This was a welcome change of pace after the brain-bashing I took from last week’s reading. I like that this tale isn’t linear, leans into the abstract, toys with the idea of time and purgatory, yet reads quite smoothly despite these inherent complexities. I didn’t struggle through this one—rather, I very much enjoyed it. And the writing is not only beautiful, but also really clever! I love the description of the heat in Comala: “They say that when people from there die and go to hell, they come back for a blanket” (6). I love the sifting memories echoing through the abandoned town, windows into the minds and perspectives of Susana, Dorotea, Abundio… I’ll admit that the novel’s refusal to follow a linear path was confusing at times, but also necessary in a way? This story demonstrates that time isn’t linear, that ghosts are just as alive as they are dead if their recollections live on within the land. The town exists in its own plain, and this is exemplified well through the vignette-like, episodic delineation of the novel.
One pervading theme that leaped out at me was the misogyny, the mistreatment and abuse of the women in the town. The introduction of Donis and his sister, and then later, Susana and her father, was incredibly uncomfortable. Though I don’t think it’s confirmed that Susana’s father was abusing her, that was the impression I gathered, particularly when following the obvious incestuous relationship between Donis and his poor sister who I interpreted as miserable (eg. “since he made me his woman […] I’ve been closed up here, because I’m afraid to be seen. […] Don’t you see my sin? [51]) but of only knowing, therefore feeling trapped within the life she’s lived captive by her brother (eg. “life had joined us together, herded us like animals, forced us on each other” [52]). I also think the end of that quote is intentional given the assault present throughout the novel, almost exclusively at the hands of Pedro and Miguel. Yet, amid these horrors, we’re exposed to the narratives of the women of the village. Juan listens. Juan’s been sent on this journey by his mother, Dolorita. In this way, I believe the female characters of this novel work behind the scenes, pulling the strings, unravelling the events of the story. A sort of reclamation of their voices and their power. This really moved me.
It was interesting reading in the introduction that Gabriel García Márquez loved this novel to the extent of memorising the whole thing; it makes me curious to see whether One Hundred Years will bear any similarities in theme or stylistic choice.
How did you feel about the female characters in this novel? Did you find their narratives to be more empowering or disempowering? Perhaps a combination?
You noticed two important aspects in this novel: that the gender issue is at the core of the narrative and that the way in which the vignettes are presented have a meaning that contributes to the ambiguity of the situations and characters. What can we know about the women who appear here? Can we even be sure which are male and female voices? What relevance does this have?
The female characters in the novel all have tragic stories. Susana is particularly highlighted to have a challenging background as an orphan and widow with an abusive second husband. Dorotea is tormented by her inability to have children. Many others are subject to misogyny and abuse. I wouldn’t say their narratives are empowering.
I consider that female characters are portrayed in a complex manner, and as you said, there is a combination of the images of women that are given. On the one hand, they are represented as victims of the power structures, on the other, they are depicted as strong and resilient.
For instance, through the story of the character of Susana, Rulfo explores the way that love and women can be corrupted by power, depicting them as slightly disempowering. However, there are also examples of female characters who are portrayed as strong and resilient, like the character of Dolorita, a woman who has suffered a tragedy and heartbreak but still remains strong and determined.
Hi Neko! Really enjoyed your perspective on the frequent rotten treatment of women, as it was certainly something that stuck out to me while unraveling this story. Your phrasing of seeing these women ‘work behind the scenes’ to orchestrate many events interests me, as I hadn’t thought about the women’s actions in this way but it clicks in my brain now that you’ve identified it. I think due to the time period Rulfo is trying to paint, the treatment of women makes sense. I think also that their tragedy is used to make sense of what type of person Pedro is, to amplify his nastiness, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the women have no autonomy. One of the main storytellers is of course Eduviges, and Susana is a catalyst for many events. I think, as you said, the women are more in the background but are vital for many plot elements just as are the men in the novel. Great discussion!
Hi Neko, great post! As with many stories from this time period, I felt sorry for them for the most part. I don’t really see their stories as having been empowering, especially considering the number of them that were sexually assaulted, or how early on in the story we had to see someone beg her friend to sleep with her husband because he wouldn’t agree to wait a few days. That said, they play important roles in the story and aren’t simply there for window decoration