The Very Old Handsomest Drowned Man with Enormous Wings in the World

This week I read pieces by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. They were very similar. The first short story I read was "A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings". In this story a winged man appears near a family’s house. They put him in their chicken coop and basically make a profit off of him as if he were a carnival creature. There are suspicions that the man is an angel. In order to determine this however, Father Gonzaga must consult with the hierarchy of the church because they could not determine it themselves. Marquez criticizes the church in this way. Marquez says belief is clouded by what we think we should believe. Because the church determined the man not an angel, the villagers too agreed he was not. I believe there is strong possibility that the man was an angel. Because he didn’t speak Latin and he was tattered and torn he could not possibly be, according to the church. The divine is obscure and incomprehensible, therefore how can someone who is not divine determine what is or is not? You must have your own faith.

Similar too "A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings,” Marquez’s other short story, "The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World," a theme was faith, or belief. A dead body is rescued from the sea and the woman of a village fawn over it. They imagine how handsome he was, and how powerful he would have been. When it was time to bury the man, the women cried and were heartbroken. They treated him as a god. The fantasy of the most handsome man became this town’s reality. This is another example of magical realism. The had faith that this man was amazing.

The two stories show two different ways of greeting a stranger, and two different ways to treat the “divine.” On one hand you have the man with wings who was abused for being divine. The family that found him used him to create a fortune. On the other hand there is the handsome man who was greeted with welcome and awe. When the family found a “divine” figure, they definitely took advantage of him. When the villagers found the handsome man and claimed him divine, they celebrated him by creating his entire existence.

These two stories may share similar themes however they are very different. They were a lot lighter than the short stories I have read so far, but equally as unique.

The Works of Julio Cortazar

I have a new fascination, magical realism. I did not really know what this was before I came to class and read Julio Cortazar's short stories. Its a complicated way of writing, but for me I felt it was somewhat easy to understand. In the first piece I read, "The Continuity of Parks," I reread the story a couple times, not because I did not understand what was happening, but because I loved it. The way the story flows is just amazing. I felt almost like I was being tricked. The transition of one story to the second was unnoticeable until you realize the guy reading the book actually became the victim in the story he was reading. I shared this story with several people! I was just so astonished by the twists and turns Cortazar planted so slyly into the text that I could not wait to read the next piece.


Similar Costume

 "Our Demeanor at Wakes" was actually much more difficult for me to understand. The text was clear to me. A family of hypocrisy hating people take over funerals and turn them into their own gathering by out doing other mourners. What I did not understand why was I was snickering at the things these people were doing, the over exaggerated crying or the dismissal of the family from their loved one's funeral. It wasn't until class that I realized it was okay to be laughing. When taking a deeper look at the text I found that the hilarious things these crazy people were doing was actually their reality. When you focus on something and put your whole heart into it, it becomes real. In the text the sister stood at the end of the coffin weeping, thinking of her saddest memories she started the cry harder. As her tears became real she started bawling her eyes out. During the class discussion an example came to mind. My friend's cousin, who was five at the time, loved the Harry Potter movies and books. He always put on his Harry Potter school uniform that he wore for Halloween the previous year. He really thought he could be a wizard. His mother woke him up on his first day of kindergarten. Of course, he wanted to wear his Harry Potter school uniform. She tried to explain to him that he was going to a big boy school and he would have a lot of fun and make new friends. Michael refused to leave the house, he wanted to go to Hogwarts! He truly believed that was where he belonged. After a long fuss, her aunt allowed him to wear the wizard school uniform and they referred to kindergarten as "Hogwarts." This fantasy land became this little boy's reality. In Cortazar's piece, the family convinced themselves their mourning was reality. Michael and Cortazar have this in common, they fake it til they make it!
 The third piece I read by Cortazar was "Axolotl." I loved this piece. I loved the confusion! Am I the narrator who loves the Axolotl or am I an Axolotl? The pronoun use was always alternating but fascinating! The first time I read "our body" I had to reread! I agree with Professor Benander in saying the writing was a dreamy flow. I know there are many ways to read this piece. After reading through a couple times keeping different angles in mind, I like to think I am the Narrator writing from the Axolotl's view, hoping someone would write a story of the suffering, lonely, still life of the Axolotl.
Cortazar was beautiful to read. I never knew what I was getting into, but I always knew it was going to be quite a ride!

Huv Lopop

I had mixed feelings about reading Popol Vuh: the Dawn of Life created by the Mayans. I attempted to read the first two chapters before class as I had registered late and missed a day. It didn’t go so well. The paragraphing felt choppy and as I couldn’t pronounce some of the words it was hard for me to understand what was going on, especially with the hustle and bustle of the class settling in. I was definitely less than interested in the writing. I have been raised in a Catholic household and was not enthusiastic about reading another creation story. The one I had learned in Religion classes was dull enough! I listened as the class went on and it wasn’t until Professor Benander read the text in Mayan, how it should be read, that it sparked an interest to me. I have always had a love for ancient culture but never had I had an experience quite like that. Something spoke to me from that text, from that language, that just gave me chills. I went home and reread and finished reading Popol Vuh. I found it quite fascinating. I had a much better understanding. The creation of the Mayans was a trail and error for the gods. They had made many mistakes in creating the human race, the animals who could not talk, the mud people who melted, and the wooden people who were perhaps the biggest disappointment of all. One thing I can not seem to get out of my mind is that this had, as class has referred to it, a “Christian” lens over the text. I found it funny that a Christian man focused so deeply on the fact that the gods were imperfect. They could not seem to create humans, while the one, almighty Christian God merely had to say let there be life, and there was life. This was funny to me because it felt like he was trying to point out how imperfect these gods were, like highlighting their flaws. I have been trying to discover what exactly I believe as far as religion goes my entire life, and I’ve got to say the Popol Vuh won me over a great deal more that the bible (something I shall never mention to my mother.)  The fact that creation was not simple for the gods was something that I liked. It made it relatable. No matter who you are, mortal or god, you have to work for what you want! Also, I enjoyed the destruction of Vucub-Caquix much more than Santan’s dismissal in the Christian creation story. Popol Vuh was descriptive and a beautiful creation tale. I’m not saying I’m converting anytime soon but its definitely something I will never forget.