Rudolfo Anay, "Bless Me, Ultima" (Part Deux)

Joe and Simon ("Simon Birch")

November 13th, 2012

     With one week's worth of reading, I have made a substantial amount of progress with Bless Me, Ultima and will go as far as deeming it the best novel that I have read in my short, but reading-filled collegiate career. That's high praise coming from someone who has never been a huge fan of reading. In today's class anlysis, we focused primarily on the sensory aspect of Anaya's Chicano classic. To be honest with you, that connection was one that I had never made and was one that really didn't appeal to me all that much. Antonio's battle to decypher the happy medium between satisfying his young, Catholic ideals and newfound, "seeing is believing" pagan beliefs is nothing short of incredible and connects with me, as the reader, on a personal level. Take for example the brief conversation between Antonion and his new "pagan-priest" of sorts, Samuel:

     "The golden carp," I said to myself, "a new god?" I could not believe this strange story, and yet I could not disbelieve Samuel, "Is the golden carp still here?"
     "Yes," Samuel answered. His voice was strong with faith. It made me shiver, not because it was cold but because the roots of everything I had ever believed in seemed shaken. If the golden carp was a god, who was the man on the cross? The Virgin? Was my mother praying to the wrong God?

(Rudolfo Anaya, Bless Me, Ultima, 81)

 



     It seems like everyone is able to tie in our assigned readings into movies like "Avatar" or "Inception." Neither of those movies have I seen and I'm not really a huge fan of movie watching. That being said, this novel makes me think so much of my favorite movie, "Simon Birch." "Simon Birch" is the story of two boyhood friends, Joe and Simon, who are considered by the other citizens of their small New England town to be outcasts. Simon is plagued by a peculiar bone disease that makes him greatly smaller than the rest of his peers. As if the teasing and jeers of those that surround him aren't enough, one Summer day in 1964, Simon accidentally hits a foul ball that strikes Joe's mother in the head, killing her on impact. The movie tells the tale of how both boys, with age, begin to lose their innocence and even go as far to discover that Joe is an illegitimate child, fathered by the town's very own priest. Both Simon and Joe question their identities as they discover more about where they have come and begin to negatively view the faith in which they have matured over the years. Simon's continual source of peace is a firm belief that God has put him on earth to be a hero and fulfill his destiny. 

     Just as Antonio struggled to find the balance between Catholicism and paganism, Simon Birch and Joe attempted to justify who they in the eyes of God despite what others say about where they had come from. Simon clings to the belief that God has a special purpose for him on earth and has given him a small frame specifically so that he can fulfill his life's calling, even when the town priest continually attempts to tear down Simon's faith. Likewise, Antonio finds solace in the unseen powers of Ultima, even though her methods often bring him confusion in regards to the power of a God that appears to be powerless under the authority of the Catholic church.

     Mother Teresa of Calcutta had a similar "trial of faith" or life-altering doubt that caused a great deal of turmoil within her personal thoughts. Mother Teresa died the 5th of September, 1997 and after several months investigating her private journals it became public knowledge that for a number of decades Mother Teresa experienced a crisis of faith. In her own words, "Jesus has a very special love for you," she assured a fellow christian. "[But] as for me, the silence and the emptiness is so great, that I look and do not see, — Listen and do not hear — the tongue moves [in prayer] but does not speak ... I want you to pray for me — that I let Him have [a] free hand." Very similar feelings were felt by both Antonio and Simon. For me, both the novel and the movie propose an interesting question: Is doubt an essential step in the path leading to true faith?

 

(Simon's foul ball kills Joe's mother)

Rudolfo Anaya, "Bless Me, Ultima"

November 6th, 2012

     When I told my roommate that I was going to be reading Bless Me Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya, a book that he had read his freshman year of high school, I was bombarded with nothing but negative comments and predictions of future visits to Sparknotes in search of refuge from mind-numbing literature. With bruises still visible from my experiences with Iracema, reluctancy crept over me as I opened the book and scanned over those first few pages. However, to my surprise, I found the first seven chapters of Anaya's novel to be extremely down to earth, reader-friendly, and engaging for the reader in the sense that Anaya really helped me find and identify the similarities between my own life and Chicano culture.

     "My father's dream was to gather his sons around him and move westward to the land of the setting sun, to the vineyards of California. But the war had taken his three sons and it had made him bitter. He often got drunk on Saturday afternoons and then he would rave against old age. He would rage against the town on the opposite side of the river which drained a man of his freedom, and he would cry because the war had ruined his dream. It was very sad to see my father cry, but I understood it, because sometimes a man has to cry. Even if he is a man."

(Rudolfo Anaya, Bless Me, Ultima, 14-15)

 

     For me, tears have always been an interesting thing. I have never been a horribly emotional person. The women of my family have always been the type of people that wear their emotions on their sleeves and are never afraid of putting the "waterworks" on display for all to see. As a missionary, in the Missionary Training Center and also the mission field, I experienced frequent displays of emotion, namely crying, on a consistent basis for really the first time in my life. I was often so overcome by the kinds of experiences that I was having, both positive and negative, that my pride and attempt to maintain a respectable level of "manhood" came crumbling down. As others around me, investigators and members alike, spoke of life's ups and downs and the various things that had happened to them, it was amazing to watch the physical manifestation of a deeper, inner feeling come forth. It's as if tears are nature's way of humbling her inhabitants. A man can deny what he feels until the tear makes its way from the duct to the cheek, providing sufficient evidence for all to see that something very real and deep is ocurring. There is no denying what others can see.
 

     Now for the fun part: Metallica. Forget the Disney songs that so many of us seem to be able to tie in to Latin American Humanities, Metalica's "One" could not be any more relevant. Looking beyond the power chords, long hair, and shredded jeans, "One" tells an extremely interesting tale of a war-torn soldier and his fight for happiness in a future lifestyle that will have little to offer him. While fighting in World War I, his face is blown off  by a mortar which deprives him of his ability to hear, see, smell, and taste. Finding himself with no arms or legs, he is consigned to a hospital bed where he spends his days reflecting on his life and the things that his father had taught him. Doctors are stunned by his frequent "spasms" that, oddly enough, don't seem to be harming his health. In an attempt to better understand the apparent medical phenomenon, the soldier's general is called in to see what he can do. As the general and a soldier accompanying him enter, immediately a spasm occurs. After a few minutes of continued movements, the accompanying soldier realizes that there is no spasm. The wounded soldier had been using morse code to communicate with the hospital staff. His message? K-I-L-L-M-E.
 

     From what I have read thus far in Bless Me Ultima, the war (WWII) is viewed as a curse of sorts that changes both men's desires and who they are. Immediately after the aforementioned quote was given by Antonio's father, Gabriel, Lupito kills Chavez. In search of an explanation for the sudden tragedy, Gabriel says: "Ay que Lupito, the war made him crazy." Just as Gabriel is brought low by what appears at this point to be a shattered dream, so to was the nameless soldier whose fortune would never change. Two men, humbled by life's challenges, were forced to sacrifice their "manhood" and submit to the will of a higher power.

 



    

     (Metallica, "ONE" - watch this video and this whole thing will make a lot more sense)

 



Alejo Carpentier, "The Kingdom of This World"

October 31st, 2012

     "The Kingdom of This World" by Alejo Carpentier, has to be the strangest novel that I have ever read during my collegiate career here at Brigham Young University. I appreciated how quick of a read the book was, but was a bit thrown of by the sensual content and "real, in-your-face" subject matter. What was both difficult and interesting for me, as the reader, were the feelings that Carpentier evoked inside of me in regards to slaves and their own acts of immoral rebellion. Never before had I attempted to look at the world from a slave's perspective. A world filled with sorrow, anguish, temptation, sorcery, and the ever allusive appeal of freedom. What most drew me in and what will serve as the basis of this blog post was Ti Noel's ability to, near the end of the novel, relate better with his prior slave owners and view the masses as they most certainly did.
     After having mastered the ability to transform into animals, just as his hero Macandal had done, Ti Noel makes a realization with what appears to, in my opinion, yield a double meaning. The narrator explains:

     "Once he had come to this decision, Ti Noel was astonished a thow easity it is to turn into an animal when one has the necessary powers."

(Alejo Carpentier, The Kingdom of This World, 172)

     Further on, after having experimented with numerous transformations, Noel finds himself living for a brief period amongst a group of geese. Upon attempting to establish himself as a goose like unto the rest of the geese, "he encountered (nothing but) sawtoothed beaks and outstretched necks that kept him at a distance." Knowing for himself that he was, in fact, their superior as a wildlife transformer, the narrator describes Noel's thoughts and feelings stating that:

     "Thus Ti Noel quickly gathered that even if he persisted in his efforts for years, he would never be admitted in any capacity to the rites and duties of the clas. It had been made crystal clear to him that being a goose did not imply that all geese were equal."

(Alejo Carpentier, The Kingdom of This World, 177)

 

     The first time that I read the quote found on page 172, I interpreted it just as I suppose that most people do the first time they read it. Literally, it was easier to transform into any animal after having found the necessary powers. Upon further interpretation, I felt differently, however. As Ti Noel, increased in power and dominion over those that surrounded him (his ability to transform into animals whenever desired), he became more "animal-like." He became more primitive, domineering, and inclined to seek that which benefitted him over the needs of the group.

     Noel's brief experience as a goose solidifies the previoulsy mentioned opinion in that, just as his previous masters had felt, being like the masses does not necessarily denote natural equality among the group. In Noel's own life, Dominicans, Haitians, slaves, and slave owners alike were all human beings, yet, with the societies social parameters soundly established, suddenly Dominicans were of a higher status than Haitians and slaves at the bottom of all social castes. Perhaps, Noel, at the end of his life in the ACTUAL Kingdom of This World found his ultimate happiness in a higher level of understanding. Understanding of mother nature, society and it's institutions, and man as a whole.

 

**** Philip Zimbardo's Stanford Prison Experiment ****

 

     "Heroes are those who can somehow resist the power of the situation and act out of noble motives, or behave in ways that do not demean others when they easily can."

                                                                                                   - Philip Zimbardo





     



 

    

 

Jorge Luis Borges, "The Garden of Forking Paths"

October 24th, 2012

(Not a traitor. Great salsa dancer.)

     When Professor Mack said that upon reading the short stories of Jorge Luis Borges that our "minds would be blown," I have to admit that I was a bit skeptical. As a newbie to the world of the humanities I have learned a great deal about art and the interpretation therof, literature, and even music from time to time (my hips don't lie). Above all else, I feel that one of the most important things that I have learned is how to think in a completely new way that I had never previoulsy discovered. That being said, the prophesy of Professor Mack would come to prove itself truthful. My mind was blown. Take for example this exchange between Stephen Albert and Yu Tsun in the actual garden of Jorge Luis Borges', The Garden of Forking Paths:
 

“In all of them,” I enunciated, with a tremor in my voice. “I deeply appreciate and am grateful to you for the restoration of Ts’ui Pen’s garden.” “Not in all,” he murmured with a smile. “Time is forever dividing itself toward innumerable futures and in one of them I am your enemy.”

(Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden of Forking Paths, 100)

     The idea behind the garden of forking paths is one of bifurcation. Bifurcation is the splitting of time rather than space. Just as the multiple garden paths continue to exponentially fork, Ts'ui Pen, in both his novel and garden, presents a world where all possible outcomes, in any situation, reveal themselves no matter the apparent contradictory consequences. What makes the aformentioned quote all the more interesting is that, mid conversation with Yu Tsun, Stephen Albert applies the theory that he had just finished explaining, presenting the fact that he very well could be an enemy of his. Professor Mack put this literary skill of implementing an author's theory into his own plotline beautifully stating, "The form is in the content."

     It seemed like I never fully was able to understand exactly what Borges was talking about until the very end of his stories. I appreciated the closure that he offered and always looked forward to the conclusion knowing that he would reveal some nugget of information that would get me thinking. As Yu Tsun enters a world of alternative endings and finds himself with a man that inevitably must serve as both his friend and enemy, he shoots him. An abrupt ending to a splendid getaway, yet, it produced feelings of betrayal inside of me. Not that Albert had betrayed Tsun in any way, but the mere possibility was enough to push Tsun over the edge.

What famous examples of betrayal can the world and its very own history provide us with? Marcus Brutus and his betrayal of Julius Caesar in Rome on the Ides of March, Benedict Arnold and his sudden sympathy with the British, Lance Armstrong and his lack of honesty in regards to his "clean" Tour de France victories, and of course Hulk Hogan body slamming Andre the Giant in a complete and utter act of disgusting traitorship in 1987. However, no example matter the level of betrawal, no other comparison can even begin to identify to the severity of the "knife in the back" of Jesus Christ by one of the twelve, Judas of Iscariot.

     These decisions to "switch sides" and present something that could not be farther from the truth are made infamous by the nature of the trust between the traitor and the follower. As mentioned, Judas was entrusted by Christ with the sacred aposteship. Not even the highest of callings could persuade Judas to stay the course and follow the Savior of mankind. This ties in beautifully with The Garden of Forking Paths in that, although in this life not all outcomes will come into play, the ever-present factor of agency continually lingers over the heads of those that have already "pleadged allegiance" in one way or another. Borges attempts to portray this eternal principle subtly through an impossible scenario that, in reality, could never be closer the fence-sitter: The Power to Change. . . .  FOR BETTER OR FOR WORSE.

"There must be a positive and negative in everything in the universe in order to complete a circuilt or circle, without which there would be no activity, no motion."

                                                                          - John McDonald

("The Body Slam Heard Round the World"

 

 

 

    

    

Emilio Fernandez, "Maria Candelaria"

October 17th, 2012

     The only format in which I would feel comfortable citing, not only Twitter, but MY OWN tweet nontheless, would be for a blog for Professor Mack's Latin American Humanities class. Perhaps I wasn't thinking clearly, but I didn't think that, upon tweeting Professor Mack directly, he would bring it up in class the very next day . . . he did. This is the tweet: "@toddkmack Maria Candelaria is a grade A+ babe #modestishottest #nevernude #itscomplicated #ihum260." I was definately trying to be somewhat humerous, but it's true what I said. The topic of today's blog is that of BEAUTY and the way that director, Emilio Fernandez, presents the true beauty of Maria Candelaria in his film.



     Dolores del Rio is the actress that plays the role of Maria Candelaria (I will continue to refer to her by her full name because they refuse to do anything else in the movie). Clearly she is a physically attractive woman and, in that time period, was considered somewhat of an "exotic beauty." In order to more fully take advangtage of her appearance, Fernandez displays the beauty of the innocent, humble Maria Candelaria through various "framing" techneiques, as Professor Mack pointed out in class, and by way of frequent close-up shots to better accentuate the near perfect facial feature of Dolores del Rio.

     Apart from the obvious methods employed by Fernandez, symbolism was also a key component. I am just about the worst person when it comes to "reading into" works of art and discovering just what the author, director, or artist is trying to portray but I think that maybe, just maybe, Fernandez intentionally used THE FLOWER as a means of providing the viewer with an even deeper understanding of the real beauty of Maria Candelaria. Not only a beauty which appeals to the natural eye, but a beauty which lies much deeper, within Maria Candelaria. Maria Candelaria, by profession, sells flowers. Many times, unrightfully so, people are identified with what it is that they do to support themselves. In the case of Maria Candelaria's mother, something horrendous that ocurred years earlier would not only identify her for the rest of her life, but would follow the life of her daughter untill the very moment of her untimely death. The store owner is depended upon. The painter is respected and admired by all. Maria Candelaria is cast in a negative light because of her poverty and is nothing more than a flower saleswoman.
     Reflecting upon Maria Candelaria and her societal postition as "la Mujer de las Flores," my mind quickly thought of the ideal symbol of pure beauty: THE LOTUS FLOWER. As stated by a buddhist monk:

"The lotus flower is one of the most ancient and deepest symbols of our planet. The lotus flower grows in muddy water and rises above the surface to bloom with remarkable beauty. At night the flower closes and sinks underwater, at dawn it rises and opens again. Untouched by the impurity, lotus symbolizes the purity of heart and mind. This pattern of growth signifies the progress of the soul from the primeval mud of materialism, through the waters of experience, and into the bright sunshine of enlightenment." (http://jendhamuni.com/news/articles/lotusFlower.htm)


     Born and raised in the muddy waters of Xochimilco, Mexico, Maria Candelaria sprung up, just as the beautiful lotus flower does, "untouched by impurity." Beauty takes many forms, and in the cases of Maria Candelaria and the lotus flower, nearly finds perfection in innocence, communion, and redemption.

    

Juan Rulfo, "Tell Them not to Kill Me!"

October 10th, 2012

     Excited to return once again to The Oxford Book of Latin American Short Stories, I couldn't help but draw insights from it's content. This week's assigned reading came from the short story "Tell Them not to Kill Me!" by the famous Mexican author, Juan Rulfo.
    
     "His eyes, that had become squinty with the years, were looking down at the ground, here under his feet, in spite of the darkness. There in the earth was his whole life. Sixty years of living on it, of holding it tight in his hands, of tasting it like one tastes the flavor of meat. For a long time he'd been crumbling it with his eyes, savoring each piece as if it were the last one, almost knowing it would be the last."
 

(Juan Rulfo, The Oxford Book of Latin American Short Stories, 287)

 

     In this passage, Juvencio, a poor Mexican farmer who finds himself running from the law for a crime that he committed numerous years prior, expresses his utter disappointment for the inevitable fate that awaits him at the end of his death walk, through the land that he has worked througout his life. Clearly, it is a relationship of both love and hate. For more than sixty years Juvencio worked hard with the land and livestock that one day would be the ultimate cause of his murder and own execution. This "give and take" or "love and hate" relationship between mother earth and Juvencio was a risky one that is known all to well by countless farmers around the globe and can only be truly understood by those who lead this kind of lifestyle. As the words of a famous agrarian, revolutionary corrido state, "The Earth belongs to those who work it." (Dawn Ades, Art in Latin America, 165)

     Being from Oklahoma, I have had the opportunity to deal with many a farmer and speak with them about the ups and downs of making a living off the land. As I read this passage, my mind quickly reverted back to my second grade class when we studied on a basic level the history of Oklahoma. Oklahoma was founded and populated almost completely by the Land Run of 1889. Prosperity and fortune was the pursuit of these hard-working U.S. citizens and a life of diligent labor was expected in the hopes of obtaining a plentiful, subsistance-based living.

     Unfortunately for the "Sooners" of Oklahoma, the great and dreadful Dustbowl of 1934-1936 would soon hit and cause the same despair, helplessness, and state of panic that Juvencio displays walking towards his own execution as he reflects on the curse of the land that he lovingly gave his life to. I can only begin to imagine the feelings of self-loathing and pure frustration that filled the minds of those who gave all that they had to treck across the Great American Plains in order to establish, what was thought to be, a safe and sure future. As history, without fail, relates, a lack of understanding in regards to crop rotation, fallow fields, cover crops, and other techniques to prevent the further damning effects of wind erosion were not yet discovered and many lost all that they possessed.

     Unknown by many and eerily similar to the ultmate fate of Juvencio, tragedy trounced the hope of redemption and many young plainsmen found themselves taking their own lives, seeking refuge in suicide. Juvencio, on the other hand, was punished for his own actions. In both cases, the land or lack therof (Juvencio's animals grazing in the claimed pastures of another), led to the permanent demise of the individual and convalescent state that preceded that fall. Perhaps, in opposition to the aforementioned corrido, THE EARTH OWNS THOSE WHO WORK IT.



Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis, "Father versus Mother"

October 3rd, 2012

     I have been more than candid on this blog about my lack of passion in regards to the Humanities and have openly admitted that I am still trying to figure out exactly what it means to interpret famous works of Latin American art (I'm terrified of the fact that we are going to be listening to music tomorrow). The cultivation of that skill is one that surely takes a healthy amount of time. That being said, Tuesday's assigned reading was incredible. The short stories that we read were captivating, exciting, and full of suspense for the reader. Unfortunately, my favorite of the three short stories we read was not analyzed in class nor opened to discussion. Below is my favorite quote from that story, Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis', "Father versus Mother:"

     "As a matter of fact, Candido would have liked to have done something else. Not for the reason suggested by Aunt Monica, but for the simple pleasure of changing his trade. It would be a way of changing his skin or his personality. The trouble was, he did not know of a business he could learn fast."

(Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis, Father versus Mother, 92)

 

     Candidio, at this point in the story, is desiring more than anything a drastic change in occupation. He finds himself a failng "slave chaser" in a market that could not be more jam-packed with men willing to risk life and limb in pursuit of runaway slaves. Weighed down by feelings of panic, guilt, shame, and quite possibly a lack of manhood for his inability to provide for the needs of his wife and "soon to be born" child, Assis opens the door to Candido's innermost thoughts and feeling in the aformentioned citation.

     The most important aspect of the piece references Candido's feelings toward a career change saying, "It would be a way of changing his skin or his personality." The narrator's analysis immediately made me think of a general conference talk that was given a couple of years ago on the difference between "to be" and "to do." The talk was entitled, "What Matter of Men and Women Ought Ye to Be?" and was given by Elder Lynn G. Robbins of the First Quorum of the Seventy and was given in the April General Conference of 2011. I'll apologize right from the beginning for my cliche religious breakdown of something as temporal as Brazilian literature, but I promise to make these sort of connections sparingly. Elder Robbins, in his address, presents the extremely tight relationship that there is between "to be" and "to do." The action of "doing" is a direct bi-product of what and who someone is, the "be." However, that being said, "to do," without "to be" is complete and total hypocrysy because the feeling, passion, and devotion behind what others see, "the fruit" of ones labor, is nothing more than a fallacy. Consequently, in order to change the "do" of an individual, the "be" is what must be focused on. In Assis,' "Father versus Mother," Candido, in his most desperate of states, felt that he needed to change his profession in order to change both his skin and his personality. In reality, although it be nothing more than a short story, Candido needed a focus more centralized on his personal values in order to motivate a temporal change, such as a profession. If an image ("skin") is Candido's main worry, a change in occupation will do nothing more than offer a change in title. Take for example the statement proposed by Elder Robbins in regards, coincidentally, to both IDENTY and PROFESSION. He said,

"Identity confusion can also occur when we ask children what they want to be when they grow up, as if what a person does for a living is who he or she is. Neither professions nor possessions should define identity or self-worth. The Savior, for example, was a humble carpenter, but that hardly defined His life." (https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2011/04/what-manner-of-men-and-women-ought-ye-to-be?lang=eng)

Such was the case for the savior, and such would have been the case for Candido.