Tag Archives: poetry

Week 11, Bolaño, Distant Star

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Roberto Bolaño’s Distant Star was an intriguing novel. The book’s narrative style felt innovative, weaving a chilling story of political extremism, artistic ambition, fascism (though I still struggle to grasp this idea), and the destructive forces of love. Bolaño’s use of a fragmented, non-linear narrative structure created a sense of disorientation, perhaps mirroring the chaos and uncertainty of the novel’s historical and political context. At the same time, Bolaño’s character development and dialogue helped me empathize with the novel’s flawed and damaged protagonists, even as their actions became increasingly brutal.

Professor Ryan Long, during the conversation video with Professor Jon, pointed out the specialty of Bolaño’s narrative style. He stated:

“It’s really interesting that the novel sometimes uses the first person plural, you have a first person singular narrator who sometimes uses first person plural and sometimes it seems like he’s referring to himself and Bibiano kind of working together through these correspondence, but you could also imagine that it’s the first person narrator and Arturo kind of having a conversation; the novel has a really strong oral quality as if its narration were a conversation at times” (10:20 ~11:20).

This quote interested me because I didn’t perceive the narrative style to be sort of a ‘conversation’ or ‘collaboration’ until suggested by Professor Long. I’m not sure if having this insight would change my perception of the book or the credibility of the narrator, but I wonder if there would be any change in my reading experience if I were to go back to the book with this new thought.

Furthermore, one of the most striking aspects of Distant Star was the way that Bolaño used different narrators and perspectives to create a complex and multifaceted portrayal of the novel’s central character, Wieder. Initially introduced as a charismatic young poet, Wieder gradually becomes a murderer, obsessed with the coup. However, Bolaño never allowed me to see Wieder solely as a villain; instead, the readers were shown glimpses of his vulnerability, his fear, and his twisted sense of love, which made him a complex figure.

Reading this book reminded me of Roberto Bolaño’s other novel, Amulet, which I read last year in RMST 202. For a very quick context, in Amulet, the narrator is a woman who is held captive in a public bathroom during the Pinochet coup. Thinking of the two novels side to side, both novels explore the legacy of political violence and repression in Latin America, and both use innovative narrative techniques to explore themes of memory, identity, fascism, and artistic ambition. However, while Amulet felt like a more straightforwardly structured novel, Distant Star felt more fragmented and complex.

Question: Although this book is fiction, how credible was the ‘unnamed narrator’ for you? In comparison with Menchu last week, were there any narrative styles/ techniques that made the narrator of Distant star more (or less) credible?

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?