Corporal memory

I might have to go out there and just say it: Carmen Rodríguez’ work has been my favourite of the course selections. It kept my attention easily riveted and provided much insight into a country’s political struggle of which I was largely ignorant. More importantly than this, I found her style of writing very conducive to emotional connection with the pain felt by her characters. Interestingly, what a lot of other students expressed as frustrating or confusing aspects of the book, were part of what intrigued me so. I wasn’t bothered by the apparent overlaps in the accounts or of the characters, and didn’t try to cling to a linear storyline, nor attempt to guess how much of the narrative was her own. Simply knowing (or feeling) that the events described happened to someone, somewhere, was more than enough to captivate, shock, and at times repel but ultimately attract me to the stories.

Of course, the identity of a political activist in Chile exiled to Vancouver, is a fairly unique experience, and the details are what make it so striking, but as I mentioned in class, I don’t think that too much import should be placed on setting. As far as I’m concerned, one of the great things about the book is that it does allow many different people from many different origins to relate to the basic human struggle of going through political turmoil at home and then having to face emotional estrangement in a new environment amid a new language. The detailed account of “her” story is a great vehicle for the message, and will certainly educate many a reader on the situation in Chile, but I think her work goes far beyond the boundaries of a Chilean woman living in Vancouver.

Anyone who has been forced to leave their home, and even some of us who have done so willingly, understands the anguish of inescapable memories. Some you hold on to for dear life, some you would much rather leave behind, but ultimately, the sum of your personal experience rests inside you forever. Whether you actively recall history or not, it will never cease to exist, and whether through your mind or your body, it will manifest itself in your actions and personality for as long as you live.

 

Los García

Although I don’t find her writing style quite as richly nuanced as Cisneros’, I do appreciate the story being told in this book, and the read has been flying by so far. I realize how fortunate I am to have been raised by hippies in a mostly open-minded society, but even still, it’s always helpful to be reminded of just how much intolerance and backwardness continue to haunt the world. It’s truly disturbing to see how inequality and closed-mindedness have been ingrained into a culture’s communal behaviour and thought processes. Now I wouldn’t be so naïve (or racist) as to believe that every Latin-American family out there goes through this, nor would I think for a minute that there aren’t millions of Americans (white and otherwise, and let’s not forget the rest of the world’s lovely inhabitants) who foment an equally disgusting attitude towards women and any incarnation of “the other”. For the purpose of this blog, however, I shall attempt to remain on task (always a challenge for me, as I just can’t help but tend towards idealism, as pretentious and annoying as I know it is. Sorry.).

In fact, although the father figure here is undoubtedly stuck in the past (somewhat hypocritically, since it was he who originally brought the family to America and wanted the girls to fit in), along with “the mother”, the family core is loving and compassionate, which is a lot more than can be said for most of the scenarios presented in Woman Hollering Creek. I am no proponent of religious zealotry (or extremism of any kind, for that matter), because its main purpose and result is to keep people’s minds glued to petty details and blind to the bigger issues, thus leaving a gaping hole for the higher-ups and what-have-you’s to do as they will. Gah, blasted ramblings again. Anyway, my point was that despite all this, I cannot deny the fact that tradition and moral stability can instil in a few good souls a beautiful and unwavering love. This is where I place the mother. And in spite of all their understandable moaning, it would appear thus far that the girls are going to come out on the other side pretty much unscathed and well adjusted, due to their strong character and the abundance of genuine affection in their lives. In the meantime, however, I am enjoying identifying with their struggles to strike a balance between old and new, Dominican and American, good and bad(ass).