I rather than as a group with whom he identifies with. As soon as the second page of the story, the crowd is described as “a whole arsenal of voiceferating lumps that move […] and that anly cause contractions, […] leaving everyone trapped in one big spiderweb which stretches out on one side, contracts here, rises over there, but doesn’t manage to break loose anywhere,’ (99). At different points in the story, such as this one, the people in the crowd become an inconvenience that keeps the I from reaching the lizard. There is still a description of a collection of individuals forming a group, a ‘big spiderweb’, but the group is not characterized as something that brings solidarity and community to those within it. Instead, the group functions as a trap, keeping everyone inside the horror, letting none escape. “The mass retreated without being able to retreat, they pressed even more tightly together […] and whoever fell […] his last sight would be the thousands and thousands of feet in a circular stampede, stepping on him and returning to step on him again,” (102). What the group shares, at least how it’s written, is their desperation, but that desperation, selfish, makes it so they trample over other people to get what they want. When thousands of individuals have this same desperation it creates a group that doesn’t allow any of them to get out. In other words, it seems as though the individual desperation of each person accumulates so they all encase each other in the group, inhibiting the ability of all to leave. The circumstances bring them together, not a sense of comradery.

11/18/21

When the Parade Ends

In this week’s reading, “The Parade Ends” by Reinaldo Arenas I was particularly interested in examining the “you” that appears throughout the story. The story is fast-paced with a constant shift in location; Arenas’ inclusion of the “you” furthers this manufactured chaos that seeks to represent the state of life in Cuba. There seems to be a particular intimacy between the narrator and “you.” When planning an escape, the narrator displays how the “you” is local and familiar with the problems facing Cuban society. The “you” instructs the narrator on what materials are needed to escape, where to get them, and how to keep them. Arenas reveals the unique knowledge of survival that is gained under oppressive circumstances. The “you” and the narrator have a certain level of intimacy based on their shared secret; the desire to escape.

We touched on in class that perhaps the “you” or the lizard do not need to be specifically interpreted, which I think was helpful in challenging my own reading of the story. In reexamining the “you,” I found a transitional moment between perspectives that perhaps could bring some clarity. On page 106, the narrator states that “we finished rounding out the plan… but now that clever one has disappeared again,  she’s slipped away,” creating a sense that “she” refers to the escape plan. This would be an interesting lens through which to view the story; the narrator is chasing his plan to escape, which is escaping him in itself. The lizard, or this plan, represents a desire to survive and live. The “you” remains more ambiguous but is involved in the desire to escape nonetheless.

11/15/21

(Our) parade fell

In this reading, I was confused but so intrigued at the same time, primarily when they were constantly referring to me (us) in the reading. The word “you” comes across repeatedly, that much that I centered myself inside of the story, almost as if I could feel it and see it. “Luckily, in the last visit, you managed to bring in some books.” (page 108), as if we as readers were friends with the narrator. Almost as if we both share the same passion and impotence of wanting to escape. But how is there an escape route when there is not an exit and ability to speak up, to begin with?. Moreover, silence is a highly discussed theme. The narrator shows the true background story of Cuba by documenting what was never told and the consequences of standing for yourself (he ends up in jail). 

I also want to talk about how hope is also mentioned, “Time passes, time passes, you say.” (page 108), as if life could move on as if there were faith, something worth living for. Plus, noting metafiction “(Hope?)” on page 106 shows the unthinkable, dream, and final goal. Later, the plan changes and turns to revenge “… my triumph which has gone on growing thicker…” (page 113).

Coming back to what I initially mentioned. In the end, when the people jumped the fence and took shelter, the narrator says once again,” they couldn’t annihilate me-annihilate us– completely.” (page 119), as if we were inside with him. However, he mentions he can’t find us, “really, will we still be able to recognize each other” (page 120), making it a little confusing for the reader to identify themselves and figure out which side they are standing on. Still, it seems we (as readers) allied to those “wealthy people” and stayed outside and got ourselves caught without an escape, making us realize that we (someone close to the writer) betrayed him.