And the Earth Did Not Swallow Him

If you have not seen the movie, go and see the movie. Koerner Reserve section. And the Earth Did Not Swallow Him (1995).

As one of many class members who struggled a bit with the fact that this already obscure and abstract text was written in another language, I benefited greatly from seeing the movie. It really helped to tie things up for me and assured me I was on the right track... that I understood the novel properly. The movie remains fairly faithful to the novel, as much as is possible anyway, due to the abstract and disjointed nature of the text. The vignettes are more chronological in order and the story is slightly more focused on the perspective of Marcos, the young boy, than the Mexican American workers on the whole. The feeling you get from watching the movie, however, and the general expressive purpose are both very true to those intended by Rivera in the novel. The plight of the oppressed Chicano is very well presented and the injustice and hypocrisy of the entire situation are brought to the forefront.

One of the moments that struck me the most, in both the book and movie, was when the young boy points out in frustration that the Mexican Americans are always saying "when we arrive... when we arrive... " (104) and yet they never really arrive. They are a displaced peoples. They have no true home, no true identity, no place to which they ever feel they properly belong. Their lives are a constant struggle, a constant frustration as they live on the oppressive terms of others.

I feel as though the young boy, called Marcos in the movie, is so very insightful for a child. And I think it definitely has to do with the hardships he has endured at such a young age. The discrimination he has faced and the injustice he has encountered have made him old before his time. The child has seen so much and suffered so intensely that terrifying entities such as God and the devil don’t incite the same kind of daunting, immobilizing fear in him as they do in the average child. He has the nerve to call the devil and to declare that there is no God to his devout Catholic mother. The child is truly remarkable and his harrowing life experiences have shaped him to be the introspective, inquisitive young soul that he is by the end of the novel.

Rivera, I'm Liking Your Style

As I read further and further towards the heart of …y no se lo tragó la tierra, the feelings of pity and disgust that the novel has evoked within me seem only to intensify. The heart-wrenching story told by a young immigrant boy appears to worsen consistently with no hope of eventual improvement in sight. The injustice experienced by the young boy and the Chicano migrant workers around him is infuriating. The fact that he is condemned for defending himself when physically attacked in the bathroom is beyond maddening. Although I am often angered by the injustice brought forth in the novel, I am thoroughly enjoying Rivera’s writing. The disjointed style that seems to have confused and frustrated so many classmates is in fact what I am enjoying most. Throughout the novel, Rivera continually jumps around from one narrative voice to the next, expressing at various intervals the perspectives of intolerant young bullies, heartbroken mothers, indignant young victims of racial discrimination, and so on. The multitude of voices Rivera brings to the page via his fragmented vignette style of writing give the Chicano struggle a universal quality. If the story were told in one fluid motion from beginning to end, through the perspective of the young boy, the reader would sympathize with his plight and receive a limited concept of what life was like for the Chicano immigrant. Rivera’s style, however, is much more conducive to a proper concept of the hardships, the discrimination, the displacement experienced in Chicano life. The manner in which Rivera interjects at sporadic intervals with the disembodied voices of unexpected, unintroduced Chicanos is therefore crucial to the reader’s understanding of the widespread nature of this oppression. I love that Rivera has not only found a purpose significant enough to write about, but a style that enables him to multiply exponentially the impact he achieves over his readers.

...y no se lo tragó la tierra

I’m having a much better time with Rivera than I had with Marti. Both I believe to be good writers, yet I much prefer Rivera’s writing style. His small short-story-ish vignettes are so simple, yet beautiful (and great for us those of us with extremely ADD reading habits). He is succinct and to the point, which makes sense as it is largely written from the perspective of a child.

The passion with which Rivera writes is contagious. I particularly enjoyed “Un Rezo.” A parent’s love is so sweet and pure. It saddened me how desperately the speaker wanted to see their son again. That they would offer up their own heart in exchange for their son’s. Some of the subject matter is quite sad but I’m enjoying the occasional humorous bits. I’ve also enjoyed the odd occasion on which Rivera makes subtle social criticisms that reminded me of Ruiz de Burton’s writing. Rivera draws the reader’s attention to the idealistic vision the Latino immigrants have of the United States in a somewhat heartbreaking manner, as it is from the perspective of an innocent, young boy.

I noticed that many classmates seem to be finding it confusing, but I think you just need to be patient when reading this style of literature. I have faith it will all come together soon. Overall, quite a good read. I’m thoroughly enjoying it. Well done, Rivera.

El Puente De Brooklyn

Although I found the Martí readings very challenging to get through, I thoroughly enjoyed his beautifully descriptive writing style. The vocabulary used to create the vivid imagery found throughout his works is extremely aesthetically pleasing. Although the Brooklyn Bridge is certainly an impressive work of architecture, it is really just great big hunks of steel and stone. I was rather impressed at Martí’s ability to produce such a poetic and inspirational piece of literature. A passage I particularly enjoyed involved the personification of the statue of Liberty:

“imagínase ver sentada en mitad del cielo, con la cabeza radiante entrándose por su cumbre, y con las manos blancas, grandes como águilas, abiertas en signo de paz sobre la tierra,—a la Libertad, que en esta ciudad ha dado tal hija. La Libertad es la madre del mundo nuevo,—que alborea” (423).

The passage speaks of Liberty herself, seated on high, overseeing the teeming, bustling Brooklyn Bridge with approval (423). With images such as this, Martí has succeeded in making me, as the reader, feel as though this bridge truly does represent much more than its physical form would suggest. I have never given much thought to the bridge myself. To me, it has always just been an ugly, old, dirty structure that is basically just there, in the background of New York. After reading this passage, however, I see it in a new light. The Brooklyn Bridge is a symbol of unity, forging connections between brave, hopeful immigrants who have struggled through oppression to reclaim the right to be free citizens of the new world. Yes, it is all overly idealistic and patriotic, but it is beautiful. There is no harm in that.

Who Would Have Thought It?... A Feminist Novel?

I have been trying to make up my mind as to whether or not Who Would Have Thought It? is a feminist novel since last class. One must admit, it is most certainly a debatable topic. As was pointed out in class, it would be nearly impossible for one to write a novel set in 1872 that did not contain enough instances of gender inequality to make any feminist's blood boil. Is the presentation of gender issues inherent to nineteenth century male-dominated society, however, sufficient cause for one to label Ruiz de Burton's writing as feminist? I have given considerable thought to the issue and I feel that while the issue of gender inequality is inextricably bound with many of the controversial themes addressed in the novel, it is not intentionally central to Ruiz de Burton's purpose. Maria Amparo Ruiz de Burton is clearly a very intelligent and persuasive woman. Her knack for subjective portrayals of the issues she feels passionately about is evident within the first few pages of the novel. Every minute detail of the story she presents is conveniently sculpted to express her personal opinion as the author. It is for this very reason that I believe if Ruiz de Burton's primary agenda were to produce a feminist discourse, the reader would surely know it. It interesting to note that for central female characters in the novel we are given Mrs. Norval, a cruel, cold, racist, greedy woman and her shallow daughters, Ruth and Mattie, who care about nothing more than fashion, wealth and appearances. These women are clearly antagonists and yet even the good women in the novel are no pillars of strength or virtue. Although Lavinia is cast in a somewhat charitable light for her selfless dedication to her patients, she is also pointedly presented as foolish for allowing herself to be seduced by both Hackwell and Hammerhard, with no proper assurance of marriage. Even Lola, arguably the most righteous of female characters in the novel, although she does no wrong, hardly does right either. She does not really do anything. Although central to the plot, Lola is barely involved in the story of her own pitiful life. In light of Ruiz de Burton's selection of weak and foolish female characters, I therefore think it can be safely argued that although gender issues play a role in the novel, it is not outwardly feminist in nature. If feminism were the driving force behind Who Would Have Thought It?, Ruiz de Burton would certainly have fabricated far more virtuous, intelligent women of substance as her female protagonists.

ruiz de burton... what a woman!

I find it very interesting that so many class members have found Who Would Have Thought It? to be such a tedious and frustrating read. I have loved every minute of it! This woman has got spunk! I have found myself laughing out loud at frequent intervals throughout the novel, mostly out of appreciation for Ruiz de Burton's unrelenting boldness. Her tone is so blatantly bitter and cynical, and yet some of her criticisms are so subtle that she manages to achieve a certain harmony within the text. I have read certain chapters multiple times and from each additional reading, I take something different away. The fact that she dared to write something so politically inflammatory and outwardly critical of her society in 1872 warrants a great deal of respect. For a woman to write a novel as opinionated and socially critical as Who Would Have Thought It? would be a bold move today. For her to have proclaimed such a strong message at a time of such widespread narrow-mindedness, therefore, was no less than courageous.

I find it ironic that Rosaura Sànchez and Beatrice Pita's introduction mentions Ruiz de Burton's concern that readers would "find fault with her text" (vii). Not only does she raise a multitude of insightful points, but she expresses them in a very eloquent manner. I particularly enjoy the use of Greek mythological characters for the names of her own characters. I love the melodramatic characters, I love the sarcasm and I love the extent to which the novel condemns the horrendously racist viewpoints of the late ninteenth century. So far I say well done, Ruiz de Burton, and I look forward to the rest of the novel!

beth 101

My name is Beth and I am a fourth year UBC Arts student. English Literature is my major and Spanish Language is my minor. Once I finish my BA degree, I plan to take the twelve-month Teacher Education Program at UBC in order to become a secondary school English teacher. After teaching high school for a few years, it's quite possible that I'll go back to school, get my Masters and Ph.D. and become a professor. I'm from a small town in the Okanagan Valley called Penticton, surrounded by beautiful beaches and mountains. My passions are music, languages, photography, writing and travel. In January, I am taking a semester away from university to travel Southeast Asia and Europe for six months with my best friend. I enjoy talking to real people, cooking good food, singing anything and everything, and being active in the great outdoors.
Cheers,
Beth