Entry Sixteen: Márquez

"The Handsomest Drowned Man In The World"
Gabriel García Márquez (1968)

"...they were going to paint their house fronts gay colors to make Esteban's memory eternal and they were going to break their backs digging for springs among the stones and planting flowers on the cliffs so that in the future years at dawn the passengers on great liners would awaken, suffocated by
the smell of gardens on the high seas... look there, where the wind is so peaceful now that it's gone to sleep beneath the beds, over there, where the sun's so bright that the sunflowers don't know which way to turn, yes, over there, that's Esteban's village."

When I saw the title of this story on the syllabus, I was, if nothing else, hopelessly confused. The mental image I have of a man who’s been drowned is nothing short of horrifying – and for an author to choose handsome, out of the plethora of other possible adjectives available, it definitely captured my interest. And after reading this short story twice, I’m equally enthralled, as I am confused.

Also, I’ve been inclined to actually use my relatively expansive vocabulary.
But that might not be directly influenced by this short story.

Anyway.

I did my best to focus on setting at the beginning, since that’s the main focus of our final unit. It was interesting to me that this entire interaction takes place with, really, a handful of people in a very isolated place. The population of this village very much plays into the small-town stereotype; they’re hesitant of things that are apparently new to them, or of strangers entering their lives. In the case of this drowned man, however, they are initially very unforgiving upon his arrival – children are playing with his corpse on the beach.

 When he’s laid out for the women to care for him, it’s when they first start to show him some kindness. They realize, once he’s cleaned and presentable, that this stranger is handsome – he’s built like a lumberjack, more or less, and is very much an enigma. What amazed me about this is how quickly these women changed, and how they are willing to adopt this “orphaned” man, taking care of him and very quickly loving him like a family would. It shows the kindness people are capable of, especially in someone’s last moments.

I very much see this story as a parable to people, of people – it shows that in the darkest of times, there is a time and place for good. The people of this village are given a very unhappy task, and at first they face it as such. But after further thought, the women remembering that this man was, in fact, a man – he had troubles like anyone else, a life and struggles and connections like everyone else.

This is why, I believe, they show him tenderness; they decorate his body, they put forth so much effort for this man’s burial. In the end, this town takes Esteban as their own and gives him the last rites that anyone else would expect.

This fictional town is an example to the masses, a showing of how genuine kindness is something very much achievable.

Entry Fifteen: Jin

"Saboteur"
Ha Jin (1996)

"A swoon swayed Mr. Chiu, and he held the arms of the chair to steady himself. A numb pain stung him in the upper stomach and nauseated him, and his head was throbbing. He was sure that the
hepatitis was finally attacking him. Anger was flaming up in his chest, his throat was tight and clogged."

Saboteur has joined the stories-that-blew-my-mind list, and in ways I wasn’t even aware would do such a thing. To be honest, I wasn’t sure of what to think when I read the title or the first page; they both seemed pretty ordinary. The story kept that kind of feeling throughout, even though the actions and words made an amazing impact as events culminated.

Since this unit is about setting, I feel that it’s pretty important to mention it here, even though I had a rough time figuring out what that happened to be. At first, I thought it might be a Communist China, but with the reactions the Interrogation Bureau officers had to Chiu stating he was a member of the Communist party, I had to second guess that assumption. Even so, the strict policing and attitude in which Mr. Chiu was being treated, it felt very much like this was some sort of Utilitarian or Totalitarian government – something which Mr. Chiu was very well educated in.

In addition, the time in which this story takes place evaded me as well. There was no direct line that gave away the actual time in history – it could very well have taken place in the same time of Communist China, or perhaps in our distant future. Either lend themselves to what’s been said in the text, and as a whole, I don’t think it matters quite as much at the physical setting.

Something else that struck me was Mr. Chiu’s case of hepatitis. It was mentioned at first as nothing more than a character detail – it didn’t have any significance at the time, but it comes into play much later. It’s something not everyone talks about, and I had to do a bit of research to really understand what it was. With that new information in mind, I had a new appreciation for this medical issue.

For Mr. Chiu, this hepatitis seemed like an inward manifestation and symbol for the savage inside him. It stood for the crude and uncivilized person he had dwelling in the darker corners of his psyche, similarly to everyone else around him. The guards at this detention center let their darker sides show more often, and being in their presence sparked the change in Mr. Chiu. With the unruliness around him, Mr. Chiu was free to let his temper go, and in the end this orderly professor lost himself to anger.

Which is why, after his release, there’s a further spread of this anger, which drove people to do things they never intended to do – it changed people.

Entry Fourteen: O'Connor

"Everything That Rises Must Converge"
Flannery O'Connor (1965)

"The further irony of all this was that in spite of her, he had turned out so well. In spite of going to only a third-rate school, he had, on his own initiative, come out with a first-rate education; in spite of growing up dominated by a small mind, he had ended up with a large one; in spite of all her foolish views, he was free of prejudice and unafraid to face fats. More miraculous of all, instead of being blinded by love for her as she was to him, he had cut himself emotionally free of her and could see
her with complete objectivity. He was not dominated by his mother."

Every time I read a new story for this class, I feel like my outlooks on life have to change; each piece holds a nugget of truth in regards to our universe as a whole, and it kind of makes my mind explode. And this, like the others, now holds quite the spot in my heart. It might even make my literary favorites list.

The thing about “Everything That Rises Must Converge” is that it all seems very modern, even though it’s set almost fifty years in the past. Julian is very much a modern man, both in his own time and, I believe, ours as well. He’s very much independent, and believes himself to be free of his emotions, which is debatable, by far. But regardless, I find his story to be a coming-of-age one, which many readers could identify with. He’s a young man who’s shaped himself into a intellectual, even though he came from a very closed-minded family. He broke the mold and, in essence, changed himself from what his family might’ve wanted for him.

I also find his mother an interesting character, mostly because she seems to contradict herself, in regards to her beliefs. To be blunt, she is racist, in the extent that she doesn’t believe in equal opportunities for African Americans. But she shows black children kindness – she’s quoted to find them “cute”, even though she finds their mothers and fathers to be unappealing and, to be crude, unequal and perhaps savage. She won’t ride on the bus alone, the fear of a “negro” too strong for her to get over.

This story can easily have a modern application, mostly in how Julian treats his mother, as well as how he feels about her. Even though he doesn’t agree with her morals, and by many respects he does everything possible to shut them down and make her uncomfortable. By doing so, Julian also pushes aside his own feelings – in the end, he acts as if he doesn’t love his mother. In the passage above, he says that he views her with “complete objectivity” – even with all of this being true, he acts out with his emotions. Julian does whatever he can to put his mother on edge, he finds a sense of pleasure in doing so. He, like his mother, contradicts his own beliefs at times.

These two people, emotionally connected and in ways very similar, find their downfall in their emotions. For Julian’s mother, it’s the harsh reality that her beliefs are wrong, and she needs to change – the stress of this, as well as her son’s harsh words, sends her to her possible death. Julian, on the other hand, is shown the reality of his actions and unkind treatment of his mother – he loses her.

Entry Thirteen: Mark Gill

"The Voorman Problem"
Mark Gill (2014)

I’d like to start with saying that any opportunity I can get to see Martin Freeman acting is an exceedingly good opportunity. So seeing his name on the cast list for this short film immediately got

me excited. As well as Tom Hollander, who is someone you don’t see enough of in film.

Regardless of me and my embarrassing fan-girling, I found this short film striking and very interesting. At first, I wasn’t entirely sure what to be expecting, mostly because of the rather dull introduction. The first scene, Doctor Williams with the warden, didn’t grab my attention much at all, especially with the stereotypical “warden-who-doesn’t-care-about-his-inmates” kind of character. But as a whole, I’m entirely okay with that performance, since the rest of the film was well worth the three dollars I paid for it.

In particular, I found myself enraptured with the last scene between Williams and Voorman. In the first scene between these two, Voorman appeared as much more engaging and interested in Williams – they were, perhaps, on even playing fields, or at least Voorman acted as such. In the following scene, it’s quite the opposite. Voorman has a much more foreboding tone and attitude; there’s something about his behavior that reminds me very much of Q from Star Trek: The Next Generation. Q is a member of an omnipotent species, who in many ways can act how people would see a god – he makes things appear, disappear, can manipulate matter and time and shoot starships thousands of light years in a different direction.

In the second scene, Voorman himself uses the term “omnipotent”, and I see that as the defining moment of his character. Never had he denied his apparent abilities, but at the same time, he wasn’t as aloof about his godly status as he was in the second scene.

The moment where Voorman and Williams shift places, I couldn’t help but wonder if these were the positions that these characters were in all along. A part of me, throughout this film, was curious if Williams was the more “insane” of the two, and he had imagined he’d met god. Perhaps it’s just because of the kind of story this is, but I had the lurking suspicious that a paradigm shift was just waiting to happen, but it didn’t. I could very well blame my science fiction tendencies for that, wanting the big reveal of “everything is a lie”, since that’s always fun. But in the case of “The Voorman Problem”, I can’t help but wonder just how much more there was to the story that didn’t quite make it to the screen.

Entry Twelve: Parrish Revisited

Tom Parrish
“Bonnie Ledet”

 “ “No, man. Bonnie put rubbing alcohol in his coffee. Fucked him up.” “Is he gonna die?” “Nah, He’s too mean to die.” … Blane sipped his coffee and stared at the wall like he hadn’t heard Roland. He lit a cigarette, but it was already halfway burned in the ashtray and he hadn’t touched it. “Why’d

she go to the hospital with him?” I asked. Blane looked at me from the corner of his eye as though I’d asked the most ridiculous question. “Cause he’s our daddy,” he said.”

I have to say that I wasn’t enthralled with the two pieces we read of Parrish’s for class, and in a strange way I’m pleased that I was able to read this additional story of his. With this piece, I found a much more deep connection with it, for one reason or another. With Bonnie Ledet, I had a significantly more intimate relationship with these characters, and I found myself caring about them much more than those from It Pours or Complicity.

This connection, I believe, has something to do with the characters introduced in this story to begin with. Our narrator, Jeb, has gone through a significant trauma for his young age, and it’s made apparent right away. It’s used as a ploy for sympathy, but I found it to be significantly more than that throughout the story. He’s a character with an emotional depth that would be surprising for his age, until we learn more about Roland, Blane, and Bonnie.

Something else I really latched onto was Bonnie’s character. Her struggle is something I very much can sympathize with, but in different ways than she’s portrayed as going through. We both have lost our mothers, and with this fact there was significantly more responsibility placed on us as a young age. I was very fortunate to not go through the emotional and physical abuses that she had to suffer, but I do share the emotional weight of a loss. It’s something very impacting, and difficult to write without misrepresenting – something Parrish has written quite well.

As a whole, I do believe that this was the most impactful and emotionally riveting of the stories I’ve been able to read of Parrish’s.  Jeb has a continuous struggle throughout this story; a game of balance with how far he should go with Bonnie, which is something incredibly relatable to anyone who’s pursued someone else as a romantic partner. In addition, he’s struggling to cope with the chronic illness his mothers has – he knows that he should be a proper son, to take care of her and do his best not to stress her. It’s a kind of struggle that’s relatable to the majority of readers, which is why I think I enjoyed reading this story as much as I did.

Bonnie Ledet is a social example; it’s something that easily translated to our modern day. It shows how far some people are willing to go for someone they care about. It showcases the immersion of someone into a culture that isn’t their own, and the confusion that can home from it.

_____________

Bonnie Ledet shares some similarities with Complicity as well as It Pours, and as I said before, I think it excels in the places these two stories faltered. One of the biggest things I noticed was the integration of issues from both It Pours and Complicity were featured in this story – the domestic violence and unsettled household from Complicity, and the drastic power disconnect of mother and father in It Pours.

In Pours, the narrator’s family is portrayed to be a very patriarchal one; we hear mostly from his father, the PTSD-ridden man and his struggle to cope with his mental illness. In that story, the mother plays a very minor role, and as readers, we don’t learn nearly as much about her as we do the other characters. In the case of Bonnie, it’s quite the opposite; Jeb’s father is mentioned once or twice, while his mother is an integral character in regards to Jeb’s development as well as the plot. Both of these stories, however, portray an atypical and uncomfortable family situation for their narrator.

In addition, all three of these stories showcase different cultures, and how the narrator observes them and relates to them. In It Pours, the narrator’s neighbors are Cuba – for Jeb, Bonnie and her family are Cajun. This kind of diversity is a common theme, and it’s something I’ve come to enjoy. It adds a variety to characters that a lot of others stories are missing.