Goodbye dictators. Adiós. Arrivederci. Au revoir.

This has been probably the most entertaining class and best vacation from the mess of Commerce classes I have been so used to. Let’s face it, there’s nothing to laugh about in Accounting, jokes about debits and credits just don’t have the same appeal.

First, I’m going to take some time to defend the Wikipedia project. I do agree to some extent, that is has been a pain in the behind. But at the same time, I found it quite enjoyable. I actually do feel like I’m accomplishing something, doing something good for the world. Call me lame, fine. It could also be because I’m the type to not be satisfied until I have completed something fully. So how determined I am to get FA, but those darn Commerce projects just keep getting in my way. Careful, now is when you will realize how lame I really am. I think, to be completely utterly honest, after I finish this project, hopefully getting to FA, I will probably check back on the page from time to time. And every time I see that tiny little star on the top right corner, I will smile. Though I can say for sure, I probably won’t make any other edits because it is starting to get a tad bit annoying.

As interesting as it’s been, I have to say I think I’ve had enough of dictator novels. I am beginning to get mixed up between the novels as to what happened where, it’s all becoming a jumble of violence, sickness, opposition, control, and betrayals. Speaking of betrayals, The Feast of the Goat. I’m about 50 pages from finishing, it’s definitely intriguing but I think it’s one of those books that lose its flavour after the first read. The suspense just disappears once you find out what happens. Last comment about the book and its vulgarity: double yuck and shame on Trujillo and Cabral.

I’ve enjoyed the ride that is this class. It’s been fun. Remember way back when, when we had a dictator election. Oh good times. Thanks Jon. And thanks to all the cynics in the class, it wouldn’t have been the same without you.

Oh, and I still <3 Bolívar. (Though I’m beginning to dislike the book, darn Wikipedia.)

The mystery unfolds in The Feast of the Goat

I have to admit, when I first started reading this book, I really was not all too interested in it. It didn’t quite capture my attention. But that has changed quite a bit. Now I find myself reading more and more because I want to get to the next chapter that continues each story. Oh how tempted I always am to read one full story/perspective first. When we were discussing in class how “cinematic” the novel is, I began to imagine it as a play. Because quite often in a play there are stories told from different perspectives and when each scene ends, the audience is left hanging about what would happen next, but it somehow all comes together in the end. It is definitely a really creative way to write a book, and the weirdest thing is that are sort of flashbacks within flashbacks. Kinda confusing actually.

I’m not quite done the book yet, but when we discussed in class about the ending about Urania being about sex, I wasn’t surprised, I had a feeling. This book is so full of hidden secrets. In a way, it’s really different from The President, where everyone wrote letters to him telling him what was going on. But in this case, everyone seems to be hiding something. The assassins are hiding their secret assassination plot; Urania is hiding her reason for leaving from her family; the reason why Senator Cabral was dismissed is hidden from him.

One part that I found quite interesting, even though it’s before the second half begins, is on page 160. Urania thinks to herself, “You could have gone into therapy, seen a psychologist, an analyst… But you never wanted to be cured. On the contrary, you don’t consider it a disease but a character trait, like you intelligence, your solitude, your passion for doing good work.” I think when I first read it I was shocked that she would intentionally choose not to see a psychologist about her “issue”. But reading over, it just seems strange, to consider something that is like a disease to not be a disease, but a character trait. It seems so... twisted. I’m not sure that’s the word I’m looking for. But it is interesting how in a way she chose to continually be haunted by the past, to dwell on the past, always reading about the Trujillo era; instead of letting go. I suppose it is a part of the book though, the fact that though she doesn’t want to go back, she eventually does anyways, finding herself pulled back. But with that quote, it’s more like she is letting herself be pulled back because obviously she’s a strong woman, rejecting marriage proposals. Am I starting to go in circles now? Maybe… I think I’ll stop.

Oh last thing, it is strange that at the beginning, I was reading to get to the part where Trujillo is killed, but then now after I read it, it doesn’t even seem like the most important part of the story. I want to know more about Urania and her dirty little secret.

Better late than never, The Feast of the Goat

Indeed, this blog post is quite late, but at least I am still writing it! With another one coming up in just a couple of days.

The first and main thing that has been on my mind while reading this book, is how extremely vulgar it is. I understand that this could actually be how men in their position at that time spoke, but it’s kind of degrading. As I read more every day, all I think about is how incredibly vulgar it is. Did I say that already? Well yes, that is something that really bothers me. I’m not a person who curses that frequently, and I know people who do. But I think maybe the thing that surprises me is that it is in a book; I never would have really thought of books to have that kind of language. Even though I have read books with a few words here and there, I have never seen it to this extent. But I suppose it’s not like there is some rule that there can’t be any cursing in novels.

Aside from that rant, this novel does seem quite different from the ones that we have read previously. It seems so modern, and so English in a way. Not sure if that makes any sense, but for me, while reading the other books, I kind of always remembered that they were in translation because the writing seemed different in some way. Maybe it is because the book was written only some 8 years ago (right?). But I was expecting it to be more representative of the time period which it is about.

One thing that it does have in common with the other novels is the way in which it is written in an illogical order. It’s like reading mini stories from different perspectives that are cut up into little pieces, and reorganized. But I suppose this way is easier to read than if it were to tell the whole story from Urania’s perspective, and then again from Trujillo’s, and then again from the conspirators’ perspective.

I know I haven’t really talked much about the content and what is actually going on in the story, but I don’t feel like I have anything really to comment on. I’m still waiting for more of the storyline to unfold. One thing that I can say now is how sad it was that Amadito wasn’t allowed to marry his love. Oh and Trujillo – definitely a dictator. His comments during the luncheon to/about Díaz, and sleeping with everyone’s wives, what I would have thought of the stereotypical dictator.

I <3 The General in His Labyrinth

The perfect way to describe this book: anticlimactic.

First off, I’d like to say that as much as I enjoy reading Gabriel García Márquez’s books, this was one that I didn’t quite fall in love with at first; but now has definitely grown on me since researching so much for Wiki. And I applaud García Márquez because I realize after researching, how much time and effort he had actually put into writing this novel. There are so many small details that needed to be considered and indeed have been, such as Bolívar’s constipation (thanks Carla for always reminding me of that!), and his guava fetish. Yes I know the word fetish might be a slight exaggeration.

So I decided to write about something that may not seem appropriate in a class entitled “Murder, Madness, and Mayhem”; and that is, the topic of love.

I have noticed that in at least all the novels by Gabriel García Márquez that I have read, love seems to be a common theme. And not only that, it appears it is often some sort of “forbidden love” or love that is wronged. For instance, in One Hundred Years of Solitude, there were many love affairs between relatives that most I think would consider taboo; in Love in the Time of Cholera, it is a love story but also involving many other love affairs. In The General in His Labyrinth, the General engages also in numerous love affairs and one night stands, a number of them with young virgins, and Manuela cheats on her husband with the General. I think the General is not only lost in a labyrinth of wars, victories, history, sickness; but also in a labyrinth of love. Though his relationship with his wife is only discussed once in the novel, I have a feeling he really did love her, and is almost trying to drown his sorrow in the numerous love affairs. And his feelings for Manuela were likely genuine as well, as he writes to her, “My love for you is steadfast.” (153) And he also says at one point in the book, “There is great power in the irresistible force of love.”(58)

Something else really neat that I found out during research is that García Márquez had actually said in an interview, “At bottom, I have written only one book, the same one that circles round and round, and continues on.”

And even if I haven’t learned anything from this book and from doing the Wiki page, at least I’ve learned and mastered the shortcut keys for all those vowels with the little accents on top. (áéíóú!!!)

The Ugly Duckling of Dictator Novels - The General in His Labyrinth

“Only my master knows what my master is thinking.”

Thus far, this dictator novel is unlike the others; it reeks of sympathy. Readers are finally able to see a dictator from a normal, human, emotional perspective. It almost seems safe to say that it is a novel written by an author whom is unbiased and not attempting to take a cheap shot at a real life dictator. I for one, feel so sorry for the General. He’s fallen seriously ill, away from his lover, being betrayed by many in the countries he has liberated. How appropriate it is that Jose Palacios repeats this line a few times within the first half of the book. It is likely also very intentional on the part of García Márquez to emphasize that he is not writing to try to get in the mind of the dictator, unlike Roa Bastos and The Supreme.

I have to admit that I am fairly excited to see the extent in which the General is lost in his “labyrinth.” Already in the first half of the book, I noticed that the word ‘disillusion’ has been used several times. It is interesting that though the book tries to follow a certain logical order, at the same time, it cannot manage to do so. The novel progresses according to the journey the General takes along the Río Magdalena, but the memories and stories that are retold are not really in the order in which they occur.

Though this may be a subtle detail, but I found it note-worthy that the General is simply named “the General”. Not “The General.” But “the General.” I mean it was “The Supreme.” And for me at least, the title of a general doesn’t seem that high-ranking. During a part when they were speaking with the Governor, I actually had to take a moment to confirm that Bolívar was the General and not the Governor, which I think sounds more authoritative.
As of now, I feel like the General really is a sympathetic character and a nice man. I feel like I could be his friend. No, not that kind of friend like Manuela. Just a friend.

(I still have trouble finishing blogs in half an hour, unless it’s at this time of the day. Don’t you sometimes find that you tend to work faster when you know the amount of potential sleep remaining for the night ticks away with the time. Goodnight :-) )

The-end-but-not-really of I, The Supreme

So I’m going to be honest – this blog entry is four days late and I have yet to finish the book. But, I AM determined to finish it.

Disclaimer: This blog will be all over the place. Like the book.

As I was reading, I was continually searching for some topic to discuss on my blog. I would find something but then as I read on, forget about it. In addition to what we discussed in class today regarding the correlation between length and difficulty of a book, I myself find it not so much a matter of length, but instead the extent of small details. There are so many smaller stories within the big story of this book, such as the stone village, the pen obssession, etc., that I think it makes the novel hard to read. I say this because I found One Hundred Years of Solitude difficult to read as well, and it was just 18 pages less than this book; but it was the large number of characters and their personal events and stories that I think made it hard to follow. And I think that the power in actually within the reader and the novel is up to the reader’s interpretation because I think we all remember specific parts of the book more clearly. While I will discussing the book witih Carla, she talked about a cat story, and I had absolutely no recollection of it, but it was something that she remembered very well.

I’m also still EXTREMELY confused about the relationship between the compiler and Roa Bastos. Perhaps this is addressed at the end of the book which I haven’t got to yet, but after reading the “Final Compiler’s Note” today in class, my head was spinning. I can’t tell throughout the entire book, whether it is the compiler or the author writing. And perhaps Roa Bastos is the writer and is using the title of the compiler to create anonymity and power in writing. But essentially, if the book is simply a compilation as is said in the “Final Compiler’s Note”, then what did Roa Bastos write?

Unlike most novels in which the mystery of problem is solved as the story progresses, thus far, I feel even more confused than I was at the beginning. They don’t seem to have come much closer to determining the writer of the note; and not only that, they have added a lot more mysteries. The stone village! I want to know what happened there! But from the looks of it, I don’t think that will be talked about anymore. I predict I will be still searching for answers at the end of the book. Page 199, why did Patiño have The Supreme’s pen, and how did Loco-Solo “inherit” it? Sounds fishy.

Oh, page 256. The compiler’s note about El Supremo’s prediction in the Appendix – why does he have to add that? Why couldn’t he just let it be a surprise? Why in the middle and not at the bottom of the page like usual? I was so tempted to skip the rest of the book and flip straight to the Appendix. It’s like the compiler is intentionally trying to distract and divert the reader’s attention.

But, I am going to end this on a positive note. I really do see the intricacies of the book and how complex it can be. I still am more intrigued by the way in which the book is written instead of by the content, but I’m not sure if I would enjoy the content more if I knew more about the historical stories and “facts” that The Supreme writes about. I would like to understand more about the way the book is written and a bit about the orange tree, because I found that was one thing that was mentioned quite frequently. It's likee a bittersweet, love-hate relationship. So long and difficult, but at the same time, it draws you in.

So I guess I did have a lot to say about this novel. And maybe one day when I want to challenge my literary sense I will even re-read it.

'Tis I, The Supreme

Thus far, I am having many mixed feeling towards this book. Like most in the class, I feel like the book is never-ending; but at the same time, I’m intrigued by the intricacies of the book and can almost begin to see its potential of surpassing One Hundred Years of Solitude and being what Jon claims, the greatest novel in Latin American literature.

I very much feel…confused.
When I began reading this book and noticed there were no quotation marks to distinguish dialogue, I was not excited. However, I do have to say it has gotten easier to determine who is saying what. But sometimes I am still confused as to what The Supreme is telling Patiño to write. And all the stories and historical accounts that The Supreme is telling, I just can’t seem to retain any of the information. It seems to me that the novel is progressing in an illogical manner. Personally, I just can’t really see the progression other than in their search for the author of the pasquinade. Unlike the President where characters seem to continue on in the story, in this book, it seems to me that each story that The Supreme tells is irrelevant to the rest of the book. For instance, the story of the stone people and Tevegó, it was interesting but so far (up to where I have read at least), there does not appear to be any reference or explanation of it anymore. Nothing really seems to be revisited, but instead more and more stories are told.

But sometimes I feel…enjoyment.
As we had talked about in class, it is true that the book is sometimes funny. One part that I enjoyed quite a bit was the discussion between The Supreme and Patiño regarding his regular attire (90-91). The image of The Supreme wearing “[p]atent leather pumps with gold buckles” seems quite peculiar; and it seems those belong in the closet of Carrie Bradshaw (Sex and the City, for those who are unaware) and not of The Supreme, a dictator. I also found it hilarious when The Supreme describes the portrait that Don Juan Robertson had painted of him as “a confused mixture of a monkey and a sulky girl.” (90) One can only wonder if that is what The Supreme truly looks like!

And I also feel…sympathy and admiration.
So far, it doesn’t seem like The Supreme is really as horrible as most would think. Though I’m sure he had done some pretty nasty things; however, he doesn’t appear to be that bad of a guy. First, he puts up with Patiño! On occasion, Patiño has insulted or stood up to The Supreme (see above, “gold buckle”), and yet The Supreme has yet to say “Off with your head!” like you would think most dictators would have done. He seems quite tolerant and patient with Patiño. I felt sorry for The Supreme when he was in a way betrayed by the two Swiss doctors whom he had treated quite well (114, Compiler’s Note).

On a last note, while reading this book, I feel like I’m paying more attention to the style in which it is written instead of the content. It’s just interesting how different it is, such as the lack of quotation marks, the footnotes, compiler’s notes, El Supremo’s note, differentiation between The Supreme’s private notebook and perpetual circular, and the notes in the margin of the private notebook. Again, I’m trying to figure out how everything comes together in what I hope will actually be a logical order.