The book tells stories in a non-linear manner. It was almost as if I could pick any given chapter and rearrange the book. Then I realized that each anecdote is placed in that particular sequence because each one relates to other, similar to a chain. The last sentence of “El año perdido” introduces the next story by mentioning the things the protagonist sees and hears before he sleeps and the untitled second story picks it up by mentioning spirits. Perhaps it parallels to the ghosts that the protagonist of the first story hears. The second story mentions a glass of water and “Los niños no se aguantaron” pivots on the loss of water and life. The connections between them are very subtle and it is almost as if Rivera wants the readers to make these connections on their own.
Perhaps each character’s personal struggle relates to another’s or maybe their struggles affect each other in ways they do not realize. A few things are left ambiguous. It seems as if the things that are not mentioned are the most powerful ones. Some anecdotes remain untitled. The table of contents identifies them by the first few words of the opening sentence but they do not function like a real title. It seems like a conscious decision on Rivera’s part to also make these anecdotes shorter than the titled ones to distinguish its importance.
Many characters remain nameless almost like a blurred memory or the loss of something so basic. The first story preludes to it with the title pertaining to loss and the loss of words on the protagonist’s part. In a way, the book reflects the lack of precision when it comes to memory. Sometimes things are forgotten like the untitled story of the soldier’s mother on page 13. Her son “está perdido en acción.”
The book’s lack of chronology allows the readers to empathize with the characters. There were times when I felt confused because of the book’s lack of sequence and the unnamed characters. I was not sure who was doing what. Perhaps the migrants felt the same way, disoriented and insignificant.
Perhaps the lack of chronology also mimics something that adults find insignificant- the act of collecting. As young children, we collect various objects, such as rocks, shells, etc. to familiarize ourselves with the landscape. Similarly, the various stories function as a collection that help the readers identify the land seen through the migrant workers' children.
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3 comments:
The book is like a mosaic, kind of. If you look too closely you see only shards of different stories that seem quite unrelated, but when you stand back, you see it creates a coherent, harmonious image. This is what Rivera is doing, highlighting the fact that people's experiences in this time and place are all different, but also all intricately related. Together, his little chapters and stories create a clear image of what he wants us to see, the difficulty and suffering, the exploitation and sort of "Far West" chaos that governs the everyday lives of the Mexican labourers. If we can leap out of our concept of linear time, chronology becomes less relevant and that is part of art: taking life out of its context. I liked your post.
Nicole,
I think your post was very insightful, many of your points had never occurred to me before. What you said in your last paragraph about collecting may or may not be an effect River was trying to point out. His intentions though, I believe, are immaterial in reading the book, and I think it was a sharply observed point. The boy spends his year collecting, and losing, many things important to his life. Where he loses family and friends, he collects a wealth of experiences that create him.
Indeed, Rivera allows us to interpret his somewhat vague stylings in whatever fashion we feel most inclined towards. It doesn't convey the typical "Once upon a time" mode, which is refreshing, and I agree, his narration through the eyes of the child allows for a surreal experience, blurry, yet reminiscent of childhood.
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