Woman Hollering Creek

Sandra Cisneros knows about love. About the innocence and totality of the love found in a childhood friendship. About the loss of this innocence and the sting of your first betrayal. About the incapability to deny love once it has set itself in a young heart. About unrequited love. About forcing yourself to endure a love that is superficial and injurious. About letting go of counterfeit love. About never letting go of genuine love. About the unending depths of family love. About public love. About private love. About jealous love. About vindictive love. About misplaced and projected love. About wanting love. About needing love. About giving love.

 

And goddamn, the woman knows how to write. Reading this, I felt as though I was being guided through the inner workings of the tender heart of each of the characters, as they were either awestruck or utterly disappointed by love.

 

I must also say that although this book can clearly be identified as feminist literature, and Mexican or Chicano literature, I really feel that Cisneros’ writing surpasses all of that. These are universal tales of the human condition, and it is a pleasure to read such a truthful account of what we all go through. 

 

“I want to come undone, like a gold thread, like a tent full of birds”.                              

 

Second installation of thoughts on Rivera

The overwhelming sentiment running through the individual tales of this book is tragic. The second half chronicles a betrayed love-induced suicide, a burning truck of Mexican workers, a house-ridden mother who suffers extreme anxiety and encounters blatant racism when she finally gathers the courage to venture into white America, and a sheisty businessman who tricks his own people not only out of money, but of beloved personal memories as well. This unforgiving view of the Mexican and Chicano experience on the northern side of the border is what gives the book its appeal as a genuine account.

 

However, Rivera takes a turn towards the hopeful in the last chapters of the novel. By entering into the minds of various passengers aboard a stopped truck, we are privy to a broader perspective, and I think the sense of community that Rivera wants to portray becomes much more obvious. Personal suffering is transformed into public compassion and acceptance. The end of chapter “morals” that the author provided us with throughout the book often had a negative note, but the final one we are given is undoubtedly positive. It speaks of a traveling Mexican poet who incorporates specific people from his community into his work and reads it to them aloud, creating not only a sense of interconnectedness, but of love and hope as well.

 

Of course, the final entry solidifies this idea, as we realize that, indeed, all of the events retold in the book were interrelated and contained within a fairly small group of families. The narrator, although remembering some harrowing stories, comes to a point of inner peace and joyfulness at the simple thought of being part of a community, and his only desire is to join all of these people in a massive embrace. He realizes that the key to a happy existence is inclusion, not segregation, an important message for Americans (and people in general) of all backgrounds.

Wow, so it would appear based on my last two entries that I am starting to see the world in a somewhat cheesy new light. Hahahaha. Sorry, I just watched Zeitgeist: Addendum and I really can't help it. Also, I think I actually believe it. 

Martí...por fin

Sincerest apologies for my tardiness, I know everyone is long over this, but alas, it must be done. Sooo, what to say about José Martí? His writing is exquisitely detailed? Done and done.

 

Well, let’s see, to elaborate slightly, I have to say that I did find this style, although beautifully eloquent and conducive to sparking the imagination, a little over the top in the article on the Brooklyn Bridge. I appreciate the desire to stress the grandiosity of the New World, and its ever-growing tentacles of imperial power, but I found the excessive description almost off-putting to the reader. And I can’t imagine that his audience at the time was comprised purely of Spanish speaking scholars, so I fear that it may have been lost on more than a couple people back in the day as well. Nonetheless, if tackled with the right state of mind, it certainly does offer a wealth of richly stylized literature and more importantly, keen insight into the ways of the new American people and where they might be heading.

 

On that note, I found the essay on Coney Island to be the most enjoyable in its shrewd criticisms of the glutinous society it portrayed. To return to the passage that we discussed in class, I came across an interesting (and I believe unintentional) similarity between the Hispanic and Anglo cultures being compared. Naturally, Martí feels as though the tendencies and aspirations of his people are superior to those of the Americans, which may in many ways be a just opinion, but I think that while singing the praises of the Latin-American spirit, and its constant search for betterment, he touches upon a universal truth that applies to the society under attack as well.

 

On the top of page 126, he says that the Latin soul is in a never-ending quest for a higher level of love and idealism, which, once attained, seems insufficient and an even more glorious goal takes their fancy. This is all well and good, and I am not one to argue that on the whole, America seems to be lacking in spiritual truth and goodness, but he is describing the exact same process that he criticizes in the “other”. You strive for something with all your heart, be it moral or physical, but once you have it in your grasp, it loses your interest and you need something else to fill the gap. This is the very course that has lead to overindulgence and mass consumption of products and entertainment in the United States. You can think it more noble to be in pursuit of moral and spiritual enlightenment, but I believe that the cycle itself is the same, and is destructive and pointless in any circumstance and with any goal. Desire and avarice only lead to emptiness and insatiable longing.

 

Ok, sorry to get all philosophical on your asses, but I think it would do everyone good to remember that we are all essentially the same and that we all struggle with the same demons. Oh, and the other stories were alright too.