I suppose that more than any other question in this course that I have asked myself, the one that has been the most pertinent to me, has been “Who am I?”. Identity seems to have been something most (if not all) the authors and their characters in this class have struggled to define. Whether born in one country and raised in another, raised and born in the same country but discovering that identity can still not be found, or thrown into exile and struggling to define if you are one-thing or another, it almost seems something that immigrants, if not a majority of people, may fight with at one point in their lives or other.
I feel like society today really aims to categorize people, to literally place them in boxes. It seems at times almost an obsession.
Check ONE of the following:
African, Asian, East Asian, Middle-Eastern, Pacific Islander, Caucasian, Hispanic, Latino/Chicano, Native American, Other.
What if a person wants to check more than one box? Are they thus forced to check other? Or what if they don’t want to be identified as an “other”? What if what they identify as isn’t even a box that can be filled? What if they do not want to check a box altogether? Or why is blank space not provided so people can self identify?
This course and its readings and discussions have made me question who I am, and also made me conscious that this is not at all an uncommon question. I was born in the United States, in Seattle. My mother from Indonesia, but her ancestry is Chinese. She sees herself as an American though, even though she doesn’t have her US citizenship. My father was born and raised in Washington, to a Canadian mother and an American father. Combined, he is Native American-Dutch-German-Norwegian-Canadian-Scottish-French. But he identifies as American. And I study in Canada. So what does that make me? An American-Canadian-Indonesian-Native American-Chinese-Dutch-German-Norwegian-Scottish-French-Seattlite (that happens to be studying Spanish)?
Does the order in which people state “what they are” or “who they are matter”?
I choose not to define myself. At least not right now.
What about you?
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Sunday, November 16, 2008
A true story
This book is undoubtedly an autobiography of sorts. Through each of her stories in “and a body to remember with”, Rodriguez, in one shape or form, infuses her own, non-fictional experiences into her fictional characters.
I’ve read this book twice. Once before Max and I interviewed Carmen Rodriguez for our Wikipedia project, and now, two months later. The deeper I delve into this book of short stories, the more I find flickers of Rodriguez’s own life, her own experiences, some an exact parallel to her life but with the altering of names.
I actually realized that I could rebuild Rodriguez’s biography just from phrases in “and a body to remember with”. Here goes…(I don’t know if I can include it all though!)
“I am from Chile…I came twenty years ago with my Chilean husband and my five-year-old daughter” (111). Later, Rodriguez writes that she arrived in Buenos Aires on December 13,1973 (157). She also mentions she lived outside of Chile “until we got the permit to come to Canada as refugees” (157). ------------------Rodriguez left Chile with her husband at the time and their five and six year old daughters. She left Chile on December 15th, 1973, only days after her fictional character did.
In the first story, Rodriguez talks about moving to Canada, and mentions she has two (young) daughters, Natalia and Panchi--------------------in real life, they are Carmen and Alejandra.
In a balanced diet, Rodriguez describes the execution of those close to her---------this also occurred in her life.
She and her husband, in this story, then separated (112). ---------------------------This occurred in Rodriguez’s life.
“When Carmen Rodriguez was told that she could go back to Chile, she was invaded by a mixture of excitement and terror, anxiety and nostalgia” (32). She also mentions, later, “Santiago has become a clean city. As clean as oblivion” (153). -------------------In her interview, Rodriguez told us that she returned many many years later, also mentioning that Chileans, when she came back, were “suffering from Collective Amnesia”, and that the country had changed.
Carmen Rodriguez “was one of those members of the Chilean Resistance to the Pinochet regime” (48). --------------------She spent time doing “underground work of a disclosed type” in Bolivia and Chile, such as seen in “I sing, therefore I am”.
Rodriguez mentions the “hills of Valparaiso” (61), “Macul in the fall, Valdivia river” (129), “her childhood in Valdivia and her life as a university student in Santiago” (121), and in the story “breaking the ice”, mentions the train ride “between Antilhue and Valdivia” (109), and in “bodily yearnings” mentions some of the phantoms of places she grew up “Valdivia river” “Valdivia river boulevard” “Plaza de Armas” (132), “Valparaiso” (152), “Madness of Santiago” (151).------------------ Valdivia and Valparaiso were two places where Carmen spent a majority of her early life. She attended school at the University of Chile in Santiago.
“…the five hundred year anniversary of the foundation of Valdivia, the resistance of the Mapuche”(144)---------Rodriguez actually told the story about the Mapuche and Valdivia to Max and me during the interview.
“My mom, arriving at the Vancouver airport with a huge package in her hands...all the way from Quillota, Chile”(142), “…tell the children about Chile” (144). “Twenty years without her children and grandchildren”(143), “…since I am the only daughter” (145).-----------------This describes Rodriguez’s mother, who visited her family in Canada though she could not speak English. Rodriguez is the only daughter.
“Tony, my Canadian companion” (145)-------------------Rodriguez herself had a “Canadian Companion” by the name of Bob, whom she married and then divorced”.
In “trespass” she alludes that she traveled Canada to spread ( and sing ) her revolutionary thoughts, which she did.
Carmen Rodriguez “concluded that a computer would have been useful to cut and paste, edit, change spaces, times” (54).-----------------This is what she did years later, when she wrote this book.
I think that’s enough! I can’t get through it all.
I’ve read this book twice. Once before Max and I interviewed Carmen Rodriguez for our Wikipedia project, and now, two months later. The deeper I delve into this book of short stories, the more I find flickers of Rodriguez’s own life, her own experiences, some an exact parallel to her life but with the altering of names.
I actually realized that I could rebuild Rodriguez’s biography just from phrases in “and a body to remember with”. Here goes…(I don’t know if I can include it all though!)
“I am from Chile…I came twenty years ago with my Chilean husband and my five-year-old daughter” (111). Later, Rodriguez writes that she arrived in Buenos Aires on December 13,1973 (157). She also mentions she lived outside of Chile “until we got the permit to come to Canada as refugees” (157). ------------------Rodriguez left Chile with her husband at the time and their five and six year old daughters. She left Chile on December 15th, 1973, only days after her fictional character did.
In the first story, Rodriguez talks about moving to Canada, and mentions she has two (young) daughters, Natalia and Panchi--------------------in real life, they are Carmen and Alejandra.
In a balanced diet, Rodriguez describes the execution of those close to her---------this also occurred in her life.
She and her husband, in this story, then separated (112). ---------------------------This occurred in Rodriguez’s life.
“When Carmen Rodriguez was told that she could go back to Chile, she was invaded by a mixture of excitement and terror, anxiety and nostalgia” (32). She also mentions, later, “Santiago has become a clean city. As clean as oblivion” (153). -------------------In her interview, Rodriguez told us that she returned many many years later, also mentioning that Chileans, when she came back, were “suffering from Collective Amnesia”, and that the country had changed.
Carmen Rodriguez “was one of those members of the Chilean Resistance to the Pinochet regime” (48). --------------------She spent time doing “underground work of a disclosed type” in Bolivia and Chile, such as seen in “I sing, therefore I am”.
Rodriguez mentions the “hills of Valparaiso” (61), “Macul in the fall, Valdivia river” (129), “her childhood in Valdivia and her life as a university student in Santiago” (121), and in the story “breaking the ice”, mentions the train ride “between Antilhue and Valdivia” (109), and in “bodily yearnings” mentions some of the phantoms of places she grew up “Valdivia river” “Valdivia river boulevard” “Plaza de Armas” (132), “Valparaiso” (152), “Madness of Santiago” (151).------------------ Valdivia and Valparaiso were two places where Carmen spent a majority of her early life. She attended school at the University of Chile in Santiago.
“…the five hundred year anniversary of the foundation of Valdivia, the resistance of the Mapuche”(144)---------Rodriguez actually told the story about the Mapuche and Valdivia to Max and me during the interview.
“My mom, arriving at the Vancouver airport with a huge package in her hands...all the way from Quillota, Chile”(142), “…tell the children about Chile” (144). “Twenty years without her children and grandchildren”(143), “…since I am the only daughter” (145).-----------------This describes Rodriguez’s mother, who visited her family in Canada though she could not speak English. Rodriguez is the only daughter.
“Tony, my Canadian companion” (145)-------------------Rodriguez herself had a “Canadian Companion” by the name of Bob, whom she married and then divorced”.
In “trespass” she alludes that she traveled Canada to spread ( and sing ) her revolutionary thoughts, which she did.
Carmen Rodriguez “concluded that a computer would have been useful to cut and paste, edit, change spaces, times” (54).-----------------This is what she did years later, when she wrote this book.
I think that’s enough! I can’t get through it all.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Latina Barbie
Is it just me, or are there numerous references to Barbie in the works we have read? Cisneros had Barbie-Q, in “Never Marry a Mexican” (I believe it was that story), the man’s wife was described as a red-haired Barbie, and in Alvarez’s book, in the story “Floor Show”, we see “a dozen dark-haired Barbie dolls dressed like Spanish señoritas…she was a perfect replica...dressed in a long, glittery gown with a pretty tortoise shell comb in her hair…” (183-184), which Sandi eventually uses to “thank” the American Mrs. Fanning.
I guess Barbie dolls have the ability to be the manufactured stars in the eyes of young girls around the world, and I can see their symbolic importance in certain contexts. I used to play with Barbie when I was younger. I remember wanting to have all of her clothes, and I wanted to (unfortunately when I was five) work at Pizza Hut like “Pizza Party Skipper”. I wanted it to be easy to identify myself with a doll, and in a way, play out the mansion-convertible-fifteen-cats life that I did not have. I also always wanted Mattel’s “Hispanic” Barbie with the dark hair “-Theresa (you girls know which one is Theresa!), and I would always settle for Christie, Barbie’s African-American friend. However, I was always less receptive to blonde Barbie. She just was so unlike me. I guess you could say I had “Barbie Syndrome”.
Side Note: Please Wikipedia “Barbie Syndrome”. It is actually quite sick, as is “Ken Syndrome”. Also, if you look into Barbie’s redheaded friend “Midge” on Wikipedia…that is also quite interesting.
Along the lines of this “Barbie Syndrome”, I can see why Alvarez may have put Barbie into Sandi’s recollection of her experience at “El Flamenco”. The dark-haired “Spanish” Barbie seems an interesting connection to Alvarez’s story. Whether or not Sandi usually had a preference for blonde, brunette, or redhead Barbie, she seemed determined to have the dark haired Spanish one at the end of the night. This makes me wonder: did Sandi choose this doll because it resembled her? Or was it because of her Spanish roots? Or was it because the Barbie doll looked nice? Or was it because the “American” (maybe non-Latina looking) Mrs. Fanning, who had already upset Sandi, did NOT resemble this doll that resembled Sandi’s mother, and she was using this doll as a way to express her identification?
I guess Barbie dolls have the ability to be the manufactured stars in the eyes of young girls around the world, and I can see their symbolic importance in certain contexts. I used to play with Barbie when I was younger. I remember wanting to have all of her clothes, and I wanted to (unfortunately when I was five) work at Pizza Hut like “Pizza Party Skipper”. I wanted it to be easy to identify myself with a doll, and in a way, play out the mansion-convertible-fifteen-cats life that I did not have. I also always wanted Mattel’s “Hispanic” Barbie with the dark hair “-Theresa (you girls know which one is Theresa!), and I would always settle for Christie, Barbie’s African-American friend. However, I was always less receptive to blonde Barbie. She just was so unlike me. I guess you could say I had “Barbie Syndrome”.
Side Note: Please Wikipedia “Barbie Syndrome”. It is actually quite sick, as is “Ken Syndrome”. Also, if you look into Barbie’s redheaded friend “Midge” on Wikipedia…that is also quite interesting.
Along the lines of this “Barbie Syndrome”, I can see why Alvarez may have put Barbie into Sandi’s recollection of her experience at “El Flamenco”. The dark-haired “Spanish” Barbie seems an interesting connection to Alvarez’s story. Whether or not Sandi usually had a preference for blonde, brunette, or redhead Barbie, she seemed determined to have the dark haired Spanish one at the end of the night. This makes me wonder: did Sandi choose this doll because it resembled her? Or was it because of her Spanish roots? Or was it because the Barbie doll looked nice? Or was it because the “American” (maybe non-Latina looking) Mrs. Fanning, who had already upset Sandi, did NOT resemble this doll that resembled Sandi’s mother, and she was using this doll as a way to express her identification?
Monday, November 3, 2008
Uprooted and Planted
I am not going to lie, I read this book before this term started, and I am not going to lie, I fell asleep re-reading it last night.
I enjoyed this book the first time I read it, and I am enjoying it the second time around as well. Alvarez's words are fluid, but also strong. For me, this is my favorite work so far. I like that it is both fragmented and connected at the same time, with each sister's experiences and amount of adaptation and assimilation being different though their core-experiences remain inter-twined.
Alvarez's reverse chronological order also makes sense to me. It is as if each character speaks to their situation now, and then looks back and reminisces to their past in relation to who they are now and how their past molded and influenced them. This almost makes you think, in these snips of narration, what made Sandra-Yolanda-Sofia-Carla act the way they do in this passage?
I find a profoundly large gap between what I see as the "north-American" importance of family and the Latin-American one. I grew up in the US, and yes I love my family, and I also respect my elders. My three siblings and I do talk, we keep in touch, and we joke and share memories, but I still feel that this is to such a minor extent compared to the Garcia girls. "We took turns being the wildest.First one, then another of us would confess our sins on vacation nights after the parents went to bed, and we had double-checked the hall" (85). The closeness of family and their importance through good and bad times really astounded me and left me in awe. It made me pine for my own family being like that.
Perhaps, however, the sisters were so close because they were uprooted,imported, and planted into foreign soil. I guess I would also stick with those and to those who had something in common with me, who understood me and the way I acted. And in many cases, this would be your family. It really makes me wonder...
if I would have moved to another country at a young age, would my siblings and I be any closer than we are today? Or is it just "the culture" I was raised in?
I enjoyed this book the first time I read it, and I am enjoying it the second time around as well. Alvarez's words are fluid, but also strong. For me, this is my favorite work so far. I like that it is both fragmented and connected at the same time, with each sister's experiences and amount of adaptation and assimilation being different though their core-experiences remain inter-twined.
Alvarez's reverse chronological order also makes sense to me. It is as if each character speaks to their situation now, and then looks back and reminisces to their past in relation to who they are now and how their past molded and influenced them. This almost makes you think, in these snips of narration, what made Sandra-Yolanda-Sofia-Carla act the way they do in this passage?
I find a profoundly large gap between what I see as the "north-American" importance of family and the Latin-American one. I grew up in the US, and yes I love my family, and I also respect my elders. My three siblings and I do talk, we keep in touch, and we joke and share memories, but I still feel that this is to such a minor extent compared to the Garcia girls. "We took turns being the wildest.First one, then another of us would confess our sins on vacation nights after the parents went to bed, and we had double-checked the hall" (85). The closeness of family and their importance through good and bad times really astounded me and left me in awe. It made me pine for my own family being like that.
Perhaps, however, the sisters were so close because they were uprooted,imported, and planted into foreign soil. I guess I would also stick with those and to those who had something in common with me, who understood me and the way I acted. And in many cases, this would be your family. It really makes me wonder...
if I would have moved to another country at a young age, would my siblings and I be any closer than we are today? Or is it just "the culture" I was raised in?
Saturday, October 25, 2008
in a heartbeat
“Woman Hollering Creek” seemed to chronicle and follow a heartbeat. One representing love. This book’s love, its stories, its heartbeats, were at times slow, steady, and poignant. Other times, it captured the Chicana experience and palpitated and fluttered like a ladybug in a glass jar. The love in this book, and moreover the stories in this book were, much like love, sometimes short, and sometimes eternal. At times, a bit predictable and practical, other times a fantastic freefall into an unknown oblivion. Strong, yet vulnerable.
After reading the first half of the book, consisting of shorter stories, I found the last two stories “Bien Pretty” and “The Eyes of Zapata” initially unwelcome. I was thoroughly enjoying the short format of the stories of the book when while languishing and leisurely letting myself absorb their content, but alas, I still pondered “when is this story going to end?” Maybe it is just my short attention span, or that in “The Eyes of Zapata”, I was taken aback by the analogy of the bird flying and found it (a bit) less realistic than the other stories in the book. However, with time, I started to falter and again become weak to Cisnero’s literary charms. I found myself becoming engaged in the stories, so much so that at times I felt as more of an actor in the books than a reader. And thought it may seem an obvious statement to make, I enjoyed the somewhat chronological order (in the age of the narrator) of the stories….from the tender and young love of a friend “Lucy”, to a different sort of love between Lupe and Flavio in “Bien Pretty”.
I also appreciate that some of the stories had a specific time and place, from the modern San Francisco to the late 19th century. I also really appreciated that Cisneros touched on Chicana culture in “Bien Pretty”, and took someone raised in the US and used her as a character in her story.
This book was a pleasure to read. Like popcorn at the movie theatre, I just wanted more and more (except I am sure “Woman Hollering Creek” is probably less in calories!).
After reading the first half of the book, consisting of shorter stories, I found the last two stories “Bien Pretty” and “The Eyes of Zapata” initially unwelcome. I was thoroughly enjoying the short format of the stories of the book when while languishing and leisurely letting myself absorb their content, but alas, I still pondered “when is this story going to end?” Maybe it is just my short attention span, or that in “The Eyes of Zapata”, I was taken aback by the analogy of the bird flying and found it (a bit) less realistic than the other stories in the book. However, with time, I started to falter and again become weak to Cisnero’s literary charms. I found myself becoming engaged in the stories, so much so that at times I felt as more of an actor in the books than a reader. And thought it may seem an obvious statement to make, I enjoyed the somewhat chronological order (in the age of the narrator) of the stories….from the tender and young love of a friend “Lucy”, to a different sort of love between Lupe and Flavio in “Bien Pretty”.
I also appreciate that some of the stories had a specific time and place, from the modern San Francisco to the late 19th century. I also really appreciated that Cisneros touched on Chicana culture in “Bien Pretty”, and took someone raised in the US and used her as a character in her story.
This book was a pleasure to read. Like popcorn at the movie theatre, I just wanted more and more (except I am sure “Woman Hollering Creek” is probably less in calories!).
Sunday, October 19, 2008
8 for 1 special
Reading "Woman Hollering Creek" (well, the first half) was like going into a Chinese restaurant and being able to get 8 different types of dim sum for the price of one. Am I the only one who thinks that reading Cisernos' work is like...reading the work of numerous authors? Her use of voice allows her audience to hear the inside thoughts of her characters as well as their speaking voices. One story sounds like a telenovela, another, a tragedy, another a scene from Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. It is almost as if "Woman Hollering Creek" is an anthology of Chicano Literature, each story as individual as the character telling it.
What I loved most about this book was the imagery. I was able to see "tri-ish" and hear her heels and see her hoop earrings and mini-skirt. I was able to smell the corn in the little girl's hair and I could feel the boredom that comes with being in a family of devout Catholics. I also appreciated, as some of you stated, that this book seemed -real-. It seemed like literal literature. A non-fictional fiction. There were no traces of devils or dyed skin in this book. Only stories I could hear actual people saying, whether it be in a kindergarten playground or in a skeezy, smoke clouded bar.
Though I feel we got a glimpse of what "Chicano Culture" is in the last book, I feel like this book exemplifies the hybrid culture that embodies Mexican-Americans who live around the border or around the United States and Canada. This book shows the joys and difficulties and that accompany Chicanos throughout their lives. The Latino influences and the "American" ones (who is to say who is an "American", Mexico is in America but that is another can of worms).
My main point is that this book is...real.
Oh, and when they Cisernos mentions "La Llorona", I remembered this scene from the movie "Frida". Beautiful. http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=0gQ31m4Yt0s"
What I loved most about this book was the imagery. I was able to see "tri-ish" and hear her heels and see her hoop earrings and mini-skirt. I was able to smell the corn in the little girl's hair and I could feel the boredom that comes with being in a family of devout Catholics. I also appreciated, as some of you stated, that this book seemed -real-. It seemed like literal literature. A non-fictional fiction. There were no traces of devils or dyed skin in this book. Only stories I could hear actual people saying, whether it be in a kindergarten playground or in a skeezy, smoke clouded bar.
Though I feel we got a glimpse of what "Chicano Culture" is in the last book, I feel like this book exemplifies the hybrid culture that embodies Mexican-Americans who live around the border or around the United States and Canada. This book shows the joys and difficulties and that accompany Chicanos throughout their lives. The Latino influences and the "American" ones (who is to say who is an "American", Mexico is in America but that is another can of worms).
My main point is that this book is...real.
Oh, and when they Cisernos mentions "La Llorona", I remembered this scene from the movie "Frida". Beautiful. http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=0gQ31m4Yt0s"
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Span322 Thus Far...
So, I apologize that I'm a few days late. It seems that going home for Thanksgiving and being in the middle of nowhere at Grandma's house means no internet.
I've thoroughly enjoyed this course so far. I feel it is one of the courses I have taken so far at the university level that is really engaging, and where I have to actually think, not just memorize.
Although I didn't initially enjoy the first three works we analyzed, looking back in retrospect, I find that these works were like a shot of vodka -- a bad taste at first, but with lingering taste later that makes you feel good.
A theme I connected with that was strung throughout Ruiz de Burton, Rivera, and Marti, along with "The Salt of the Earth" was the concept of "American". Of who is, and who is not. Being born and raised in the states, it is a concept that has been present my entire life. I feel as if in both private and public primary education in the US, we learn about how great our country is because it is "a melting pot of all cultures". But once you step outside to recess, you see all the Filipino kids playing together, all the African-American kids playing together, and all of the Caucasian kids playing together. And somehow the image of "American" is one that is primarily white.
To me, it seems like this...You can be an American if you parents were immigrants. You can be an American if your grandparents were immigrants. But only if your parents or grandparents (etc) immigrated from Europe. A family could have immigrated from China 150 years ago, and this family would somehow be viewed by the American public as "less American" than a family that immigrated from Germany 25 years ago. There is so much discrimination in the States. I can feel it from living in a liberal area of Washington State, and I can't even begin to talk about the almost bi-polarization of races in other parts of the US I have visited--southern California, North Carolina, South Dakota. It seems as if the US wants to call itself a "melting pot" or a "racial quilt" but wants to be able to pick what ingredients go into the pot or what fabric is used in the quilt.
Why is that?
I've thoroughly enjoyed this course so far. I feel it is one of the courses I have taken so far at the university level that is really engaging, and where I have to actually think, not just memorize.
Although I didn't initially enjoy the first three works we analyzed, looking back in retrospect, I find that these works were like a shot of vodka -- a bad taste at first, but with lingering taste later that makes you feel good.
A theme I connected with that was strung throughout Ruiz de Burton, Rivera, and Marti, along with "The Salt of the Earth" was the concept of "American". Of who is, and who is not. Being born and raised in the states, it is a concept that has been present my entire life. I feel as if in both private and public primary education in the US, we learn about how great our country is because it is "a melting pot of all cultures". But once you step outside to recess, you see all the Filipino kids playing together, all the African-American kids playing together, and all of the Caucasian kids playing together. And somehow the image of "American" is one that is primarily white.
To me, it seems like this...You can be an American if you parents were immigrants. You can be an American if your grandparents were immigrants. But only if your parents or grandparents (etc) immigrated from Europe. A family could have immigrated from China 150 years ago, and this family would somehow be viewed by the American public as "less American" than a family that immigrated from Germany 25 years ago. There is so much discrimination in the States. I can feel it from living in a liberal area of Washington State, and I can't even begin to talk about the almost bi-polarization of races in other parts of the US I have visited--southern California, North Carolina, South Dakota. It seems as if the US wants to call itself a "melting pot" or a "racial quilt" but wants to be able to pick what ingredients go into the pot or what fabric is used in the quilt.
Why is that?
Monday, October 6, 2008
on migrants
So, I'm back from the movie at the VIFF, "La Frontera Infinita" created in Mexico. It was, well, astounding.I highly recommend it to you all, but I believe I caught the last, and only showing. The documentary follows Mexicans, Salvadorians, Hondurans, and other Central Americans through their journeys and quests from their origins to their destinations (including shelters being built by those whose limbs had been severed by the trek on trains). However, there was no conclusive ending to the documentary, as there was no conclusive ending to Rivera's novel. And the documentary was at times scattered and scrambled as well, following different people and groups and different times. Perhaps it is because these problems are not clear or resolved, nor will they ever be.
Like one of the men said in the beginning of the movie (this isn't a direct quote, just what I remember..."there are a thousand mishaps in going north, and one hope. It is that one hope that keeps us going".
I feel bad for the poor man sitting next to me, because every once and awhile somebody would say something in the film, and I would think "Shit! I-should-write -that-down-so-I-don't-forget-so-I-can-write-that-in-my-blog", so I would scramble in my purse to find a pen and paper, substituted with eyeliner and Safeway receipts.
One of the things I scratched onto the receipt was something an middle-aged woman attempting to migrate again to the north said. It was something to the extent of "arm yourself with sticks and stones, because they will try to get you in the north." Personally, this made me upset and brought up the passage in Rivera's book in the first half of the novel about the boy being harassed by the gringos. It just made me agree with what another man said in "La Frontera Infinita"...
"Who are the migrants? Who are NOT the migrants?"
That is a question to think about.
Like one of the men said in the beginning of the movie (this isn't a direct quote, just what I remember..."there are a thousand mishaps in going north, and one hope. It is that one hope that keeps us going".
I feel bad for the poor man sitting next to me, because every once and awhile somebody would say something in the film, and I would think "Shit! I-should-write -that-down-so-I-don't-forget-so-I-can-write-that-in-my-blog", so I would scramble in my purse to find a pen and paper, substituted with eyeliner and Safeway receipts.
One of the things I scratched onto the receipt was something an middle-aged woman attempting to migrate again to the north said. It was something to the extent of "arm yourself with sticks and stones, because they will try to get you in the north." Personally, this made me upset and brought up the passage in Rivera's book in the first half of the novel about the boy being harassed by the gringos. It just made me agree with what another man said in "La Frontera Infinita"...
"Who are the migrants? Who are NOT the migrants?"
That is a question to think about.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
in a few hours
Hey ya'll,
I've read the rest of the book, but I'm about to go see a movie about border relations at the VIFF, and I think I can come up with some interesting parallels...the film is from Mexico, and it is called "The Infinite Border" or in Spanish "La Frontera Infinita". You can see a trailer here : http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=75C8ea77tiw.
I'll give you a report soon!
I've read the rest of the book, but I'm about to go see a movie about border relations at the VIFF, and I think I can come up with some interesting parallels...the film is from Mexico, and it is called "The Infinite Border" or in Spanish "La Frontera Infinita". You can see a trailer here : http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=75C8ea77tiw.
I'll give you a report soon!
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Not a children's book after all!
When I was standing in the tediously long UBC Bookstore line waiting to (at last) purchase my last book, I became bored flipping through the pages of magazines and looking at the grotesquely large price tags of the “UBC brand” merchandise. Subsequently, I decided to get a head start and look into the book, “…y no se lo tragó la tierra”, I was going to spend my money on. The first thing that struck me was “what kind of class did I sign up for where we are reading books about dragons? Is this some sort of Lord of the Rings and Dora the Explorer hybrid?”
Needless to say, I have enjoyed what I have read of Rivera’s book so far. Usually, I have the attention span of a six year old child when it comes to reading, and that attention span devolves into one of a four year old child when reading in a foreign language. However, I was rather captivated by Rivera’s work. It was easy to digest. Sure, at times it was difficult to follow who the narrator was (if there seemed to be one at all), and that the short stories seemed to be mixed quite a bit chronologically, I nonetheless enjoyed this book immensely. Perhaps Rivera keeps his main characters anonymous because their experiences could be those of anyone?
Something I found interesting about the book was the importance of religion. Perhaps it stood out for me personally because I feel that Latin-American cultures are more active in their religious beliefs that those of us in Canada or in the US. My family is one of those “twice a year” Catholic families that goes to church, well, twice a year. Once at Christmas, and once at Easter. This being said, the passage “Un Rezo” really struck me, and the apparent importance of religion really stood out. Also, the vocabulary words used seemed to be strongly religious at times, speaking about Satan and the Virgin Mary. To me, this religious dedication (er, rather recognition) is almost foreign. I was placed into a uniform wearing- nun-holding-ruler type of Catholic school, as were the generations before me, and still, I feel as if the only time my family prays is if we really want something or is something went really wrong. Sort of a “Catholic when it is convenient” type of deal.
Anyways, sorry I went off on that tangent. My main point is that I enjoyed the short-story like format of this book and I am really contrasting what importance religion plays in my life vs. the importance religion plays in the lives of the characters in Rivera’s book.
Needless to say, I have enjoyed what I have read of Rivera’s book so far. Usually, I have the attention span of a six year old child when it comes to reading, and that attention span devolves into one of a four year old child when reading in a foreign language. However, I was rather captivated by Rivera’s work. It was easy to digest. Sure, at times it was difficult to follow who the narrator was (if there seemed to be one at all), and that the short stories seemed to be mixed quite a bit chronologically, I nonetheless enjoyed this book immensely. Perhaps Rivera keeps his main characters anonymous because their experiences could be those of anyone?
Something I found interesting about the book was the importance of religion. Perhaps it stood out for me personally because I feel that Latin-American cultures are more active in their religious beliefs that those of us in Canada or in the US. My family is one of those “twice a year” Catholic families that goes to church, well, twice a year. Once at Christmas, and once at Easter. This being said, the passage “Un Rezo” really struck me, and the apparent importance of religion really stood out. Also, the vocabulary words used seemed to be strongly religious at times, speaking about Satan and the Virgin Mary. To me, this religious dedication (er, rather recognition) is almost foreign. I was placed into a uniform wearing- nun-holding-ruler type of Catholic school, as were the generations before me, and still, I feel as if the only time my family prays is if we really want something or is something went really wrong. Sort of a “Catholic when it is convenient” type of deal.
Anyways, sorry I went off on that tangent. My main point is that I enjoyed the short-story like format of this book and I am really contrasting what importance religion plays in my life vs. the importance religion plays in the lives of the characters in Rivera’s book.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Lost in a Crowd
When I started reading this seven-dollar booklet with Martí’s readings, I felt lost in a “muchedumbre”. There were so many foreign phrases, new vocabulary words, and colloquialisms that I was well, frankly, lost through quite a large portion of the booklet. I was convinced after the first three pages that reading this booklet would be like trying to board the 99-B line at rush hour in the morning…impossible without pushing through( however, I do appreciate though that these were short stories, unlike “Who Would Have Thought It?”).
I actually ended up quite enjoying these somewhat simple and civilian stories. I’m a big sucker for description, and Martí really hit the spot. His observations of the society encircling him at the time tell me he didn’t really have to have inspiration hit him like a bolt of lightening. Instead, he could find beauty and become inspired just (literally) going to work or looking out his front window. We encounter this for the first time two pages into the booklet, when Martí describes his neighbouring “neoyorquinos”:
“…Se apiñan hoy como entre tajos vecinos del tope a lo hondo en el corazón de una montaña, hebreos de perfil agudo y ojos ávidos, irlandeses joviales, alemanes carnosos y recios, escoceses son rosados y fornidos, hungaros bellos, negros lojosos, rusos,---de ojos que queman, noruegos de pelo rojo, japoneses elegantes, enjutos e indiferentes chinos” (Marti, “El Puente De Brooklyn”: 424).
I love that Martí’s readings really encapsulate the “immigrant” experience of being in a new place and having to work and come together as a community of different backgrounds to build something as astonishing s the Brooklyn Bridge. I really do feel this work could have been translated into any language and distributed to anywhere in the world during Marti’s life span, and it would have been interesting and inspiring for all.
I believe strongly that building a bridge, at least in Marti’s experience, was more than just a physical accomplishment…it was something that bridged all the neoyorquinos together.
I actually ended up quite enjoying these somewhat simple and civilian stories. I’m a big sucker for description, and Martí really hit the spot. His observations of the society encircling him at the time tell me he didn’t really have to have inspiration hit him like a bolt of lightening. Instead, he could find beauty and become inspired just (literally) going to work or looking out his front window. We encounter this for the first time two pages into the booklet, when Martí describes his neighbouring “neoyorquinos”:
“…Se apiñan hoy como entre tajos vecinos del tope a lo hondo en el corazón de una montaña, hebreos de perfil agudo y ojos ávidos, irlandeses joviales, alemanes carnosos y recios, escoceses son rosados y fornidos, hungaros bellos, negros lojosos, rusos,---de ojos que queman, noruegos de pelo rojo, japoneses elegantes, enjutos e indiferentes chinos” (Marti, “El Puente De Brooklyn”: 424).
I love that Martí’s readings really encapsulate the “immigrant” experience of being in a new place and having to work and come together as a community of different backgrounds to build something as astonishing s the Brooklyn Bridge. I really do feel this work could have been translated into any language and distributed to anywhere in the world during Marti’s life span, and it would have been interesting and inspiring for all.
I believe strongly that building a bridge, at least in Marti’s experience, was more than just a physical accomplishment…it was something that bridged all the neoyorquinos together.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
A Different Type of Fairy Godmother
Maybe there were no glass slippers or a robust matronly “fairy godmother” singing about bibbity-bobbity-boo in a pumpkin carriage, but as I progressed farther through Ruiz de Burton’s Who Would Have Thought It? , I started drawing more and more parallels between this lovely pink novel and the beloved tale of Cinderella.
Mrs. Norval is, for myself personally, Cinderella’s stepmother, who as seen throughout the novel, becomes progressively vile after her husband mysteriously disappears, leaving their “adopted” daughter Lola to a constantly chaperoned life, void of all the treasures she and her “father” acquired. Norval orders Lola around, sends her to a convent, and disapproves of Lola’s relationship with the prince (Julian), who seems to be, in Mrs. Norval’s eyes, of a better social standing and breeding than Lola.
Ruth and Maddie, Mrs. Norval’s biological daughters are the stepsisters. Just as in our favourite Disney movie, they are spoiled, fashionable, and will do anything for their mother or for a step up the social ladder. I wouldn’t go so far as saying Ruth and Maddie are “evil stepsisters”, but more that they were raised in an environment where social standing and making impressions upon the high-class society of New England were important. Even in the beginning of the novel we can see them moaning and groaning about how they have to wear the same dress all the time and only have one item of jewellery, ect, ect. There are actions and words of these Sisters I disagree with (for example when one of the sisters stated that she hated poor people), but generally speaking, I think these girls were more ignorant and, well stupid, than actually vicious. I have the feeling they never had the intention to hurt or offend, just to impress others and tell them what they wanted to hear. I feel these “stepsisters” Ruth and Maddie were more victims of their society than victimizers.
There was no person I could peg as the “fairy godmother” in Who Would Have Thought It? , but the concept of race could have been a replacement for this role. When thinking of Cinderella, I think of a transformation from a dirty, hardworking housemaid to a humble, envied, and beautiful maiden, who becomes the belle of the ball. The fairy godmother in the well known version of Cinderella basically wipes the ashes off poor Cindy’s face and gives her a new dress and thus, an opportunity to go to the ball and be respected. The fairy godmother in Ruiz de Burton’s novel is again the changing of race, wiping the coal (in this case dye) off Lola’s face, and transforming her into a white girl who is now able to “go to the ball” or into a New Englander’s society and be treated with more respect---thus giving Lola/Cinderella the opportunities usually only her sisters received. I find it peculiar that in both versions, the ingénue stays pure and modest, and that in both versions, the Prince/Julian love Cinderella/Lola regardless of what they were “transformed into.”
The underlying theme of Cinderella is oppression without a valid or logical reason, as is, I concur, the theme of this novel.
Mrs. Norval is, for myself personally, Cinderella’s stepmother, who as seen throughout the novel, becomes progressively vile after her husband mysteriously disappears, leaving their “adopted” daughter Lola to a constantly chaperoned life, void of all the treasures she and her “father” acquired. Norval orders Lola around, sends her to a convent, and disapproves of Lola’s relationship with the prince (Julian), who seems to be, in Mrs. Norval’s eyes, of a better social standing and breeding than Lola.
Ruth and Maddie, Mrs. Norval’s biological daughters are the stepsisters. Just as in our favourite Disney movie, they are spoiled, fashionable, and will do anything for their mother or for a step up the social ladder. I wouldn’t go so far as saying Ruth and Maddie are “evil stepsisters”, but more that they were raised in an environment where social standing and making impressions upon the high-class society of New England were important. Even in the beginning of the novel we can see them moaning and groaning about how they have to wear the same dress all the time and only have one item of jewellery, ect, ect. There are actions and words of these Sisters I disagree with (for example when one of the sisters stated that she hated poor people), but generally speaking, I think these girls were more ignorant and, well stupid, than actually vicious. I have the feeling they never had the intention to hurt or offend, just to impress others and tell them what they wanted to hear. I feel these “stepsisters” Ruth and Maddie were more victims of their society than victimizers.
There was no person I could peg as the “fairy godmother” in Who Would Have Thought It? , but the concept of race could have been a replacement for this role. When thinking of Cinderella, I think of a transformation from a dirty, hardworking housemaid to a humble, envied, and beautiful maiden, who becomes the belle of the ball. The fairy godmother in the well known version of Cinderella basically wipes the ashes off poor Cindy’s face and gives her a new dress and thus, an opportunity to go to the ball and be respected. The fairy godmother in Ruiz de Burton’s novel is again the changing of race, wiping the coal (in this case dye) off Lola’s face, and transforming her into a white girl who is now able to “go to the ball” or into a New Englander’s society and be treated with more respect---thus giving Lola/Cinderella the opportunities usually only her sisters received. I find it peculiar that in both versions, the ingénue stays pure and modest, and that in both versions, the Prince/Julian love Cinderella/Lola regardless of what they were “transformed into.”
The underlying theme of Cinderella is oppression without a valid or logical reason, as is, I concur, the theme of this novel.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Some things never change...
Some things never change. It has been over one-hundred years since this book was written, yet some of the social constructs and problems I observed in Ruiz de Burton’s Who Would Have Thought It still linger.
Throughout the novel thus far, it seems as if Lola’s prospects of marriage have been scare because she is not Caucasian and not from
Interracial relationships can still be seen as looked down in some societies or by some people today. Take my parents, for example. My father is Caucasian, and was raised in a rural, Catholic area of
When my mother’s family discovered the relationship between my parents was becoming more serious, they were, well, according to my mother, ecstatic. The Chinese in
However, on the other side of the Pacific, the reactions from my father’s side of the family were different. They grilled him, asking him things such as, “Why do you want to date a foreigner? And an Asian at that! From that Turbulent country we have never heard of? What was wrong with the girls back home? Why couldn’t he just date that nice blonde girl from your calculus class etc., etc”. I guess in that generation and in that time, interracial dating was very foreign (no pun intended) experience for the staunch Catholics of my father’s family.
Everything worked out in the end with both families accepting each other, but there were definitely some rough times. For me, it is just hard to grasp that over a hundred years later, people still thought that interracial relationships were still taboo.
And part of me believes that they still are a bit…my boyfriend is from
Thursday, September 4, 2008
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Hey, I'm Deanna.
I can't think of anything too thrilling right now, but two weeks ago I returned from a month long trip in Germany. I'm pretty sure I ate more pork and drank more beer in that month than I have in my entire life. I mean, sure, I knew that Germany was famous for its beer, but I had no idea that the monks in some villages made beer that was 17% alcohol (which sounds good, but tastes like liquid bread).
See you soon.
I can't think of anything too thrilling right now, but two weeks ago I returned from a month long trip in Germany. I'm pretty sure I ate more pork and drank more beer in that month than I have in my entire life. I mean, sure, I knew that Germany was famous for its beer, but I had no idea that the monks in some villages made beer that was 17% alcohol (which sounds good, but tastes like liquid bread).
See you soon.
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