A. Initial Thoughts This book has quickly become my favorite among the ones we’ve read in class. While both novels explore the lives of women, I find myself deeply in love with “Time of the Doves” and Natalia’s journey, far surpassing my like for “The Shrouded Woman.” There’s something about the raw, beautiful writing of … Continue reading Time of the Doves: I Actually Liked Quimet (Feb 24)
Posted in Blogs, Rodoreda | Tagged with 5 Stars, motherhood
Mercè Rodoreda’s novel, “The Times of the Dove,” was a captivating and page-turning read told through the lens of a resilient and hardworking mother who struggled through the Spanish Civil War. The narrator, Natalia, provided readers with valuable insights into how women lived through the war and the challenges they had to face to provide […]
Posted in Blogs, Rodoreda | Tagged with hope, love, marriage, motherhood, Suffering, Symbolism, war, women
The Time of the Doves tells the story of the two marriages of the heroine, Natalia, living in the period of Spanish Civil War, when she first meets and falls in love with Quimet in the square. But their married life was not a prosperous one, and to make matters worse, Ouimet enlisted in the […]
Posted in Blogs, Rodoreda | Tagged with Chaotic, marriage, memory, motherhood, Spanish Civil War, tragedy
Wow! This book was so heartwrenching but amazing! the character-building and descriptions were truly encapsulating. Natalia’s life was so beautifully captured, and I felt so immersed in the story. I’ll admit at the beginning I was not into the book that much because of Quimet and how much I disliked him. I was upset at […]
Posted in Blogs | Tagged with Colometa, dovecote, family, motherhood, Quimet, Spain, Time of the Doves, war
This Novella was an interesting ride. It follows an upper class kid who is on vacation with his mother. As the story progresses, we see the protagonist’s changing perception of his mother. I dare to question the author’s perception of women, lower social classes and Freudian theories by the way he shaped the main character’s […]
Posted in Blogs, Moravia | Tagged with COA, coming of age, family, Freud, Italy, life, love, Mommy Issues, motherhood, parenting, summer
‘Amulet’ by Robert Bolaño gave me an insight on how much my reading patterns have changed since I was in high school. I had to read a boom much akin to ‘Amulet’ in my second to last year of high school; I’m sure many of you know it. ‘Chronicle of a Death Foretold’, by Gabriel García Márquez is one of the most famous books in the genre of magical realism. Back when I first read it, I was interested, but I found it incredibly hard to read, as I think many people who had never read magical realism would. While I understood I also did not understand. It was never quite clear what happened and what didn’t, whether there was a meaning or there wasn’t. This same feeling was brough into my reading of ‘Amulet’ as well, however, this time I enjoyed the confusion. Instead of searching for answers to everything, I just read the text as it was, which allowed me to absorb the story much better with less confusion.
As I read, I understood that anything was possible, that the events happening were often just extended metaphors for Auxilio’s emotions and what was occurring around here. Although, in a sense that I remembered I should question everything occurring in the story. All of the stories Auxilio told of her future, I realised half way through, may not have even happened in the end. Maybe she was purely imagining her future as she was slowly affected by her lack of food and life in the university bathroom. Really, we can never find out her true life. Even her past, in which she talks about living with famous poets and gallivanting around Mexico, could have been falsehoods she came up with during her days of isolation. At the end of the story, I found myself wondering what being the “mother of Mexican poets” actually meant. Was this truly Auxilio’s life and status, or was she simply imagining herself in a life she would rather be in? Even in the end of the novella, when she is rescued and the story of her survival is shared, she is ascribed many other realities by the people telling her story.
While I know we don’t often discuss the author’s role, something I couldn’t stop thinking about was the reason behind Bolaño writing this story the way he did. While questioning Auxilio, I found I was also questioning Bolaño. I understand his message (I think), but his use of showing Auxilio’s future (which has not happened yet), his use of a female narrator (who was based off of a real person, but it still seemed odd to me), and his strange fixation with Auxilio being a mother without actual children, were hard for me to fully comprehend. I can appreciate his choices, but at the same time, I still cannot understand why some of the literary choices he made were important. I wonder whether everything has a very specific meaning, or whether some of his choices were made on a whim with no connection or attempt for them to make sense – lending to the magical realism genre.
My question for this week builds off of this; why do you think Bolaño felt the need to tell this story from the perspective of Auxilio as opposed to a character more similar to himself? I am aware the basis of the story comes from a real situation, but I wonder what compelled him to tell this story the way he did.
Posted in Blogs | Tagged with magical realism, marquez, motherhood, narrator, poets
‘Amulet’ by Robert Bolaño gave me an insight on how much my reading patterns have changed since I was in high school. I had to read a boom much akin to ‘Amulet’ in my second to last year of high school; I’m sure many of you know it. ‘Chronicle of a Death Foretold’, by Gabriel García Márquez is one of the most famous books in the genre of magical realism. Back when I first read it, I was interested, but I found it incredibly hard to read, as I think many people who had never read magical realism would. While I understood I also did not understand. It was never quite clear what happened and what didn’t, whether there was a meaning or there wasn’t. This same feeling was brough into my reading of ‘Amulet’ as well, however, this time I enjoyed the confusion. Instead of searching for answers to everything, I just read the text as it was, which allowed me to absorb the story much better with less confusion.
As I read, I understood that anything was possible, that the events happening were often just extended metaphors for Auxilio’s emotions and what was occurring around here. Although, in a sense that I remembered I should question everything occurring in the story. All of the stories Auxilio told of her future, I realised half way through, may not have even happened in the end. Maybe she was purely imagining her future as she was slowly affected by her lack of food and life in the university bathroom. Really, we can never find out her true life. Even her past, in which she talks about living with famous poets and gallivanting around Mexico, could have been falsehoods she came up with during her days of isolation. At the end of the story, I found myself wondering what being the “mother of Mexican poets” actually meant. Was this truly Auxilio’s life and status, or was she simply imagining herself in a life she would rather be in? Even in the end of the novella, when she is rescued and the story of her survival is shared, she is ascribed many other realities by the people telling her story.
While I know we don’t often discuss the author’s role, something I couldn’t stop thinking about was the reason behind Bolaño writing this story the way he did. While questioning Auxilio, I found I was also questioning Bolaño. I understand his message (I think), but his use of showing Auxilio’s future (which has not happened yet), his use of a female narrator (who was based off of a real person, but it still seemed odd to me), and his strange fixation with Auxilio being a mother without actual children, were hard for me to fully comprehend. I can appreciate his choices, but at the same time, I still cannot understand why some of the literary choices he made were important. I wonder whether everything has a very specific meaning, or whether some of his choices were made on a whim with no connection or attempt for them to make sense – lending to the magical realism genre.
My question for this week builds off of this; why do you think Bolaño felt the need to tell this story from the perspective of Auxilio as opposed to a character more similar to himself? I am aware the basis of the story comes from a real situation, but I wonder what compelled him to tell this story the way he did.
Posted in Blogs | Tagged with magical realism, marquez, motherhood, narrator, poets
Roberto Bolaño’s Amulet is the journey of a narrator who is originally from Uruguay but later shifted to Mexico with influences from other Latin American countries as well. The narrator and the author reflect on Latin America while living in another Spanish country. To start, I enjoyed reading this novel as, based on the migration […]
Posted in Blogs, Bolaño | Tagged with latin america, memory, motherhood, war
Carmen Laforet’s Nada felt very modern, and others might disagree with me but I thought it even felt somewhat contemporary. Sure, that might be because the translation was done relatively recently (2008), but I think it’s more so to do with its timelessness. The story has so many themes that are fundamentally about people and their relationships to each other; I don’t think humans change all that much from one generation to the next, and I reckon many of our problems are the same as they were centuries ago, and will continue to be centuries from now.
I hesitate to delve into these topics too deeply, but two themes that really resonated with me in this book were those surrounding Andrea and Ena’s friendship, more specifically the way that Andrea views Ena and puts her on a pedestal, and that of a mother’s love.
These two themes fascinate me in different ways. The former reminds me of a friendship that I once experienced a few years ago and so I felt a little uncomfortable seeing a semi-similar dynamic play out on the pages of a novel. Not to get too vulnerable up in here, but I was especially struck by the power dynamics between Andrea and Ena. Ena clearly has more status, in a social and economic sense, and so Andrea often implies a sense of inferiority and admiration, almost worship. I do feel that the relationship between the two is more exaggerated than my own has been, but sometimes it takes a more extreme example to make the subtleties and nuances of people’s characters and relationships to become visible.
In this novel, there are two mother figures that particularly caught my attention. Ena’s mother, and Andrea’s grandmother. Yes, there are others such as Gloria, and Ena’s dead mother, but they didn’t pique my interest like the other two did. These two characters are very different in many ways, including with social standing, financial status, but especially in the way they view their daughters. Ena’s mother confesses on p197 that Ena holds a particularly special place in her heart, more than her sons. Andrea’s grandmother is accused later on in the book (p234) of having always preferred her sons to her daughters, and is therefore blamed for the consequences.
The dynamics of motherhood and fatherhood, alongside daughterhood and sonhood are things that I have thought about a considerable amount over the past few years, having listened to different conversations and experiences. I have heard both perspectives (not within my family); parents who especially value the firstborn daughter, and parents who prefer their sons. I think both perspectives are interesting, though not necessarily correct, and am aware of the damage they can have on the non-preferred children. This novel merely showed me more examples from a different time, place, and culture than those I have personally been exposed to, and I am grateful for that.
I now pose the question: what might Andrea’s life look like in Madrid, now that she has left her dysfunctional family behind? Do we think she might feel any abandonment guilt?
Posted in Blogs, Laforet | Tagged with Carmen laforet, motherhood, nada, power, relationships, status, vulnerable
Carmen Laforet’s Nada felt very modern, and others might disagree with me but I thought it even felt somewhat contemporary. Sure, that might be because the translation was done relatively recently (2008), but I think it’s more so to do with its timelessness. The story has so many themes that are fundamentally about people and their relationships to each other; I don’t think humans change all that much from one generation to the next, and I reckon many of our problems are the same as they were centuries ago, and will continue to be centuries from now.
I hesitate to delve into these topics too deeply, but two themes that really resonated with me in this book were those surrounding Andrea and Ena’s friendship, more specifically the way that Andrea views Ena and puts her on a pedestal, and that of a mother’s love.
These two themes fascinate me in different ways. The former reminds me of a friendship that I once experienced a few years ago and so I felt a little uncomfortable seeing a semi-similar dynamic play out on the pages of a novel. Not to get too vulnerable up in here, but I was especially struck by the power dynamics between Andrea and Ena. Ena clearly has more status, in a social and economic sense, and so Andrea often implies a sense of inferiority and admiration, almost worship. I do feel that the relationship between the two is more exaggerated than my own has been, but sometimes it takes a more extreme example to make the subtleties and nuances of people’s characters and relationships to become visible.
In this novel, there are two mother figures that particularly caught my attention. Ena’s mother, and Andrea’s grandmother. Yes, there are others such as Gloria, and Ena’s dead mother, but they didn’t pique my interest like the other two did. These two characters are very different in many ways, including with social standing, financial status, but especially in the way they view their daughters. Ena’s mother confesses on p197 that Ena holds a particularly special place in her heart, more than her sons. Andrea’s grandmother is accused later on in the book (p234) of having always preferred her sons to her daughters, and is therefore blamed for the consequences.
The dynamics of motherhood and fatherhood, alongside daughterhood and sonhood are things that I have thought about a considerable amount over the past few years, having listened to different conversations and experiences. I have heard both perspectives (not within my family); parents who especially value the firstborn daughter, and parents who prefer their sons. I think both perspectives are interesting, though not necessarily correct, and am aware of the damage they can have on the non-preferred children. This novel merely showed me more examples from a different time, place, and culture than those I have personally been exposed to, and I am grateful for that.
I now pose the question: what might Andrea’s life look like in Madrid, now that she has left her dysfunctional family behind? Do we think she might feel any abandonment guilt?
Posted in Blogs, Laforet | Tagged with Carmen laforet, motherhood, nada, power, relationships, status, vulnerable
