Tag Archives: Affect

Week 4 – Neruda, “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair”

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Pablo Neruda’s Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair was a beautiful read. As I watched the lecture video before I read the book, I was able to set aside the controversies surrounding the author and focus solely on the work itself. Accordingly, I will only reflect on the work itself and the author as he is—directly or indirectly—represented within his work.

My first interest was the translation of Neruda’s poems. Although the English version was beautiful, resonating, and—at times—heartbreaking, I constantly wonder how accurate W. S. Merwin’s translations are. I have no doubt that Merwin is a superb translator; however, there are words, tones, and nuances that just cannot be translated accurately. Moreover, translation in itself is a new form of representation; the translator ultimately decides—based on his own perspective—what words fit best for a certain translation. I wonder how different Neruda’s untranslated version is from the English version.

Throughout the chapters, I found it interesting that I kept reading with an emphasis on the words “I” and “My.” Throughout the first half of the book, the narrator uses the words “I” and “My” a lot. This tendency is only disrupted in chapter 4, when the tone shifts—as if the poem was addressed to a third person, many uses of “our” and “her” instead of “I” and “My.” In line with the lecture, the fact that I kept reading with an emphasis on these words revealed to me that these poems are extremely one-sided—as in, it only shows ‘his’ side of the love story. Reasonably inferring that this is a heterosexual relationship, ‘her’ perspective is nowhere to be found. Even in places where we might be able to assume ‘her’ perspective, that too is a conscious representation of the male narrator. Relating back to the idea that “history is written by the victors,” these poems were written by one side of a two-way relationship. This left me wondering what she might think of these poems… Considering the frequent mentioning of a “toy doll” and the overall desperation/ resentment shown by the narrator, I wouldn’t be too pleased to read the work if I was ‘her’.

Solely as a literary work, this book is just mesmerizing. The quality of the poems (lines, rhymes, metaphors, imagery, etc.) are just amazing. I am not so much into poetry but some lines just resonated with me. My top two favourites were: “I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees” (46-47); “The biggest stars look at me with your eyes” (58). As a poetic work, I think there are multiple ways the reader can approach this book. Whether that is to take it in face-value or try to find some ‘hidden message’ (perhaps a political message), these different approaches would entail different interpretations. I think that is the beauty of poetry—and literature in general.

Question: What is your most favourite line or phrase from the poems in the book?

Week 3 – Campobello, “Cartucho”

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Nellie Campobello’s Cartucho was an intriguing yet fascinating read.

Firstly, the content of the book was interesting as it depicted a unique perspective on the Mexican Revolution. Going away from the more conventional “victor’s narrative” of the Revolution, it provided a detailed firsthand account of the brutalities and violence that were experienced by those who suffered. These accounts were not just limited to physical sufferings—ex. torture or death—but also included psychological sufferings—mainly in the form of mourning. The extremely detailed and sensual narrative content made me question why the author decided to depict the Revolution in a rather unconventional way. However, this quote from the lecture, that “[w]hat counts is what sticks in the mind” answered this question (2). As much as outcomes are important (ex. who won or lost which battle), the everyday lives and trauma experienced by the population are equally as important to record. Perhaps Campobello’s Cartucho was a way in which agency was given back to those who suffered—or died. Perhaps, those that were kept silent were finally given a voice through this book.

Secondly, Campobello’s use of a child narrator for this story was confusing and disturbing at times but also beneficial at other times. First of all, I wondered why the author decided to use a child narrator for a book that deals with a topic as heavy as the Mexican Revolution—containing diverse ideologies, politics, and gruesome imageries. The whole part of “General Sobarzo’s Guts” was particularly disturbing because the imagery was quite gruesome. The most disturbing quote was probably when the child narrator and some others said “Guts! How nice! Whose are they?” While on one part the use of a child narrator felt odd, it also seems like the extremely detailed portrayals and unfiltered depictions were only made possible because it was told by a child narrator—who seemed to driven by affect more than any internal political considerations of the war.

Lastly, the lack of a chronological or logical continuity made it difficult to get used to the narrative style of the book. However, the conversation video cleared things up. A key point that I was able to develop from watching the video was questioning the necessity to make sense of a ‘non-linear’ narrative. Do we have to make sense of a narrative in a chronological or logical continuity? Or would this, in itself, be a form of bias/ presumption? While there is a seductive effort to make sense of what happened, for both us (as readers) and those that suffered from the war (trying to make sense of what the war entailed), reality proves different; in reality, there were lots of senselessness—especially in war. Perhaps making sense with some kind of a happy ending was damaging—or misrepresenting—what happened in reality.

Question: Isn’t Campobello’s use of a “child narrator” a form of play-acting? Do you think Campobello successfully portrayed the war in a “child narrator’s perspective”, despite writing the book as an adult?