Author Archives: Clandestino

Locas Mujeres

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For this week’s reading, as in my last post, I was conflicted. After watching the lecture, I was affirmed of that confliction and also guided to understand empathetically the possible reality of Gabriela Mistral.

My conflict with reading this poetry book was that for claiming to be a Latin American poet, more times than not, it felt like I was reading a European one. With so many references to the classic mythologies and other narratives derived from Europe, I struggled to see the intended “Latin American” picture. This is also my own fault as I have grown to understand that I have a resentment to reading classical European stories, figures, or ideas (though I enjoy them and have referenced them in my own stories) due to my personal conflict with being born and raised in Canada. I always wanted to return to Argentina and learn more about literature or oral history that was exempt of European influence, and since I never did, narratives containing these ideas — the same ones that I learned about here in Canada — it always made me wonder what stories were lone in solidarity as Latin American.

I still am waiting to find that out, though I have come across some literature as such, but with Mistral’s poetry book, I did suffer a bit of displacement due to it. Though, on the other hand, her expression of certain topics like loss within loss, her own narrative of displacement, and distinct portrayals of betrayal within being a woman were undeniably beautiful, empowering, and haunting. She is a true poet, needless to say, but after watching the lecture video, and after reading the introduction, I was able to empathize her situation more so.

Despite my sentiments expressed formally, I did connect with a lot of her imagined and told feeling. As a Latino, even being raised here in Canada, the desire she talks about as Chileans leaving their country to explore or fulfil something inexplainable is something I think a lot of Latin Americans share, and especially in relation to the old continent of Europe. Julio Cortazar mentioned that we Latinos have a certain calling to the old continent and it may not be so for everyone, but for some reason it seems to be a popular sentiment. It is with this sentiment that I, and I think a lot more people as well, feel a complacency and conflict with self, reality, and history as just like in this post, I started with a feeling of conflict and displacement with Mistral’s work due to its European grounding; now, ironically, I am disclosing that I do not deny the polar  desire that I possess to historically explore and live in Europe just as much as I want to do the same for the Americas.

That was a mess of an explanation, but I wanted to mention it to try to empathize with Mistral and the life she lived as an icon of the America’s while not residing in her Chile and “Latin America” for her final 30 years of life and fame.

Aside from the political and cultural ramifications of being an individual with such an acclaimed persona as being a poet, let alone THE supposed Latin American Poet as according to the Nobel Prize committee, her poetry is timeless and tangible for most, if not, everyone who reads it. It pains me to know that she might have not been able to express herself as she would have liked too but I can also understand why she didn’t reveal all that she could of. As a public figure, one’s own personal pleasures and pursuits sometimes do not correspond with the representational value of their public persona. It is a shame that it was and still is that way. It’d be nice to just let people be so we may enjoy the overarching best of themselves. But the world has an agenda and it seems everyone, even Gabriela Mistral, have to abide by it. Though, I like to think that things are changing.

For my question, it may be a very controversial one, but after watching the lecture I wondered about this since the era of the 20th century wasn’t the most progressive and the justification of Nobel Prize committee for not awarding the prize to more Latin Americans or non europeans was not very reasonable.

Since the Nobel prize committee labeled Mistral as the voice of Latin America, and if it were true that she was a closet lesbian, do you think, that if Mistral’s sexual preference was disclosed to the committee, it would have influenced her candidacy? I hope not, but I wonder if that was something that haunted her after she accepted the award.

The Underdogs / Los de Abajo

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This week’s book, The Underdogs, by Mariano Azuela is vitally important in trying to understand  how the Mexican revolution was lived by revolutionists and those who crossed their path.

The book is heavily dialogue driven, revealing the intended nature of the characters while historical events guided the book’s plot. I was regularly enthralled, horrified, and contempt throughout the reading of the book, but most of all, I appreciate the significance of the book as an honest attempt in detailing a bit of the revolutionary culture created by its acting agents.

For me, the book always brought up the themes of crime, punishment, justice, machismo, brutality, innocence, honour or lack of, tradition, greed, and justification. There are probably many more to mention but these are the ones that come to mind for now. Though many of the ideas formally mentioned could be combined, I do feel that they all deserve their own consideration.

There is a phrase about insanity that says it is insane to attempt to something that always yields the same results, but on the next attempt, the insane expects different. This comes to mind when I romanticize about a revolution. This book once again demonstrates that a revolution can  and may corrupt more than reform a man’s intentions, as the temptation of power remains  while the revolutionist attempts to overthrow the idea of irresponsible power.

This book is horrifying as it is romantic. I guess that could be a part of the revolutionary nature. It is horrifying because of the way the innocent are treated. My wife, as a Mexican woman, despises Pancho Villa for the machismo rapist he is known to be, while my father, being a Mexican man, has a sense of idolatry for the controversial man. The romantic aspect could be displayed by which the books ends. The general Demetrio Macias, as almost the last man, shots and hits his enemy while the raining inevitability of his defeat thunders on. To the last man, in a revolutionary way, is romanticism in its mortal finding.

Overall, I highly appreciate the book and find it empowering, especially for those of us who have Mexican heritage, since it acts as an honest attempt in educating us, the future, of what it may have been like in the years well before our own. The empowering part for me is first understanding the extent of the revolutions consequences, as the revolutionary party of PRI has failed its ideal and the Mexican people, but also understanding that the act of the revolution was not just for the people of its time. Though it had good intentions of fair distribution of land and wealth, the actions deplored to achieve this is detestable. But when it war, as the book mentions at the end, it seems that every man is for himself.

It pains me to know the extent us men, or people in general, are wiling to go just to justify our actions or to feel righteous about them. This melancholy I feel is what always happens to me when I read about revolutions because it makes me wonder that maybe revolution is to pure of an ideal for us mortal beings to uphold.

What do you think? Do you think a revolution, with its new moral standards and intention to be fair and equal to all, is to high of an order to ask of us, the people that just want to live however we want to live?

 

Mama Blanca’s Memoir

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The memoir’s of Mama Blanca seemed to be possible examples of euphoria vs. nostalgia, and rural life vs. city life. Furthermore, I would say the question on modernity is more present than suspected since there was so much reference to european concepts (some I can quite remember) like religion and historical mentions of Simon Bolivar and Napoleon. Lastly, I think there was a great spirit of mysticism throughout the narrative.

The book was an infusion of a nostalgic recollection and a mature sophisticated  voice. I often wondered if the woman from the foreword had changed only a bit, or had changed much, or had changed none at all. As a result, sometimes I wasn’t sure if the descriptions were Blanca Nieve’s or the woman’s since the foreword shared a lot of similarities in voice. As a result of this narrative embedded in the past, it sometimes felt surreal as a reader, probably because of the time and setting in the writing is so foreign to my own conception of time and setting, and probably because of the language used in it was so distinct from the dialogue and the events.

As a reader, the mentioning of those European topics made me wonder the period in which they were living in, though I think it was the mid 19th century, but more so to the fact of what was happening in Venezuela other than in Piedra Azul. For that reason, I think there was a the humming theme of modernity slipping in and out while I read because in the narrative, modernity seemed to be excluded except for some of the topics I formally mentioned.

One word that came up for me in an attempt to describe this book in one word was mysticism, in the philosophical sense, and more specifically, possibly a child’s mysticism if that even makes sense. From the little I know about mysticism, I know that for better or for worse, it is about the greater unity one has with reality. Throughout the book, there seemed to be this spirit in small nodes. Blanca Nieves and her sisters were the innocent and unapologetic beings that were married to their curiosity for their land and for their people.

As an overall reflection on the book, I thought it was a great way to see what rural Venezuela was like after their independence. Though the country was free, this narrative seemed to show that there was still some indifference to the equality aspect of freedom and I wonder if the workers of Piedra Azul felt some type of resentment towards Blanca Nieves Father.

My question to prepose is how would you describe Mama Blanca’s memoir in one word?

 

 

Lo Primero

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Hi everyone,

This is my week 1 post.

For this week’s blog post, I will introduce myself a bit and also comment on this weeks lecture video.

For starters, I am originally from Calgary. I was born there but not all of me was created there. The genesis of the personality that I have now started in Buenos Aires, where my mother is native to. We moved there when I was 3 and remained until I was six, which, evidently, happened to be the year of Argentinas economic collapse in 2001. Throughout those three years living in Argentina, my soul and being were highly influenced by my mother’s original culture. Years later, after already having lived over a decade in Calgary, I met my father who is from Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. Eventually, I moved to his beautiful costal city and tried to be one more.

Throughout those journeys, I ended up in Vancouver as a student at UBC, which is where you find me now.

In the lecture video, the idea of not approaching literature in one single way is fascinating but also challenging. Throughout my experience in academia, I have sometimes felt the need to complete assignments instead of approaching them with care. If there is anything I hope to achieve in this course, it is to approach the literature with the sense of care and nurturing through close reading.


– Clandestino