Wednesday, December 1, 2010


Magic Surrealism as a Magical Tool in Creative Writing

The idea of recreating the world where there is a juxtaposition of magic and reality, where one has the power to decide how the world runs and who gets to dwell in it, and the freedom to utilize modified empirical methods to redefine what is the norm in the world has been one of my major interests as a student writer. I am not referring to the Dadaist style known as surrealism, but a more complex yet fascinating narrative style that has been one of the characteristics of the twentieth-century Latin American literature: Magic Realism.
Magic Realism is considered as the most important trend in contemporary international fiction and proposes a new theory to re-define reality using mysticism, magic, and a great deal of imagination. While studying narration styles in creative writing classes, we learn that we must have a story, characters -one of them plays the role of the narrator, a plot, a turning point, and a meaningful theme that needs to come across the narration in a way that it engages the reader to believe what is being said in such story. Thus, the narration we are creating is linear and predictable: there is a start, a turning point, and an end that encloses the plot of the story.
What motivates us to write is an empiricism which we take as logical and normal for us. We want to express in writing that experience/knowledge seen through our own vision and understanding of logic, life, reality. In a writer, there is the need of canalizing and thus portraying everyday events which are familiar to him or her, and he or she takes them as true or real. Furthermore, these events are the history of the writer and become part of a mimetic narration. This type of narration is characteristic of realism. In realism, a writer utilizes history, Naturalism, cause-and-effect rationalization, and familiarization to imitate life (qtd. in Simpkins: 141)[1]. However, in realist narrative there is an expectation of a setting where the actions and events need to be “justified by the physical world or [the] normal acceptance” (qtd. in Simpkins: 142).[2]
Magic Realism deconstructs this narrative style by redefining reality adding a touch of magic and mysticism to the story. As a deconstructive movement, Magic Realism is a nihilistic view, a counter-argument that restores reality and contradicts the empirical truth. That is, it is a philosophical, pedagogical structure that turns political and historical views –characteristics of realism, into subjective and mythical. This movement was originated by the art historian, Franz Roh in Germany, and it was called Magischer Realismus. Roh was a post-expressionist who captured through visual arts the magic in each element of reality and turned the simple things of everyday life into more magical elements[3]. When his works were translated into Spanish and disseminated through the magazine “Revista de Occidente,” as Simpkins mentions in his article, his style was adopted by Jorge Luis Borges, an Argentinean writer, who later influenced Gabriel Garcia Marquez and other Latin American writers to use that style as a new way of telling stories[4]. Magic Realism then became the narrative style in the twentieth-century Latin American literature.
One of the reasons this movement has been well accepted and adopted in Latin American literature is because of the flexibility and freedom it gives the writers. Making reality subjective instead of objective or concrete allows the writer to deconstruct realism –including political and historical views with the psychological analysis –and supplement it with a (restored) reality that only the author visualizes and thus establishes in his or her narrative. This does not imply that Magic Realism creates imaginary worlds or distorts reality, however, as Luis Real asserts in the essay by Rodriguez Monegal (qtd. in Monegal: 649)[5]. And this is where many scholars confuse Magic Realism with surrealism creating a hesitation to accept this style as another post-modernist movement, as Jeanne Delbaere-Garant explains in her essay “Psychic Realism, Mythic Realism, Grotesque Realism: Variations of Magic Realism in Contemporary Literature in English.”
The freedom and flexibility that Magic Realism gives writers to expose in a legendary way the political and historical views have been a crucial factor in the in Latin American literature and its renaissance in the twentieth century. Octavio Paz, in his book The Labyrinth of Solitude, indicates that the long periods of dictatorship have led people –including writers and other artists, become more cautious about expressing points of view (21). Utilizing Magic Realism as a narrative style which deforms a reality that suppresses public opinion and freedom of expression is a way of criticizing and annihilating realism, which is seen as a negative movement in Latin America. Paz asserts that the conception of realism in Latin America equals pessimism caused by colonialism (23). Looking back at history, these countries were founded upon imposing monarchies and long dictatorships that have only left negativism in these countries.
As one of the major exponents of Magic Realism in Latin America, Gabriel Garcia Marquez redefines in One Hundred Years of Solitude a reality exposing historical and political events that happened during the post-independence movement through the early twentieth century where several revolutionary wars arose[6]. The narrative highlights the struggles and experiences of a traditional Colombian family that throughout several generations intends to define itself as committed, conventional, and devoted patriarchal family based on the traditions and creed of the Colombian society[7]. However, Garcia Marquez de-familiarizes the history and political events of the country making them seem more mythical and mystical. The fact that the founder of this family, Aureliano Buendia, dies at an early age, and his wife is the one that dictates the destiny of the family de-centers the conventionalism of a patriarchal family[8] in the Hispanic culture.
Garcia Marquez, in addition, utilizes magical supplements through the characters to illustrate the mysticism and redefinition of reality. For instance, Melquiades is a mystical gypsy that goes to Macondo, the town where the story develops, and sells random items such as magnets -which he makes people believe are magical and attract gold, that he brought from different parts of the world. He then decided to come back to the town and live with the Buendia family until his death. While he is waiting to die, he starts to predict the story of the Buendias by writing it in Sanskrit on scrolls. After several years and two generations, the scrolls began to reveal to Aureliano Babilonia, who becomes an eventual narrator in the story when he is able to decipher some of what Melquiades wrote in the scrolls. In fact, Melquiades appears to him several times giving him hints about the scrolls. Aurelanio Babilonia has reminiscence about Melquiades before he was born even though he never met him. Here, the author creates a special bounding between the two characters.
Aureliano Babilonia does not realize that he is predicting his own death and the birth of new generations who will eventually marry each other and commit incest. Aureliano Babilonia overwhelms himself with the translation of the scrolls and finds out he knows too much about this family and its future. At the end of the novel, he eventually dies hidden in the room where he found the scrolls after he finished translating the last scroll (471). Both Melquiades and Aureliano Babilionia play the role of narrators: one predicts the future of the story and the other interprets it. Both Melquiades and Aureliano Babilonia are mystical and legendary characters, and one precedes the other.
Garcia Marquez interchanges the narrator’s voice with these two characters that at the same time play different roles in the story. This multi-narrative is a feature of Magic Realism. As Simpkins defines it, it is
a magical layer, a supplemental strategy that may enhance, through its own theatricality, the force of an otherwise commonplace development, boosting its significative show in the process through a transcendent power (145).
In the novel, the magical layers are an enhancement of the story, retelling the story with different narrators (multi-narration) who are still part of the story but are able to transcend three-dimensionally and thus perceive several perspectives in the story. And all this is possible with the simple use of language and text.[9] Therefore, the writer can take advantage of this characteristic to enhance the story and boost the “significative show” as Simpkins points out.
Inspired by Garcia Marquez’s novel and after understanding what kind of style he employed in One Hundred Years of Solitude, I started to write a novel in Spanish about my grandmother’s life to somewhat honor and celebrate her life. The events in the story do not reflect or intend to illustrate my grandmother’s life. On the other hand, they are an interpretation of what she used to tell me about her life. Those stories she told me stuck in my head until I decided to retell her story making it magical and legendary which is mainly what Magic Realism offers as a tool in creative writing. The story is called, Doña Cruz se va en noviembre a la Isla de la Paz, and I have roughly translated as “Mrs. Cruz leaves in November to the Island of Peace” to utilize it as an example in this essay.
In this story, thus, I make use of legendary characters such as Don Pascual, an old and wise man who only goes to the town of Jerez every May during the town’s feast. He brings white carnations from the Island of Peace to offer them to Our Lady of Lourdes. Every time he goes to the town, he tells the story of how the image of the virgin was brought to the town and how King Alejandro, founder of Jerez, conquered the native Jeré and built the town. In addition, he foresees the future of Mrs. Cruz and gives her messages that she will only understand as time goes by and she matures. At the end of the story, Don Pascual recounts the destiny of each of the main characters, especially of Mrs. Cruz’s. This strategy reassures the reader the development of the main characters and Mrs. Cruz’s epiphany after she decides it is time to go to the Island of Peace[10].
Another strategy in Magic Realist narratives is to take real elements that are undermined and ignored in real life such as the magnets or carnations and make them magical. In One Hundred Years of Solitude, for example, Melquiades sells magnets to the people of Macondo and makes them believe they have the magical power to attract gold and serve as weapons used in the war[11]. In my story, the white carnations are believed to be sacred because they only bloom in the Island of Peace and are offered exclusively to Our Lady of Lourdes. These flowers never wither except when the touch dead bodies. The carnations in real life are very common and inexpensive flowers. In the story, I wanted to include those common flowers to make them magical by stating they only bloom in a particular place and never wither. So, with Magic Realism, the writer has that flexibility to use elements that are common and simple in real life and turn them into something mystical and even powerful. There is no creation of something never seen like in science ficition; it is simply making something already existing into magical and powerful.
Some may argue that making something simple and real into magically real is not impressive or fantastic enough to use it as a strategy in their narratives. Nonetheless, this type of supplementation in Magic Realism goes beyond the mere fact of re-making items and giving them special powers. This feature brings culture and faith combined to lead into something fantastic. In Latin American cultures, religion is a common ground and plays a crucial role in defining and directing culture and language. As a result, sublime elements are juxtaposed with earthly events. Miracles happen every day and are attributed to deities and saints. People commend themselves to the celestial court at the start of their working day and pray constantly for a raise or a new job. In the Magic Realist text, this cultural peculiarity is de-familiarized. In One Hundred Years of Solitude, one can see how Garcia Marquez de-centers faith. For example, Remedios the Beauty is a young virgin that never gets married. All the men interested in her die literally in strange accidents when they see her (257-59). Still young and virgin, Remedios ascends to heaven miraculously, and only Ursula, the oldest and almost blind character in the novel is the one that understands what is happening (269-72).
This particular event resembles the assumption of the Virgin Mary into heaven in body and soul after fulfilling her role of the mother of God. This establishes the closing of a cycle of life successfully as God intended it. Latin American Catholics see that as a privilege and gift from God that no one else on earth can attain. Remedios the Beauty, however, has been granted the honor of going to heaven, and no one in Macondo questions that; instead they take it as a miracle: “the majority believed in this miracle, and even candles were lit and novenas were prayed for a long time” (272).[12] However, some of the relatives did not want to accept the fact that she was taken miraculously to heaven. Fernanda, Remedios’ aunt, who had been very pious and devoted, was jealous of this miracle and prayed to God that he could return the white satin sheets that Remedios the Beauty took with her while ascending to heaven (272). Therefore, Garcia Marquez de-familiarizes faith in the Latin American culture: people accept what comes from God (thy kingdom come, thy will be done), and no one questions his will. However, there are some that do not concur with what God has done and demands another miracle from him.
In Mrs. Cruz Leaves in November to the Island of Peace, Mrs. Cruz, collects nine white carnations that Don Pascual gave to her father, Don Fidelito because she was born on the same day that the image of Our Lady of Lourdes was placed in its niche, and that was a privilege given by God to Mrs. Cruz. For her tenth birthday, Don Fidelito gives Cruz a tenth carnation. However, later that night, Don Fidelito dies. Cruz is crying in her room, and one of her tears drips down her face and touches the carnation turning it into an intense red. At the funeral, Cruz throws the red carnation to the coffin that is already being buried, and as the flower touches the casket, it vanishes releasing its scent into the air (chapter 1). In this passage, the intention is to deconstruct the meaning of the flowers. In some parts of Mexico, white carnations are used in funerals because their brightness represents pureness; their strong scent serves as a guide for the soul to follow the pathway to heaven. In addition, the blooming of the flowers signifies the rebirth of the soul into an everlasting life. With the change of color from white to red and the vanishing of the flower when it touches the coffin, I intend to de-familiarize what is attributed to this flower.
The de-familiarization and re-creation of real events turned into magical, sublime and legendary in Magic Realist narration go beyond incredulity and make the reader believe that those events may actually happen in real life. For instance, towards the end of One Hundred Years of Solitude, two of the Buendias marry each other and have a child that was born with a pigtail. The people in the town believed that was a punishment from God because incest is considered a sin (465). This was taken as some sort of myth and superstition by many people who read the novel. My grandmother, for example, used to tell my cousin and me that we could not marry each other because our children would have pigtails. I never found out whether my grandmother was just lying or actually believed in that. But that myth was originated from the story of the two Buendias who married each other and had a child with a pigtail. Once again, the re-making of real-life events and the de-centering of faith in the Latin American culture in Magic Realist narratives redraws the boundaries between the fantastic and the real.
In Mrs. Cruz Leaves in November to the Island of Peace, Manuel, Mrs. Cruz’s best friend from childhood gives her in her fifteenth birthday a pair of pearl earrings which he made by using the stems of little Beatrice[13] flowers:
Manuel took two stems which were slender and flexible but very strong and difficult to break. He carefully picked up a pearl and drilled it with one of the stems. It was like a needle penetrating through the fabric while sewing. Similarly, Manuel drilled the other pearl and thus made the earrings for Cruz which he placed back in the white shell. However, Manuel would keep this as his secret because he thought nobody would believe him. After all, how could a stem of a Beatricita, as thin as a needle, drill a pearl? However, it did, and the proof was that Cruz was wearing two earrings supported by these stems (chapter 2)[14].
In this passage, one may notice how the narrator explains very simply how Manuel drilled the pearls which by fact are very hard to drill especially without the right tools. In the real life, it is impossible to drill a pearl with a thin stem of a made-up flower. Nonetheless, in the Magic Realist narrative, the writer can make that happen with the use of language. That is, as simple as drilling a pearl with a stem, one can make earrings; that sentence just explained something unthinkable and unbelievable in real life. There are no further explanations about the making of the pearl earrings, and the narrator even assures that the fact the Cruz was wearing the earrings was a proof that Manuel was able to drill the pearls with the stems. This attribute in the magical narrative gives the writer an immense world of possibilities that he or she can use to expose his/her perception of reality and making it subject to the imagination.
With Magic Realism as a tool in creative writing, one can let the imagination go further than what is already established as an empirical truth re-defining reality the way one perceives it. Magic Realist narrative does not create imaginary worlds in parallel dimensions; instead, it permits the creative writer play with reality and make it fantastic and mythical with the simple use of language and multi-narration to retell the story from a different perspective within the same story. And beyond that, Magic Realism as a tool redraws the boundaries of telling stories. The traditional form of starting from the beginning and finishing at the end with a turning point in the middle is challenged by the ambiguity and flexibility of starting from the end of the story and going backwards. In Magic Realist narrative there is no physical end of the story; the story does not have to end at the end of the last page, but it could imply a cyclical ending; something like “a dog chasing its tail,” as Simpkins explains (152).
After all, “Reality is too subtle for realism to catch it,” as Robert Scholes asserts (qtd. in Simpkins: 149). However, Magic Realism as a tool in creative writing is able to catch reality and subjects it in order to capture and redefine it based on our personal perception of reality: it is ours to make us of, and there are ceaseless ways of redefining reality giving it a magical power.

Notes

[1]Scotts Simpkins takes these characteristics from Franz Roh’s, German Art in the 20th Century (Greenwich, Conn.: New York Graphic Society, 1968), p.70
[2] Cited in Scott Simpkins’s “Magical Strategies: The Supplement of Realism. The original text comes from Angel Flores’s “Magical Realism in Spanish American Fiction,” Hispania, 38 (1955), 109.
[3] Franz Roh’s, German Art in the 20th Century (Greenwich, Conn.: New York Graphic Society, 1968), p.70
[4] Rodriguez Monegal, “Realismo Magico Versus Literatura Fantastica,” Revista Iberoamericana, 26 (1971).
[5] This paraphrase was taken from the original quote in Spanish in the essay, “Realismo Magico Versus Literatura Fantastica:” “desfigura la realidad o crea mundos imaginados.”
[6] For more historical context, see Marco Palacios’s. “Between Legitimacy and Violence a History of Colombia, 1875-2002.” Duke University Press: 2006v
[7] This summary is my interpretation and intake after reading the novel in Spanish.
[8] See note 7
[9] The use of the scrolls written in Sanskrit and the different voices telling the story
[10] This is basically the physical end of the story.
[11] See One Hundred Years of Solitude, chapter 3-7.
[12] I translated this passage from the original text in Spanish which reads “La mayoría creyó en el milagro, y hasta se encendieron velas y se rezaron novenarios” (272).
[13]In the story, the Beatrice flowers are in actually chamomile flowers. Beatrice is one of my aunts, and she’s turned into a chamomile flower. In magic realist narratives, one can use people and turn them into objects such as flowers or mountains, for example.
[14] I roughly translated this passage from the original text to use it as an example of how Magic Realism can turn something real and simple into magical and almost incredible.
Annotated Bibliography
Borges, Jorge Luis. Labyrinths: Selected Stories and Other Writings, ed. Donald Yates and James E. Irby. New York: New Directions, 1964. Print
Overall, the book conveys the structure and stance of Borges’s writing style. The elusive and allusive tones that Borges has conveyed in his style are imprinted in this book. Borges utilizes supplemental strategies which attempt to increase and maintain the text in a surrealist mode. The Garden of Forking Paths is a story that involves characters in different roles; this is called a magical supplementation that characterizes Borges and Garcia Marquez’s narrative style. This strategy bypasses the commonplace unity that is found in most realistic texts. To develop this into the essay has required me to go further into reading more about the story that is included in this book. Although there are many strategies reflected in more stories, this strategy seems to connect more to one of the points I want to elaborate in the essay; the de-centering of conventional roles in characters. The narrator is also an English professor, a prisoner, a friend that constructs a multi-perspective and thus portrays all fictional possibilities used in a realist novel. The use of text and language in this narrative is what some theorists called an intentional semiotic dysfunction that conveys the contemporary concern with language in the modernism. Although this point needs more elaboration, I am not sure if I could elaborate more on this point when talking about Borges’s narrative style.
Borges, Jorge Luis. Ficciones. Ed. Anthony Kerrigan. New York: Grove Press. 1962. Print
This book is absolutely magical and conveys the narrative strategy seen is magic realist novels. Some of the stories are very intense in the sense that they create discomfort in the readers. Curiosity and tension are some of the feelings that this collection of short stories. The very title, Fictions, is simple and yet conveys the main theory of magic realism. That is a point to illustrate in the essay that adds to the characteristics of magic realism. This book also conveys the semiotic dysfunction as a narrative strategy in which characters purposefully construct layers of perspectives that portray realism in a magical world. The story I focused on to integrate the analysis in the essay was The Thousand and One Nights, in which the main character utilizes magical text to convey his reality fictionally. This is a statement that will add more to my main argument.
Faris, Wendy B. Ordinary Enchantments: Magical Realism and the Remystification of Narrative. Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 2004. Print
This book investigates magical realism as the most important trend in contemporary international fiction, defines its characteristics and narrative techniques, and proposes a new theory to explain its significance. In the most comprehensive critical treatment of this literary mode to date, the author discusses a rich array of examples from magical realist novels around the world, including the work not only of Latin American writers like Gabriel Garcia Marquez, who is one of the major exponents of magic realism but works that come from earlier writers in Spain such as Cervantes. I like this book because it explains how realism surged as a narrative form. Since I am not too familiarized with the history and background of magic realism, I was very excited to have found that Faris has come up with a very thoroughly developed argument about magic realism and how it has been developed. Some of the paragraphs are overwhelming with the definitions and background of magic realism. I have to stay focused on how the information from this book will contribute to my main focus. Just keep in mind to stay in what I want to say; avoid vagueness.
Flores, Angel. “Magical Realism in Spanish American Fiction,” Hispania, 38. 1955: 109. Print.
Another article that Simpkins includes in his essay. Helpful and definitely indispensible to use for future reference in later essays and works. It talks about the major differences between magic realism and realism. The characteristics of realism include an empirical truth, a rationalization where cause and effect play the major role of directing the story and the plot. This will help differentiate and explain realism versus magic realism.
Garcia Marquez, Gabriel. Cien Años de Soledad. First Edition. Barcelona: Vintage Español, 2003. Print
This novel is one of the literary pieces that expose magic realist fiction. This narrative highlights the struggles and experiences of a typical Colombian family that through generations intends to define itself as a committed and devoted one based on the traditions and creed of the Colombian society. The novel brings up historical and political issues that happened during the independence movement, and somehow are still relevant in the present Colombia. The narrative of Garcia Marquez conveys the magic realism style: mystic, magical, and yet very close to reality. The original piece is in Spanish because I want to capture the essence of the narration in the way the author says it with the authentic Colombian accent. This is one of the reasons I am interested in the narrative style of Garcia Marquez: as I read the piece, I can actually feel as though a Colombian would actually be telling the story and not me reading it. I may include some of the narration/dialogue in the story and use it as an example to connect it with the introduction and definition in the essay.
Hegerfeldt, Anne C. Lies that Tell the Truth: Magic Realism Seen through Contemporary Fiction from Britain. New York: Editions Bodopit B.V., 2005. Print
This book intends to explain how magic realism originated and how it has been adapted in the postmodern British literature. This is similar to what I found in Faris’s book, but it seems to be more extended. I was intrigued to see that the book tends to focus contemporary fiction in the UK. In the first chapter, the author defines what magic realism is, which it seems to me that not many writers and critics have actually seen it as another way to tell fiction. Based on what I have read so far from this book, magic realists tend to expose issues and situations that society is going through in a way that it seems very magical and mystical. The title of this book caught my attention because it somewhat defines what magic realism is: lies that tell the truth. I like this statement to be part of my topic sentence and main idea. I want to define magic realism as a narrative that could tell say lies that convey the truth. Do I want to stick with this idea or should I go beyond this concept that Hegefeltd exposes? Keeping in mind that magic realism hasn’t been wholly accepted as a narrative style, I have to convey the concept of redrawing boundaries.
Jameson, Fredric. “Magical Narratives: Romance as Genre.” New Literary History, Vol. 7, No. 1. 1975: 135-163. JSTOR. Web 5 October 2010.
This is glance at some of the classic theorists, the semantic and the structural or syntactic approaches. It describes the world of worlds concept that bring realism and its narrative to a more fictional and magical text composed with the elements that magic surrealism contains. Alteration of the stylistic theory in linguistics makes this element of narrative strategies a more interesting concept that used in many fictions of Borges’s and Garcia Marquez’s. This long essay contains too much information and description of modernist rhetorical strategies used in surrealism. There are so many references that are definitely useful to collaborate with my essay, but some of them make me go off the topic into more broad definitions of magic surrealism. The title is catchy; something to think about for my final draft title. The start of this essay helps me with my introduction and abstract. This goes from general to specific, but I am not sure if that is something I want to resemble in my essay. Definitely this is an ideal starting point.
Palacios, Marco. Between Legitimacy and Violence a History of Colombia, 1875-2002. Durham: Duke University Press: 2006. Print.
This helps with the interpretation and explanations of the historical context of Colombian during the time the novel develops. Use it as a reference that will allow to explain in what Garcia Marquez takes and redefines the history of Colombian and how he presents it in the novel.
Parkinson Zamora, Lois. Magic Realism: Theory, History, Community. Durham: Durke University Press, 1995. Print
A collection of essays that describes a mode of writing that is catalyst and growing constantly especially with the postmodernist movement. Jeanne Delbaere-Garant (249-263) mentions how magic realism has been misinterpreted and seen as a grotesque way to tell fiction. This essay is important to analyze even further so that it is understood that magic realism is similar to postmodernism was to modernists: an epiphanic movement, just as Delbaere-Garant points out. I found this essay to be particularly specific and more explanatory than the other two I read from the book, and it fits very smoothly to the main focus in my essay. I want to stick with the idea of the misinterpretation of magi surrealism. I wish there would be more examples of how magic surrealism is more interesting and fun in a narrative than just a ‘conventional’ way of telling a story. Maybe, this should be one of the opening sentences/persuasive points to cover in the essay. I like how Delbaere-Garant uses epiphanic movement. I need to elaborate more on that epiphany in the narrative styles.
Paz, Octavio. The Labyrinth of Solitude. Trans. Lysander Kemp, Yara Milos, and Rachel Phillips Belash. New York: Grove Weidenfeld, 1985. Print.
Paz exposes the difference in concepts about Realism in Mexico and in the United States: A realist in Mexico is considered a pessimist because he/she only sees the “bad reality.” Another difference in concepts is the perception of death. Meanwhile, in the US, death is seen as the end of life that people try to avoid, in the Mexican culture, death is seen as a way of going to a “better life.” Will use this as point to illustrate why Magic Realism has been well adopted in the literature of Latin America and how that helps writers to boom and start the so-called twentieth-century renaissance in LA literature. Pages 21-27 will serve as starting argument on the essay.
Rodriguez Monegal, Emir. “Realismo Magico Versus Literatura Fantastica,” Revista Iberoamericana. 1971: 26. Print.
Simpkins quotes Monegal’s article to illustrate how Magic Realism became part of the traits of narration in Latin American literature. The article gives me the starting point to illustrate that Borges originated this movement and influenced other Latin American authors including Garcia Marquez and their narrative style. This magazine is definitely a rich source of information to determine how Magic Realism influences in the renaissance of the Latin American literature in the twentieth century. I looked for the original quotes in the article and will paraphrase it in English on the essay.
Simpkins, Scott. “Magical Strategies: The Supplement of Realism.” Twentieth Century Literature, Vol. 34, No. 2 (1998): 140-154. JSTOR. Web. 5 October 2010.
Very simple and entertaining article that I enjoyed reading. It gets me back on track because of the style and the simple definition about magic realism. In page 140 it is mentioned about fantasy which is a reflection on the characters in a narration. The article in general includes criticism about Jorge Luis Borges and Gabriel Garcia Marquez. That helps me stay on track about getting quotes from One Hundred Years of Solitude: characters define are used to describe a fantasy that somehow portrays reality disguised as fiction. That idea ties in with Hegerfeldt’s argument about lies telling the truth. Page 141 talks about the comparison between realism and magic realism which is a list of differences between the two styles. The author indicates that this main difference is called “marvelous realism”. This comparison should help the essay lean towards an argumentation about why magic realism should not be confused with magic realism. Rhetorical strategies are mentioned in this article. The concept of a purifying concern of textual generation: an absolute signified and an absolute meaning –that comes towards the end of the article. By the way, this article has given me reference to other articles and books that the author used which definitely add up to my elaboration of the essay.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Presentation on Octavio Paz


BIOGRAPHY


Octavio Paz was born in Mexico City in 1914, during the Mexican Revolution. His paternal grandfather Ireneo Paz, was a liberal intellectual, novelist, and publisher. Octavio Paz lived with him for few years because his father went to fight in the revolution. While he was living with his grandfather in a small village named Mixcoac, which was in the outskirts of Mexico City, he was able to perceive how a Mexican family functions: traditions, beliefs, respect for the elders, folklore, etc. In fact, in his book, Itinerario, which he wrote in 1993, he mentions in the introduction, how he was inspired to write The Labyrinth of Solitude, in which he describes/defines very vividly and in detail the Mexican identity.

Because of his family's public support of Emiliano Zapata, one of the leaders of the Revolution, his family was forced into exile after Zapata's assassination. They served their exile in the United States. He lived in Los Angeles for few years and even went to kindergarten where he learned English. Paz started writing in 1931, at the age of 17, and founded several magazines such as "Barandal" and "Taller." In 1937, Paz participated in the 2nd International Congress of Antifascists Writers in Valencia, Spain. He became part of Mexico's diplomatic group in 1945 and was sent to Paris, where he collaborated actively with the surrealist movement. In 1947, he moved back to the United States where he immersed in the Anglo-American modernist poetry.
During the time he lived in this country, he was able to compare the American with the Mexican culture. In his book, The Labyrinth of Solitude, he mentions, “[T]he United States is a society that wants to realize its ideals” (22). He served as a diplomat in India in 1962 but renounced to his position in protest against the Mexican government because of the massacre of students and in Tlaltelolco in 1968. In 1990, Paz received the Nobel Prize for Literature "for impassioned writing with wide horizons, characterized by sensuous intelligence and humanistic integrity" (The Nobel Prize in Literature 1990" http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/1990/ )


VIEWS

Paz is considered one of the most prolific poets in the Spanish language and in Latin-American literature. He is one of the leaders of the Latin-American renaissance, which covers from the modernist era to the surrealism of the late XX century. He asserts that languages are realities more vast than the political and historical entities called nations (from "Repertorio de Ensayistas y Filosofos" by Patricio Eufraccio Solano, UNAM, March 2000).
While living in India, he had the opportunity to learn about different kind of surrealism, or as he called it, a spiritual orthodox movement in which there is a connection and balance between body and mind, between consciousness and unconsciousness. He asserts that the modern poet in the western literature has no connection between his body and his mind; there is a gap between the two, a disassociation called modernism. In modern poetry, the poet writes about the city, the life in the city and how the city is around him or her: political and historical views. The Indian literature, on the other hand, criticizes/analyzes time as a historical illusion; not as a term of the past, but as something that remains near the poet to look at it and be inspired by.


THE ESSAY

In his essay, “Translation: Literature and Letters,” Paz points out that languages are not universal but form part of a universal society (152). Men have found a way to communicate with one another through translation. The universality of the spirit is the way men have been able to communicate with one another. Even though each society is a world with its language, tradition, and history, all of them have an affinity in signification of a specific idea, concept, phrase, idiom and word. And translation is the way by which societies learn about each other: we learn about the way we think and express ideas.
For example, in The Labyrinth of Solitude, Paz exposes the difference in concepts about Realism in Mexico and in the United States: A realist in Mexico is considered a pessimist because “of his willingness to contemplate horror […] The bloody Christs in our village churches […] the custom of eating skull-shaped cakes and candies on the Day of the Day” (The Labyrinth of Solitude, 23). In the US culture, a realist is an optimist that “delights in fantasy” and “wants to understand” everything[…] “he is an activist” (24). Another difference in concepts is the perception of death. Paz asserts that in the Mexican culture, the “cult of death is also a cult of life, in the same way that love is a hunger for life and a longing for death” (23). Meanwhile, in the US, the American “not only has no desire to understand it, he obviously avoids the very idea” (22).
In the way of analyzing literature, there are of course differences between the North American and the Mexican ways. The North American has “self-assurance and confidence” when giving an opinion, where as in Mexico or other countries to the south, the “long periods of dictatorship have made us more cautious about expressing our points of view” (21). These facts help understand how these two nations think and define life through languages and cultures to make the translation process a little easier.


Literal Translation

He mentions about the word-for-word translation (servile), which he says it is not a translation but a mechanism that serves the translator to see how the original language works (154). Of course, there are few instances where this mechanism works well, and most of the time this is found in translation of prose:

The cat chases the mouse.
Il gatto insigue il topo.
Le chat court après le souris.
El gato persigue al ratón.

In the case of the example above, the translation into Spanish requires to add the preposition “a” (to) because the verb “persigue” (chases) needs such preposition. In the French translation, the verb chase would be translated as court après, which literally means to run after. Therefore, in order to convey the meaning of the original sentence, it was necessary to transform the original text. As a result, translation implies a “transformation of the original” (154). And the translator must keep the meaning of the original despite the changes or mutation of the original text (metonym and metaphor).

Poetry and Translation

Paz is a visionary that believes that poetry is universal and thus translatable. This is a concept that many poets believe to be almost impossible. Nonetheless, Paz asserts that (and this is going back to the idea of universality of the spirit) poetry comes from within our souls, and a poet can perceive that regardless of the language in which the poem is written. A poet is able to perceive the essence of poetry and the meaning behind it. However, as Paz points out, a poet is not a good translator because “poetic translation […] is a procedure analogous to poetic creation, but it unfolds in the opposite direction” (158). A good translator must embrace poetry and re-create the poem making such poem a unique and original piece. In other words, the translated poem becomes an original piece but with the same meaning and the same essence: “the meanings of a poem are multiple and changeable; the words of that poem are unique and irreplaceable” (159).

YOUR COMMENTS
"Paz is just playing with language here, as opposed to actually saying that literal translation is not translation."
-Justin Conn

“Therefore, translation is simply allowing for men to understand the same principles and ideas that they express through poetry - creating a universal poetic voice of man.”
-Carrie Morrow


“By using different words in a different language to illicit the same meaning would constitutes translation.”
-Tyler Bellis


“He [Paz] sees poetry as transforming language, through the interchangeability of words; translation is doing the same things.”
-Joel Muzzey


“When I imagine the great variety of landscapes of our planet, I can see how this illustration effectively communicates the diversity of techniques and final products that can emerge from the act of translation.”
-Grace Chen


“We are striving towards this ideal goal of literal translation that preserves the poetics of the text without appropriating or inserting our own voice.”
-Matthew Wehren


“[I]n translation, the languages overlap to supplement each other: the elusive but supreme INTENTION.”
-Jeffrey Schoneman


“[T]he translator has the opportunity to use all of his/her knowledge in translating a poem.”
-John Berryman


“[A] translator of poetry should be a poet. But she should be a translator too.”
-Syndee Wood


“[T]ranslations and the act of translating at varying levels would not exist and we would simply live in a “babbling” world of chaos.”
-Nelly Toner


“It [the text] is unoriginal in the sense that the conversion from nonverbal to language is already translation.”
-Janette Larson


“Emphasizing that language itself is, above all, translation - from non-verbal to verbal, and from one sign or phrase to another, Paz describes a universality in context and process.”
-Colleen Stricker


“Are poets just a part of the symphony of musicians that play the same music even if they get a solo at times? If this were so, wouldn't translation be much easier because we could just look at the earlier symphonies for meaning in the later symphonies?”
-Shannon Wales

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

C’est La Vie et C’est Jolie (Part IV)


I kept staring at the page without actually reading the words. I finally realized I had been doing that for quite some time and thought it would be a good idea to flip to another page so that my prince didn’t think I was a slow reader. As I turned to the next page and tried to keep pretending to read, I got a little frustrated and abruptly closed the book. My prince turned to me and said, “¿La música te disturba?” He asked me if the music was disturbing me.
I replied quickly that it didn’t at all. How could anything coming from him disturb me? How in the world would I be disturbed by his presence? He then said he could lower the volume if it was too loud and annoying. I said he didn’t have to do that at all; that I was tired of reading and eager to finally arrive in Madrid.
“Is it your first time in Madrid?” He asked.
“Yes, I am very excited to visit Spain for the first time.”
“Nice! You are going to love it. Madrid is a very dynamic and fun city.”
“Are you from Madrid?”
“No, I am from Valladolid, but I live in Madrid because I go to college there.”
“Oh OK. What is your major?”
“I’m studying Economy, but I actually like to paint… I do that sometimes when I have time. I also like to read poetry.”
Could he be dreamier than anything in this world?
“Really? What is your favorite poem or poems?” I asked very intrigued yet thrilled.
“Well, I don’t have a favorite poem per se, but I like ‘El seminarista de los ojos negros’ by Miguel Ramos Carrion.”
This is an amazing poem that I learnt in middle school and talks about this girl who is in love with a seminarist with black eyes and slender, tall figure covered by his black gown. It’s such a romantic yet sad story because the seminarist dies mysteriously and the girl ends up being old and alone because she never got to be with the love of her life.
My prince then said that he had learnt it by heart because he just loved it. I asked him immediately to recite it for me. As he was reciting it with his Spanish accent, I thought that was a very delightful moment that I would never forget in my life. Suddenly I thought I was probably asking too many questions and stopped talking. My heart that had been beating normally during the conversation with my prince started to beat faster again. I thought I had to do something to keep our chatting going.
“What were you doing in Rome?” I asked at the same time I was thinking the question could have been too abrupt and inappropriate.
“I just was there visiting for the first time, and you?”
“Same.”
Great answer! That’s going to keep the conversation going. I had to come up with another question:
“What did you like about Rome?” I asked thinking I would probably have looked obvious that I still wanted to talk to him.
“Everything! Rome is… Rome!” He smiled. “What about you?”
“Well, everything too. But Villa Borghese was the best of all. It is amazing how in the middle of this immense and busy city you can find such a peaceful and inspiring place. I wish I could live there and have the whole time in the world to read and write unaware about the world and its issues… the people and their problems. I would probably forget that I had to come back to work and wake up every day to face my problems and the try to solve the problems of others. I could forget that times goes by so quickly that as a fast as a blink, a whole life could be taken away…”
As I was talking, he was nodding as though he could identify with what I was saying. His eyes brightened even more and his smile could not have been more enchanting. I stopped and smiled at him and told him that I was a cheesy dreamer and builder of fictional, surreal images of the world in my head. He told me that he too liked doing that randomly pretending the world was his to play with. Suddenly, the sign to fasten our seat belts came on and the pilot was announcing we were close to landing on the Barajas Airport. My prince told me he didn’t feel the two-hour flight thanks to our conversation. I smiled shyly and nodded stupidly. Finally, as we had landed perfectly and were waiting for the flight attendants to open the doors, he said that if I wanted to, we could meet at a bar before I left Madrid. I just said, “Yeah, it’d be nice!” and smiled. But in my head I was jumping and crying out of excitement as though I had won the lottery. He took out a pen that read “Viva Italia” in red letters and asked me for a piece of paper so that he could write down his name and phone number. I quickly grabbed my book and handed it to him.
He smiled at me and shook my hand, “It has been nice talking to you. Give me a call.” He winked at me and stood up to get his little handbag that had put in the overhead compartment. I held my book closed to my chest as though the very Garcia Marquez has autographed it. I didn’t want to look at his handwriting too soon because I didn’t want him to think I was so desperate. After all, I was acting cool!

Monday, October 11, 2010

C’est La Vie et C’est Jolie (Part III)

Picture taken by Monica Colon


Oh his smile! I wished I could have frozen the time to admire him forever. My hands were sweaty and my feet cold. I wanted to talk to him, but my lips could not stop smiling. The moment was awkward, and he continued walking toward the main door of the basilica. I saw him walk away from me. At that moment I knew the chances to finally meet and talk with my prince were almost impossible to happen. I was very disappointed and frustrated. I hated myself for being so shy. Suddenly, I had this impulsive feeling to run after him and tell him something… My friends found me. They were upset because I took my own route and left them behind. I apologized to them; nonetheless, I still wanted to leave them behind and run after my prince. After taking some pictures and walking around the basilica, we decided we were hungry. So, we left the church and walked away from the Vatican.
We ended up at Piazza del Poppolo and ate in “Babette Caffé & Ristorante,” an expensive restaurant but with excellent Italian food and wine. At that point, I did not care about my posture and eating manners. It was pointless pretending to be somewhat prince-like when my prince was not there. My friends noted my taciturn attitude and asked me what was wrong. I just smiled and said I was still amazed by the beauty of the Vatican and could not believe I was there. Nonetheless, my fake smile and deep sigh told the truth. My friends didn’t ask. They didn’t want my wandering and sadness to ruin their fun in Rome. I tried to keep up with their conversation about the romantic Rome during Christmas time. Suddenly, one of my friends asked me if I was homesick and missed my family. I nodded. That was a good excuse. I pretended to be sad by the fact it was Christmas, and my family was on the other side of the world.
I realized then how sad it was to actually spend my time and energy thinking about someone and be so obsessed about him to the point I forgot about my family; the people who always have been and will be there for me when I need them. In my head, I had created a fictitious person whom I thought was interested in me when in the real world, he probably had not even noticed me at all. How sad it was that moment of realization about my lack and need of love for someone that only existed in my head. It was sadder to realize that I had spent almost a whole paycheck on this trip and flown for about ten hours to understand I needed love. I had to stop thinking about that; otherwise, my whole trip would have been ruined by my pathetic thoughts. Therefore, I decided to keep having fun and visit the rest of la romantica Roma with my friends.
On our last two days in Rome, we visited Il Pantheon, Il Museo Vaticano, Piazza di fiori, where we ate a wonderfully and gloriously delicious gelato, and finally, Piazza di Spagna, Trastevere, and Villa Borghese Park, which was the last place we visited before we left Rome. We walked for hours admiring the tranquility and freshness of the park inside a very busy city. We felt as though Rome was giving us a break from the other tourists and the amazing buildings that have been touched by so many people during so many centuries. This park was the good-bys and the come-back-soon from this dreamy city. At that point, I was resigned to keep on my journey to Spain. I had to leave my prince behind with Rome and just keep this amazing adventure in my journal as a simple nice Europe-trip story.
At the Fiumicino Airport, my friends and I were waiting to depart to Madrid. We were going to spend New Year’s Eve there. We could not be more excited about that. After two hours waiting, we finally boarded the plane and found our seats, one in each row. I wished my friends to have a nice trip and sat down on the seat next to the window. I pulled out my book, “Love in Times of Cholera” by Garcia Marquez- one of my favorite authors, and started to read where I had left off: “To him she seemed so beautiful, so seductive, so different from ordinary people, that he could not understand why no one was as disturbed as he…” I was interrupted by this person who was putting his luggage in the overhead compartment. I could not see his face till he sat down. I closed the book, sat up straight, and fixed my glasses. It was my prince! It was him sitting next to me. Good heavens! My heart started beating like crazy and my blood stopped flowing to my legs as they froze. NO! This time I was not going to act like an idiot! Destiny, or rather, sublime Destiny had brought my prince back to me to give me a last chance to hide my shyness and act… “cool.” Dear Lord! What is cool anyway? Would that help catch his attention? “Sagrado Corazón, ¿que hago?” I thought. I sighed heavily and reopened my book to pretend to be reading again: “but he did not dare approach her for fear of destroying the spell.”

“¿Pero lees García Marquez?” My prince asked with his tender, Spaniard, and masculine voice.

Santo Dios del Cielo, he is asking me something. I need to respond now! Say something for crying out loud! Be cool though! Cool? Gosh! Stop talking to yourself and answer him the damned question!”
Si, García Marquez es mi escritor favorito.” I told him as serene as I could ever have possibly been considering that he was so close to me.

“¡Vaya, que bien!” He replied as he took out his earphones to listen to his music.

I thought, “Great! This is just perfect! He’s going to listen to his music, and this is the end of the conversation.” Somehow, I felt relieved that he was not going to continue asking me questions, but at the same time, I really wanted him to keep talking to me so that I could continue admiring his prince-like face and voice with a seductive Spanish accent. I kept reading without actually paying attention to the story. My eyes were just staring at the page while my mind was set up on wanting him to keep asking me questions. The plane took off.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

C’est La Vie et C’est Jolie (Part II)




I was walking down the street admiring the Palacio de Comunicaciones and passing by the Banco Real de España. My thoughts were all over the place: What could have possibly prevented him from seeing me? What went wrong? Was it my fault? It probably was. Failure was all over me. And the worst feeling I had was knowing that I could not do anyting to make me feel better. I kept walking as I remembered how I met him.
We met in Rome walking around the ruins of Il Foro Romano. We bumped into each other “accidentally” – I don’t believe in accidents: everything happens at its time and at the right place. He apologized in English, and I replied with “It’s OK. Don’t worry.” He seemed surprised. His eyes widened as he stared at me for some time trying to figure out where I was from. Then he smiled. Gosh, how the boy smiled! He had this prince-like posture: tender and square face, with some stubble framing his masculine expression, round and sharp brown eyes, perfectly shaped nose, tall and slender body, brown hair, light flawless skin, thin and light pinked lips, and a smile that above all his features conquered my eyes. He was wearing a blue scarf wrapped around his neck, an unzipped woolen jacket with gray zigzagged-lines as a pattern, a white sweater with thin gray and black lines across, square sunglasses on his head that had the “AX” logo on the temples, and black jeans. To me, it was a perfect outfit to be walking around Rome in winter. My friends were next to me, and we were talking in Spanish joking around and guessing how the Romans during their greatest times used to live and enjoy of all the delights of their empire. We were having fun pretending we knew world history. I didn’t tell them anything about him. I wanted to keep him for me. This was going to be my adventure in Rome. As we kept walking around the ruins, I noticed he was following us- or so I thought. The idea of him walking behind us was intriguing but fun. Suddenly, he disappeared. I was disappointed. Where did he go? Was I going to see him again? What was his name? Where was he from? I wondered while my friends and I were walking towards the Coliseum. We were hungry and needed to find a restaurant soon. We had been walking all day. We had only had coffee and toasted bread with butter and strawberry jam for breakfast at the hotel.
We finally ran into Trattoria Luzzi, such a wonderful and authentic Italian restaurant. There were tables outside the street with the red and white checkered tablecloths and lit candles. The waiter welcomed us, “Quante persone?” I said three people. He led us into the inside of the restaurant and offered us some water. The inside of the restaurant was small but cozy; the walls were bricked with a reddish tone that made the place look older, and there were old pictures of the different places in Rome hung on the walls around the room. To my left hand side there were a chimney and some logs being burned. Right next to the chimney, there was a wooden door with a sign reading “La Cucina.” The environment was warm that we felt welcome in such a lovely place. My two friends were talking about how amazing the city was: narrow streets and old buildings, a trattoria located on every corner of every street, cold yet bearable weather, motorcycles parked on the sidewalks, old men walking down the streets speaking such a loud and fast Italian and moving their hands as they spoke trying to convince each other their argument was the right one. As my friends were pointing out the highlights of such a fascinating Rome, I looked around and saw him seated at the table near the window that framed the old peach-colored building across the street. Another waiter was with him, and he was ordering in Spanish with a Spaniard accent. I stared at him admiring his Spanish, his posture, his face, his voice… him. He sensed my staring and looked directly at me and smiled. I quickly looked down at the menu. I was shaking. He caught me staring at him! I couldn’t look back.
I ordered pasta and ate it uncomfortably because I knew he was right there perhaps looking at me and thinking about me who knows what. It might have been my imagination and my desire of him staring at me,and I wanted to impress him. I placed my napkin on my lap, kept my elbows off the table and my back flat and straight, ate slowly and quietly, used delicately the utensils, didn’t sip the red wine I ordered until I was finished with my dish, and nabbed my mouth when I finished eating. How I thanked my grandma for teaching me all these manners when I was a kid! After eating and paying the check, my friends and I took off. He was still there. I walked out of the restaurant wanting to look at him, but I couldn’t. The whole time we were walking towards our hotel, I was thinking about him.
The next day was Christmas Eve, and the whole city was quiet. Restaurants, stores, and museums were closed. Churches were the only ones open. So, we decided to go to Piazza Navona, which was about two hours walking from the hotel. We spend most of the day at that place. There were different tents around the plaza selling figurines for nativity sets, handmade wooden toys, and Christmas ornaments. As we walked around taking pictures and admiring everything we saw, we heard some Andean music and noticed there were people in a circle watching a band of musicians playing such music. We joined the group, and I looked around to see how Italians and tourists were admiring the musicians and what they were playing. Then, there he was again! His prince-like figure dressed so neat and so European. We looked at each other. He smiled again; I froze. How stupid I was! How could I freeze? The obvious thing was to smile back at him, but no! I had to freeze and stare at him like an idiot. One of my friends was asking me something, but I could not understand because I was paralyzed. She poked me and asked me loudly, “Do you want to go back to the hotel?” I looked at her but didn’t reply. I was still astounded by his smile, his eyes, his look, his prince-like figure. We went back to the hotel, and I was quiet again thinking of him.
On Christmas day we went to the Vatican, a two-hour-and-a-half walk from the hotel. It was a sunny yet fresh day. I felt the morning breeze and took a deep breath. I felt a rejuvenating and empowering mood: I was in Rome, and I was going to have a great day! As we approached our destination, I was amazed: the Vatican took my breath away. It was so beautiful and imposing, so grand and marvelous, so holy, and so superb. I couldn’t believe I was there! People were gathered around the piazza San Pietro: flags from different countries being waved and people from different races but only one faith. A mass was ending, and the Pope blessed us all in several languages from the balcony in the center of the basilica. Everyone screamed joyfully when the Pope was blessing them in their respective languages. The bells began to toll triumphantly as the Swiss guards began to march away the basilica. It was fascinating. We were able to go inside the church after the mass had ended and after having waited in line for about forty minutes. The beauty and sanctity of the sacred place made me forget for some time about him and his prince-like figure. I was looking up at the ceiling admiring the well-painted scenes from the bible. Suddenly, I ran into him! Oh good heaven! I ran into my intriguing prince. My feet were cold as I looked at him. I said I was sorry so timidly I could barely hear myself. He smiled at me, and I froze again!

Thursday, June 10, 2010

C’est La Vie et C’est Jolie (Part 1)


Winter is cruel in Madrid. The wind blowing against my face doesn’t let me breathe. I have to close my eyes from time to time. The gloves and scarf I’m wearing are not enough to protect me from the coldness I feel. Nonetheless, I am blown away by the romantic Parque del Retiro and El Palacio de Cristal. Having walked about an hour and some minutes and taken some pictures of La Puerta de Alcalá, I finally enter the park. Imposing yet calming it welcomes me as I pass the gate with two pillars, one in each side. Each pillar triumphantly supports a monumental horse and its soldier. And as I looked at them, they silently tell me the place I am entering is sacred. So, what I am about to experience at the park is something it will stay in such a revered and quiet place. I keep walking. My feet touch the cold graveled path that leads to the center of the park. I look around and notice many couples seating on cold yet welcoming benches, and the sculptures surrounding the place are mute witnesses of what those couples reveal to each other: the first “I love you,” the romantic proposal, the saddening and heart-sinking “we need a break,” and the endearing “I’m interested in you, want to be more than friends?” And all these people look elegant as they sit and talk to each other, as they hold hands and look into the other’s eyes. They are Madrileños, and just as the city, they are elegant and proper. I keep walking to where the Palacio de Cristal is. I entered into the woods and the coldness is bitterer. But my hands are sweaty and my legs are frozen. It is not because of the coldness but for the nervousness and intriguing feeling running through my body. He said he’d be here by the lake in front of the palace. I see only a dad with his son feeding the ducks and swans. An old lady with a young companion holding her arm approaches. I stop walking so that the old lady and her guide can pass. They don’t look at me to say hi because that’s the norm in Madrid: mind your own business. I look around very carefully and can’t see him. It’s five o’clock. I know that because I asked the dad feeding the ducks and swans. Then it occurs to me. He’s from Madrid; punctuality is not one of his virtues. So, I decide to walk around and admire the palace and its beauty. I notice it is a small and simple palace, but beauty relies many times on simplicity and vice versa. I probably spend fifteen minutes admiring such a simple and beautiful palace when I realize I have forgotten the reason that brought me to this place. However, he is not here yet. My nervousness is more noticeable as my hands keep sweating and my stomach starts hurting. The cold wind does not bother me anymore. Where is he? I hate myself for not having a cell phone with me. But tutoring two people thrice a week on American English and its grammar rules barely lets me pay the rent and eat twice a day. So, there is no way I can call him… I mean, I can go outside the park and find a public phone, but what if he shows up and doesn’t see me around. He’d think I flaked and leave! This is really frustrating. OK. I need to calm down. It’s not the end of the world. I need to breathe and keep walking around the palace. How tranquil this place is! No wonder it’s called the park of the retirement. It can take you away from all the busy life happening in Madrid. It can help you forget all the issues and worries that overwhelm the soul. I think I have been waiting almost an hour, and he hasn’t shown up. What time is it? Who can I ask? Suddenly, the old lady and her companion pass by. I stop them and ask them in proper Spanish. They both look at me and notice I am a foreigner. “Que son las seis y cuarto,” the old lady’s companion tells me and keeps walking holding the lady’s arm. It’s six fifteen already. Over an hour he is late! I don’t know what to do. The night starts falling on the park and the light posts begin to switch on. I guess I have to go. I don’t really know what could have happened to him. I hope he is OK. I feel anger, though. I think he dumped me. What a jerk! I hate him already! After all, he must’ve thought I wasn’t a good catch. He might have felt interested in me because of my accented English or perhaps because I am a tourist from the New World, and it is rare to find one of us in the Old World. Yeah, he just probably thought it was a waste of time meeting me at the park in a city where there are better looking people to date. I walk towards the exit of the park. I turn around and notice how the sculptures of naked Roman women stare at me. They are probably yelling “loser” at me. But that’s OK! I am a loser, and that will stay at the sacred park.

Monday, June 7, 2010

Consuelo de palabras vanas

Impotente me siento al saber
que nada cura el error que tuvo mi ayer.
Lastimosamente, nunca se mantiene la dicha de niño
durante toda la vida: páginas de llana lucha
que jamás se termina.
Siempre he sabido con lógica heredada
la importancia de actuar con rectitud:
jamás interrumpir al que habla, siempre ser puntual,
dejar el lugar a los demás…
La inteligencia obtenida tras noches de estudio y tardes sin ruido
no ha podido llenar el vacio que invade mi ser.
Religión y oración son las alternativas,
sin embargo,
algunas veces son vanas salidas
que solo vacían mas mi interior.
Me he ensuciado con el lodo más impúdico
que solo la friega de espinas puede quitar:
que sangre mi cuerpo hasta desvanecer;
que llagas purifiquen todo mi ser.
Que llore el alma hasta mas no poder,
aunque lagrimas no purguen ni sanen
el dolor que llevo dentro sin ningún porque.
Pero una cosa he aprendido:
esfuerzo en vano es tirado al llano de la mediocridad.
Sin explicar que quiero decir,
cierro un capitulo mas de lo que siento expresar.
Nada es mas gratificante
que el poder hablar con los dedos
y llorar con las palabras que conjuntas expresan
el mas intenso sentir del alma que no me deja vivir;
consuelo de palabras vanas es el yugo
que con intensa pasión arrastra mi cuerpo
y otorga mi ser.