“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!).
Saturday, October 25, 2008
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.
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