|
|
Chile was struck by an 8.8-magnitude earthquake last Saturday February 27 at 3:34 AM local time. The earthquake has left many Chileans homeless and hundreds killed. Chile is known to many as the most prosperous Spanish-speaking country in Latin America; Chile is also known for its copper exports, its empanadas (turn-overs), and its literary contributions. Chile has two Nobel prizes for literature: Gabriela Mistral in 1945 and Pablo Neruda in 1971 -both of them were poets.
Chileans have a special respect for nature; they’ve experienced so many earthquakes that those that live on the coast know to literally run for the hills to escape a possible tsunami after a strong quake. Along with this respect comes an admiration for nature. The two Chilean Nobel Laureates show this through their constant references to the sea, the forest, the mountains and the birds. Here are some examples.
Pine Forest by Gabriela Mistral
Let us go now into the forest.
Trees will pass by your face,
and I will stop and offer you to them,
but they cannot bend down.
The night watches over its creatures,
except for the pine trees that never change:
the old wounded springs that spring
blessed gum, eternal afternoons.
If they could, the trees would lift you
and carry you from valley to valley,
and you would pass from arm to arm,
a child running
from father to father
Those Who Do not Dance by Gabriela Mistral
A crippled child
Said, “How shall I dance?”
Let your heart dance
We said.
Then the invalid said:
“How shall I sing?”
Let your heart sing
We said
Then spoke the poor dead thistle,
“But I, how shall I dance?”
Let your heart fly to the wind
We said.
Then God spoke from above
“How shall I descend from the blue?”
Come dance for us here in the light
We said.
All the valley is dancing
Together under the sun,
And the heart of him who joins us not
Is turned to dust, to dust.
Water by Pablo Neruda
Everything on the earth bristled, the bramble
pricked and the green thread
nibbled away, the petal fell, falling
until the only flower was the falling itself.
Water is another matter,
has no direction but its own bright grace,
runs through all imaginable colors,
takes limpid lessons
from stone,
and in those functionings plays out
the unrealized ambitions of the foam.
Bird by Pablo Neruda
It was passed from one bird to another,
the whole gift of the day.
The day went from flute to flute,
went dressed in vegetation,
in flights which opened a tunnel
through the wind would pass
to where birds were breaking open
the dense blue air -
and there, night came in.
When I returned from so many journeys,
I stayed suspended and green
between sun and geography -
I saw how wings worked,
how perfumes are transmitted
by feathery telegraph,
and from above I saw the path,
the springs and the roof tiles,
the fishermen at their trades,
the trousers of the foam;
I saw it all from my green sky.
I had no more alphabet
than the swallows in their courses,
the tiny, shining water
of the small bird on fire
which dances out of the pollen.
-Silvia Viñas
Photos: Wikimedia Commons
We all judge books by their cover; admit it, you know you’ve done it. And it is OK, even if your fourth grade teacher told you otherwise. It is only natural to grab the book with the cover that best suits your personal taste when -for example- you find two versions of the book you wanted to check out at the library. Book publishers know this, and a whole lot of marketing strategies go into cover designs, as C. Max Magee writes in the online Magazine The Millions. Magee picked a sample of books from The Rooster 2010 Tournament of Books shortlist, and compared the US covers with the UK version of the same tittle.
However, you don’t have to cross the ocean (or pay the extra shipping) to get a different cover for your favorite book; when it comes to classics and world wide bestsellers, sometimes the same publisher will put out different covers for one book. Here are three versions from the same publisher, Penguin Books Ltd. The first book was recently reviewed in our Voices section.
Which cover would you take?
   
 
   -Silvia Viñas
Photos: Bookstore.co.uk
 “By the River Piedra I sat down and wept. There is a legend that everything falls into the waters of this river – leaves, insects, the feathers of bird – is transformed into the rocks that make the riverbed. If only I could tear out my heart and hurl it into the current, then my pain and longing would be over, and I could finally forget.”
And so the novel starts out. The most beautiful opening paragraph I’ve ever read in my life. And unless you are heartless or have never been in love, I don’t know how this wouldn’t at least rank somewhere on your list of most beautiful passages.
By The River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept was written by Paulo Coelho. He is best known for writing The Alchemist which just so happens to be my least favorite of the three books I’ve read by him. My introduction to Coehlo was The Zahir which was, like the other two I read, a beautiful story of love. Neither of those however prepared me for the beauty I would find in that very first paragraph of the novel.
It then continues:
“By the River Piedra I sat down and wept. The winter air chills the tears on my cheeks, and my tears fall into the cold waters that course past me. Somewhere this river joins another, then another, until – far from my heart and sight – all of them merge with the sea.”
A couple pages later the protagonist, Pilar, takes us back to the beginning to tell the story of how she ended up weeping for this young man. They seemed to have always loved each other, even as childhood friends. However, they grew up and took separate paths in life. He chose to leave their small town to learn about the world (a theme present in both The Alchemist and The Zahir) while she chose to take the prescribed path of enrolling in a nearby university. They kept in touch throughout his travels, and one day he invited Pilar to hear him give a lecture in Madrid.
The story is a whirlwind from here. Pilar struggles to accept and embrace her feelings for him. He struggles to reconcile his love for the seminary, the gifts he has been given and the love he has held onto for so many years. While the beauty of their love story as it unfolds kept me wanting more, I found myself disappointed, especially toward the end when I didn’t feel the same intensity of emotions as I did with the opening paragraphs.
Like the other Coelho books I’ve read, By The River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept carries a spiritual theme, as he touches quite a bit on the mystical nature of God. In this particular piece, he focuses on the young man’s belief in a feminine God that grants him the power to heal. For some this may be an appealing aspect of Coehlo’s writings, but it tends to throw me off. It gives me some of the same vibes that the Celestine Prophecy gave me, which is more eerie than anything else.
Nonetheless, I enjoyed this book. I have two more books by Coelho that I want to read, one of them comes with high praise from Melissa. And if you know me, you’ll know that there are very few authors from whom I’ve read more than one book. I must really like this guy.
–Mademoiselle Mitchell
Zora Neale Hurston: A Life In Letters by Carla Kaplan: I am currently researching and writing my thesis on Ms. Zora. As much as I would like to say I found her, I know, in a sense, that she found me. These letters written by her to, well, anybody you could imagine to be “in” the Harlem Renaissance crowd, serve as a tender reminder of one of our the greatest African American artistic movements in history. More importantly Zora, a woman who is famous for talking herself in and out of whatever you could imagine, teaches her readers how to play the game, precisely to win, and with a devilish smirk. Her letters of affection to her white benefactor Charlotte Osgood Mason are countered with letters to Langston Hughes concerning her contempt of whites “grabbing our stuff and running.” (126). They are full of love, and bitterness, and honesty, and an undeniable wit. She also lovingly refers to Carl Van Vetchen as…ahem… “Pinky Toe”. The book is a must read for lovers of Zora and language itself.
Women Culture and Politics by Angela Y. Davis: There aren’t many who break down race/class/gender struggles as eloquently as Angela Y. Davis. Her political activism over reaches the struggle for Black liberation. Davis’ work in prison reform and womanism are unparalleled, but we know this already (or we should). This collection of eighteen essays reads like a manifesto, for working class women of color. Davis captures the interconnectedness of the abuse and mistreatment of women and a capitalist agenda that perpetuates such conditions. I enjoy reading Davis’ works because she expects a certain level of familiarity and understanding to comprehend what she writes. It is enriching because it is not easy, and somehow the reader walks away fuller and richer having read it. this is all any writer can work towards and any reader can expect, and it is what I strive for as a writer. A quick quote from the book that I love:
“Politics do not stand in polar opposition to our lives. Whether we desire it or not, they permeate our existence, insinuating themselves into the most private spaces of our lives.”
Epic.
 James Baldwin Collected Essays: There really is no one who breaks down the interplay of race in US culture and institutions like James Baldwin. Reading him simply makes me more thoughtful, self aware, stronger in my convictions, and a better student of the writing process. Reading his essays are similar to simulating sex for me, his use of words are orgasmic. This collection includes “Notes of a Native Son,” “Nobody Knows My Name”, “The Fire Next Time,” “No Name in the Street,” “The Devil Finds Work,” and other essays, essentially providing the essence of Baldwin’s social commentary. I suggest it for those who have read Go Tell It On the Mountain but seek to view Baldwin outside of his fictional works. This book is my bible, I’ve highlighted, underlined it, and flagged it to death. It is rare that I can’t go to it as a reference in hoping to understand what our fight for freedom is founded in. It is much like a favorite musical score, beautiful written, rhythmic, riveting.
Anais Nin- Henry and June, From a Journal of Love- The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin
“Closer to what many sexually adventuresome women experience than almost anything I’ve ever read….I found it a very erotic book and profoundly liberating” (Alice Walker)
I just received this book on yesterday. I am a champion of Ananis Nin a writer of erotica, who is more widely known for her journaling. Her descriptions of her love and her lovers are vivid, rich, decadent. Many may consider that description redundant, but it is not, she is each of those words individually as well as collectively. Nin is one of those audacious women that I look to when I am unsure of my place. She says, be daring, be bold, be you, and be loved in all of those processes. Nin writes: “I will not rest until I have told of my descent into a sensuality which was as dark, as magnificent, as wild, as my moments of mystic creation have been dazzling, ecstatic, exalted.” You simply have to love that…
Jo is a student, writer, blogger and lover of all things Baldwin. She pens the blog Just Jo Nubian and publishes poetry at Wordgasms. Follow her equally poetic tweets @BeautyNubian.
Latinos are the largest minority in the United States. Their savory food and upbeat music is unavoidable wherever you go; but despite their visibility, Latinos don’t tend to make the Book section of The New York Times. Regardless of the media attention Latinos receive, there is a distinct Hispanic-American literary movement, and –I think it is safe to say—female authors are at its forefront.
So tune into your local Latin radio station to get in the mood and read on. Here are three Latinas and six recommendations to get you started:
Cristina García
 Picture from CristinaGarciaNovelist.com Cristina García is a Cuban-born writer; she moved to the United States when she was two years old and grew up in New York City. She began her writing career as a journalist, working for The Boston Globe, the Knoxville Journal, and Time Magazine as a reporter, researcher and correspondent. In 1990 García left Time and began writing fiction. Two years later Dreaming in Cuban, her first novel, was published. It was a finalist for the National Book Award.
She has written three novels since then: The Agüero Sisters, Monkey Hunting and A Handbook to Luck. This year she will be releasing her fifth novel, The Lady Matador’s Hotel.
García’s writing is beautiful; sentences flow easily one to the next, making her novels painless and enjoyable to read. She is known for the way she approaches the Cuban-American experience, exploring the Cuban exile from different perspectives–not just the anti-Communist Revolution angle many expect her to take. Her novels are filled with universal motifs that can be understood by readers of all ethnicities.
Add to your to-read List: Dreaming in Cuban or The Agüero Sisters
Click here for her website.
Sandra Cisneros
 Picture from Flickr user Gwinnett County Public Library used under Creative Commons License Sandra Cisneros is the author of The House on Mango Street, a novel many schools include in their Middle and High School curriculum. She was born in Chicago and holds an M.F.A in Creative Writing from the University of Iowa. She has written one other novel, Caramelo, published in 2002. Caramelo was named “notable book of the year” by several newspapers like The Chicago Tribune, The New York Times and the Los Angeles Times among others.
She has also written short stories, poetry and a children’s book.
Cisneros is the queen of the Chicano Literary Movement, being the first woman in the movement to get her work published by giants like Vintage and Random House. She skillfully exposes gender and race inequality with an accessible yet substantial writing style; her work is easy to read, but she tackles subjects that allow for insightful analysis of universal themes.
Add to your To-Read List: Caramelo or Woman Hollering Creek and Other Stories (short story collection)
Click here for her website.
Julia Alvarez
 photo copyright © by Bill Eichner. All rights reserved. Julia Alvarez was born in New York City but shortly thereafter moved to the Dominican Republic. Her stay in the Dominican Republic didn’t last very long due to her father’s involvement in the underground opposition to dictator Rafael Trujillo. She returned to the United States when she was ten years old. Alvarez earned a Masters Degree in Creative Writing from Syracuse University and published her first novel, How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accent, in 1991.
She has written five other novels (In The Time of the Butterflies, ¡Yo!, In the Name of Salomé, Saving the World and Return to Sender) as well as poetry, non-fiction, children and young adult books.
Alvarez is one of the most prominent Latina writers. Latinos living in the United States like the way her writing deals with issues they face; and Latinos living in Latin America like the way she describes significant historical and political events in the Caribbean. Her exceptionally well-developed characters have allowed women of all races to see their experiences reflected in her work.
Add to your To-Read List: In the Time of the Butterflies or In the Name of Salomé
Click here for her website.
-Silvia Viñas
Inspired by James Cameron’s unexpected announcement (he’s turning Avatar, the highest grossing movie ever, into a novel) the ladies at TresSugar have come up with a list of 10 movies that would make great books.
This list includes titles like Amelie, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and Almost Famous; movies that made some of us wonder, “Was that based on a novel?” See the other seven picks on TresSugar.
Besides the ones listed here, what movies do you think have a novelistic quality?
–Silvia Vinas
Photos: ING Movies
Wondering where’s the diversity in Chick Lit? If you’re craving a little more color in your cityscape, check out some of the reads below.
 Last Night a DJ Saved My Life by Lyah Beth LeFlore. Destiny Day is the hottest party promoter in NYC. With amazing friends, a bounty of boy toys, and generally dazzling life, Destiny seems to have it all. Packed with fun musical references, you’ll want to turn up your jams after reading.
 Gotham Diaries by Tonya Lewis Lee and Crystal McCrary Anthony. These two ladies offer an interesting peek into the lives of New York’s Black upper class. From the glitz and glamour of lavish parties to the reality of life behind closed doors, Gotham Diaries will take readers on a drama-filled journey.
 It Chicks by Tia Williams. In this teen novel, Williams shows you don’t have to be in your twenties or thirties to be fabulous. The girls that attend Louis B. Armstrong performing arts school could give many a Candace Bushnell character a run for their fabulosity. Pretty girls, bad boys, and plenty of drama (it IS a performing arts school after all) make for a delicious read.
 The Night Before Thirty by Tajuana “TJ” Butler. Five women win a radio contest to ring in their 30th birthdays on a cruise to the Bahamas. During their trip, the ladies open up to one another about life, love, and bonds are formed. Each woman gains a new perspective on the lives they lead before they return home. Each woman has a unique story so you’re bound to find a character you relate to.
–Ashleigh Menzies
 SheReads looks at the reading lists of cool chicks. If you want to be featured, send an email to uptown.literati@gmail.com.
Changing My Mind by Zadie Smith
“Zadie Smith novels are beautiful but I’ve always admired her as an essayist. This collection is everything I love about Smith – she writes fluidly and easily moves from literary criticism to journalism to movie/pop culture criticism. In my favorite essay, she discusses reading Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God and her struggle to reconcile her desire to an objective critic with her “extraliterary” affection for the book as a black woman. The essays are scholarly yet funny, and fun to read – she writes beautifully on a wide range of topics, from the merits of reading David Foster Wallace, to her father’s role in WWII to the disappointment in Get Rich or Die Tryin’.”
Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
“I wanted to love this book before I even read it because Adichie is a fellow Nigerian and it’s about time that another African book besides Things Fall Apart gets on the school reading list. The novel is set in the 1960s and tells the story of three characters during a violent period when citizens of eastern Nigeria fought unsuccessfully to establish an independent state of Biafra. I love historical fiction and this one is so well written. For a book that focuses on war and its ugliness, it captures the beauty of Nigeria and Africa so well.”
 A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson
“I try to read this book once every year. I love it because it introduced me to Bryson whose works I love. His books are funny, light, non-fiction that’s great for a plane ride or the beach. This is probably one of Bryson’s heaviest works (both in its size and subject). It tells the scientific story of everything, starting with the Big Bang Theory to the rise of Homo Sapiens. I love the clarity of the writing and the fact that Bryson doesn’t just delve into the science (astronomy, paleontology, physics, etc.) but also into the lives of the people who discover and test these theories. I’m always humbled by how little science I know when I read this book — it definitely makes me wish I paid more attention in science class.”
How to Change the World: Social Entrepreneurs and the Power of New Ideas by David Borenstein
“I read this book my first year of college and it had a profound influence on how I see the world. It tells the story of different social entrepreneurs, people who are applying business-based principles to bring about social change. This book was the start of a fascination with social change that led me to Muhammad Yunus, Ashoka, the Acumen Fund, Marjora Carter, and so much more. The stories are an inspiration and remind me that, no matter what I do, I need to make sure it matters and brings some sort of social value.”
Opé Bukola lives in New York City. She is the Founder/Editor of Zora&Alice an upcoming online magazine for young, black women. You can read about the magazine and writing opportunities here or follow Zora&Alice on twitter (@ZoraAlice).
 I deliberately avoided Lolita for years. Despite its reputation as a literary masterpiece, I was turned off by the story’s premise: a middle-aged man who kidnaps and rapes his teenage stepdaughter. The cover of a friend’s copy only reinforced my feelings; it showed a girl wearing bobby socks and saddle shoes, her knees awkwardly (childishly) tilted together, with an ominous shadow closing in on her. No thanks.
I finally read it because it just kept coming up – in classes, in pop culture, and when I joined Goodreads.com a few weeks ago it was one of the frequently read books they wanted me to rate. Besides, I’d read Azar Nafisi’s Reading Lolita in Tehran a few years ago and her discussion of the book made me curious about it. I mentally moved the book from a category I’ll call “Yikes,” to the “I’ll get around to it eventually” category. Last week I finally got around to it.
I had no idea of the creepiness that was in store for me. Unlike the movie, in which Sue Lyons could conceivably pass for 16 or 17, when the book begins Lolita is 12. Humbert, the narrator, repeatedly points out that she’s a child – he takes pleasure in noting Lolita’s half-price admission to parks and museums. Humbert also enjoys pretending that Lolita is his daughter (rather than his stepchild); meaning, the idea of incest sweetens the deal for him. His actions also, for a time, make Lolita into a whore. The two establish a monetary system for sexual favors: a hand-job (while she’s at school!) costs him 65 cents plus permission to act in the school play (p. 198); a “fancy embrace” (we can only imagine what that means) costs him $4 (p. 184). Perhaps the most singularly disturbing passage in the novel is Humbert’s daydream of impregnating Lolita, her giving birth to a daughter, then waiting twelve years to rape and impregnate “Lolita the Second,” and maybe – if he’s lucky – do the same to a third generation (p. 174). This is one of the vilest ideas I’ve ever considered in a story.
Yet, even though I wanted to hate it, I can’t deny that Lolita is a great work of art. I love the way Nabokov plays with language (Quilty lives on “Grimm Road,” Humbert stays at “Insomnia Lodge”), the book’s layers, the theme of artifice and masks, and the book’s symmetry (the novel’s first and last words are “Lolita;” Mrs. Haze, Lolita’s mom / Humbert’s landlady turned wife is mirrored by “Mrs. Hays” the hotel owner, also a widow, later in the book). At the same time, I can’t say that I wholly enjoyed reading the book.
 Since I found the events of the story to be so disturbing, I tried reading from Lolita’s perspective – as if she were the story’s heroine. However, doing so is not easy. Although you can cheer on her small acts of defiance (in one scene Humbert describes her “Swearing at me in language that I never dreamed little girls could know, let alone use,” haha), you can’t really know Lolita. As narrator, Humbert has such tight control of the story that it’s impossible to get a sense of her distinct from him. In the same way that Humbert can’t fully grasp or understand Lolita, neither can the reader.
Nabokov’s ability to make the reader sympathize/identify with Humbert is supposedly one of the things that make this novel great. Although the book is brilliantly written, I keep wondering, is Humbert’s perspective really all that unusual? Is it possible that it wasn’t all that difficult to get the reader on Humbert’s side because our culture already encourages us to view girls from the perspective of lecherous old men? There are too many examples (both fictional and real life) from popular culture to count: 12 year old Jodie Foster plays a hooker in Taxi Driver, Elvis dates 14 year old Priscilla, Britney Spears wears her sexy school girl outfit… the list goes on. Even my beloved Beatles sing, “She was just 17 / you know what I mean,” (yes, we know what you mean and it’s creepy). Perhaps this is why it’s so easy for us to identify / sympathize with Humbert – the watching and desiring of teenage girls is already tolerated in our culture with a wink and a smile. In some ways the book is just another depiction of a powerless young girl through the eyes of a desiring older man; it wasn’t the first and it certainly wasn’t the last.
Despite my concerns, I wasn’t entirely immune to Humbert’s charm. In the first third of the book – before he acts on his desire for Lolita – his eloquence has more currency with me. Although awkward and pretentious, Humbert is also charming: he’s well read, he’s sensitive and apparently he’s very handsome. Yet, for me, when Humbert breaks out the roofies (in order to drug and rape Lolita), his charm disappears. Unlike most critics, I just couldn’t forget how horrible Humbert’s actions were. Slate critic Stephen Metcalf writes, “With Lolita, you must work past its beauty to recognize how shocking it is. And for all its beauty, for all its immense ingenuity and humor, one easily forgets how shocking Lolita is.” Somehow, I wasn’t able to forget how shocking the book was. Perhaps the key to enjoying Lolita is allowing yourself to be swept away by Humbert’s prose and forgetting the actual events of the story. Maybe this is why I didn’t fully enjoy it – I just couldn’t forget how horrifying it was.
(Page numbers are from Alfred Appel Jr.’s annotated edition).
– Melanie
Review courtesy mmmetropolis.
Photo: indelible inc
Related Posts:
SheReads: mmmetropolis’ Melanie
|
|
