Tag Archives: Revolution

Week 11, Bolaño, Distant Star

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 6 – Carpentier, “The Kingdom of This World”

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Alejo Carpentier’s The Kingdom of this World was an exciting read. The novel touched upon interesting themes like colonialism, revolution, race, slavery, power dynamics, and, most importantly, magic realism—which I have placed most thought towards while reading. The novel is a masterful example of magic realism, blending the real and the surreal to create a vivid and enchanting narrative. This week’s lecture was also particularly interesting as it focused a lot about magic realism, or “marvelous real,” and how it was proposed in the Prologue of the original 1949 novel.

Professor Jon’s quote, “the idea that fiction can supersede reality, emerges as a more appropriate vehicle for history than does ‘history’ itself[,]” seemed as a spot on description of Carpentier’s work, and an accurate summary of the underlying idea of magic realism (1). While reading the novel, it felt like history and fantasy were being weaved together, creating a surreal and dreamlike setting—where the line between reality and imagination were blurred. While the Haitian Revolution was a historical event, the depiction of it and the events Ti Noel goes through were quite mystical. Still, I spent a lot of time thinking about the idea of magic realism itself—specifically, what exactly it could be. The idea is still unclear to me, despite trying to find a clear example of it within Carpentier’s book. Some of the thoughts I went through include: “Why is magic realism known as a production—or innovation—of Latin American literature?”; “How can we distinguish between magic realism and the more European notion of ‘surrealism’?”

Another aspect of the book that I enjoyed was the way freedom was portrayed. Leading up to and throughout the revolution, Ti Noel remained committed to the cause of freedom, and he participated in the final battle for independence. Ti Noel reflected on the meaning of freedom and the price that must be paid for it. It felt like he realized that true freedom is not just about physical liberation, but also about spiritual and emotional liberation.

Lastly, I would like to read some book reviews—or critiques—on this book just for my own curiosity. It was intriguing to learn about the “conjuncture or interplay between the European and the African, the West and its Other, that gives the real marvellous or marvellous real” (Lectrue 8, 6). Thinking beyond the context of Carpentier’s book and its particular celebration of “African-derived religiosity[,]” I would like to approach magic realism in more of a historical point of view—in a context of comparison between Europe, America, and Africa (6).

Question: For you, were there any particular events or scenes from the book that exemplified what “magic realism” could be?

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?