Tag Archives: representation

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?

Week 2 – de la Parra, “Mama Blanca’s Memoirs”

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Teresa de la Parra’s Mama Blanca’s Memoirs was a pleasant read filled with feelings of childhood, memory, and nostalgia. Additionally, the book also fed thoughts on accuracy—and distortion—of representations, different perspectives within narratives, and the nature of storytelling. Lastly, Teresa de la Parra’s book provided an interesting—perhaps inaccurate, to an extent—depiction of the realities of a plantation farm in nineteenth-century Venezuela.

First of all, the foreword to the book gave me a lot of points to think about. As mentioned in the lecture content for this week, it stood out how the publication of Mama Blanca’s memoirs by the un-named editor was a “betrayal”. The editor and Mama Blanca seemed to have a very strong bond built upon trust, despite the significant age gap—the editor stated how Mama Blanca, in regards to age, was “a person who might have been my great-grandmother” (7). While the relationship seems unconventional based on people’s “judgement on outward appearances[,]” I thought the relationship between the editor and Mama Blanca was a precious relationship built upon kindness, love, and trust (7). To a certain extent, I can relate to this special type of relationship with an elder. I have somehow developed a very precious relationship with my middle school teacher and now we have a family-like relationship built upon sincerity, support, and mutual respect. Knowing how precious these types of relationships are, I wonder why the editor decided to publish Mama Blanca’s memoirs. Although Mama Blanca was dead by the time the editor published the memoirs, it was still breaking the trust that the former gave to the latter. Was there something about the memoirs—about Mama Blanca’s life—that made the editor feel compelled to publish it, despite that meant a “betrayal”?

Second, the fact that Mama Blanca was relatively privileged—being the daughter of the owner of a sugar plantation in Venezuela, part of an upper-class family—made me question the accuracy of her representation of the realities of sugar plantations in nineteenth-century Venezuela.  For Mama Blanca and her sister Evelyn, “the mill was a club, theater, city” (84). The mill “seemed heaven” to them, which is quite different than what we normally would imagine when thinking of a mill. While Mama Blanca knew that “[p]eople did not gather at the mill to amuse themselves[,]” she nevertheless depicted the mill as “full of life and color” (86). This representation of the mill as “heaven-like” seems to reflect more about Mama Blanca’s social class and privilege, rather than providing an accurate representation of the realities of the mill. On a wider perspective, this reminded me that a story is a form of representation and image construction that is heavily built upon the author’s point of view.

Question: Mama Blanca stated that she sometimes “demanded an ‘old story,’ but stipulating tyrannical changes that reflected the varying states or desires of [her] spirit” (32). Do you have any experiences of allowing your imagination and feelings to create new endings to stories?