Sunday, April 11, 2010

Final post

Thinking about this semester-long class, one thing stands out in my mind: Until this class, I’ve never taken a course that centers on a literary genre where the genre itself wasn’t defined point-blank on the first day. At first, this seemed to be pretty frustrating and confusing, because I wasn’t really sure what I was looking for, what was important, etc. However, I think that in the end, it turned out to be a productive way to truly learn how to define a specific genre. Rather than memorizing a definition, it was something that I had to learn through my own reading experience with the help of guided lecture. In this way, I also feel confident that I’d be able to explain this genre* better because I had to fill in the blanks through my own experience.

As a point of criticism (which I think I may have mentioned in a previous blog entry), I think that this self-taught definition could be enhanced and refined through the addition of more texts that are truly considered to be magical realist texts. Now, I’m not suggesting that we should be reading more on top of what we already were assigned, but I think that maybe one of the texts which covers the build up to the magical realism could be replaced with short stories that fit in the genre. At the very least, it might be helpful to provide additional suggested texts that students can refer to if they still feel like they don’t fully understand what “magical realism” means/consists of [Side note: I lost the syllabus, so ignore the previous statement if these additional texts were included on that].

*Coming back to the idea of explaining the genre, something else that I never stopped to think about is that genres cannot be explained as something cut and dry. With magical realism, it is particularly easy to see, but even other movements that are considered to be pretty black-and-white cannot be so easily contained. Angel Flores points this out in one of the first articles written on magical realism in Latin American literature. He states that many literary critics attempt to classify novels and literary works in only one category, such as “romantic” or “naturalist,” not always taking into account that many works fall into multiple categories. In this way, Flores arrives at the idea that magical realism is, in itself a genre that depends on a balance of two “separate” genres.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Looking at Leyendas, ERDM, and CADS all at once...

When I consider the three novels that we’ve read for this class so far, I think of using a scale to find a balance. In Leyendas de Guatemala, the reader encounters an incredibly fantastic setting that seems to exist more as a feeling or vibe than a tangible world. Using constant references to nature and mythology, Asturias creates a dreamlike world that hardly seems to be weighed down by any explicit reference to fact or history. A sense of timelessness is created through the various chapters of the text which examine Guatemala from different perspectives and storylines, giving the reader a bigger idea of what Guatemala really is and has been as a result of its ancient roots. Interestingly enough, it is meant to be considered an anthropological work. As a student of anthropology, I really tried to think about what this means and how Leyendas is meant to be interpreted. I’d consider it a form of an ‘alternative’ ethnography, because rather than looking at a cultural other based on observations, the anthropologist is almost fully taken out of the picture and the reader is presented with a view of Guatemala for what it is according to its mythology, nature, and geography. This makes it hard to break Leyendas down into set, bullet-point ideas, but instead provides an experience that is hard to be accurately articulated. Out of the three novels, I would say that this text was the hardest to pin down. In terms of finding a balance, Leyendas falls under the fantastic extreme; it lacks the sense of reality to weigh it down and to make it seem truly believable.

El reino de este mundo, on the other hand, swings towards the opposite extreme: lo real. Although magical elements are exposed through the practices and beliefs of the African descendants in Haiti, there is a seemingly clearer focus on the history of the Haitian revolution and an emphasis on the different perspectives through which we can view history. This emphasis on perspective was one of the most outstanding themes that I pulled from this book; it made me reconsider what truth is. I found myself asking more questions about what truth is, where it comes from, and how the writers of histories that we find in textbooks are really only presenting us with one perspective that is assumed by many to be THE truth. I felt that this novel was much more cut-and-dry by the way in which the magic was assigned to a particular perspective rather than an accepted truth by all parts. I also think that the element of time being portrayed as linear and definite made the novel more realistic.

Cien años de soledad not only finds the balance on the scales between lo real and lo maravilloso, but uses these elements in relation to one another and to a fuller potential. Through the use of 'tiempo circular', GGM creates multiple layers of the same story line occurring at once. This in itself creates a 'magical' feel to it, although it truly is just an unconventional way to portray a series of events. On top of this, he mixes bits of magic into the writing as if it is a part of the everyday world. The characters don't react but subconsciously accept these fantastic happenings to be the norm; similarly, I think that this fantastic normalcy becomes ingrained in the reader as well.

I don't know if I personally can say that GGM demonstrates a mastery of what really is magical realism. Generally, I think it's important to note that by many standards, GGM was the one who created the blueprint for the genre of magical realism... so maybe I'm arguing a futile point. However, I've only read one novel that is considered as a part of the literary movement, so I have yet to have the chance to see the trend in a series of works that are considered a part of magical realism. I think that the novels that we read before CADS did a good job at demonstrating how literature evolved to arrive at the creation of magical realism. But in the end, I wish we had a little bit more to base our understanding of magical realism on.

Sunday, March 21, 2010


In the final segment of CADS, it was nearly impossible to avoid the idea of regression and repetition. It becomes a theme that is more and more prominent as the book progresses. After the massacre of the 3,000 plantation workers, José Arcadio Segundo retreats to his own solitude in Melquiades’s room, just as Colonel Aureliano Buendía did after his experiences in the war. The Buendía house as well as the rest of Macondo is ruined by the rain, bringing them back to square one in some respects:

Macondo estaba en ruinas. En los pantanos de los calles quedaban muebles despedazados, esqueletos de animales cubiertos de lirios colorados, ultimo’s recuerdos de las hordas de advenedizos que se fugaron de Macondo tan atolondradamente como habían llegado…La región encantada que exploró José Arcadio Buendía en los tiempos de la fundación, y donde luego prosperaron las plantaciones de banano, era un tremedal de cepas putrefactas, en cuyo horizonte remoto se alcanzó a ver por varios años la espuma silenciosa del mar (450).

The death of Ursula is portrayed to be a regression biologically, first, in the way that she slowly loses her mind and awareness and secondly in her physical appearance which is likened to that of a fetus:

Poco a poco se fue reduciendo, fetizándose, momificándose en vida, hasta el punto de que en sus últimos meses era una ciruela pasa perdida dentro del camisón, y el brazo siempre alzado terminó por parecer la pata de una marimonda (463).

Rebeca is described similarly upon her death: bald, looking shrimp-like. Not long thereafter, Aureliano Segundo and José Arcadio Segundo pass away, and are confused once again as they were at birth when the family places one’s body in the other’s grave.

GGM brings out an obvious feeling of repetition that fades into digression as the family repeats and recycles the same fate and the remaining members die or separate from the family. With the return of José Arcadio and Amaranta Úrsula to Macondo, a false sense of hope is brought to the surface and quickly put out by the repetition of the same acts/desires/interests as their ancestors. It is interesting, because as the return of José Arcadio is described and he resumes his everyday life again in Macondo, the echoes of all of the Buendía family are reflected in all of his actions (see p. 492-494), from the room that he chooses to stay in to the way that he bathes, etc. This idea is perpetuated constantly throughout the rest of the book up until the death of Amaranta Úrsula and their child with the pig’s tail (as promised and well-anticipated) all the way to the final words of CADS which mirror themselves and fold the story inside out to close the circuit of the Buendía family (and all of humanity?).

Overall, I’m feeling a lack for words; not to sound like an idiot, but I feel like I can't really say anything that will do justice in an analysis of this novel. It is beyond was so impressive and so exhausting. GGM kept and twisting the story until it is impossible to tell the end from the start in some respects. It has somewhat of a funnel effect, where the story slowly starts winding in a circle and continues to progress (and digress) faster and faster until everything seems to be in some sort of a moving standstill. I’m thinking after another read or two I’ll have a deeper appreciation for it, and a much better understanding and awareness for GGM’s creation and intention meant to be derived from CADS.

Monday, March 15, 2010

In the third segment of CADS, I was particularly drawn to two main things:

The arrival of the railroad to Macondo

With the introduction of the railroad, the people of Macondo are introduced to modernity: the movies, the phonograph, the telephone. And most (if not all of these things) are met with distaste and confusion. Interestingly enough, along with these introductions comes the first American, Mr. Herbert. His entrance is proceeded by the following quote:

En un pueblo escaldado por el escarmiento de los gitanos no había un buen porvenir para aquellos equilibristas del comercio ambulante que con igual desparpajo ofrecían una olla pitadora que un régimen de vida para la salvación del alma al séptimo día, pero entre los que se dejaban convencer por cansancio y los incautos de siempre, obtenían estupendos beneficios. (337)

It encompasses a distinct and obviously negative attitude towards Americans in Latin America that is humorously supported through the examination of the banana and later descriptions of the boisterous establishment made by them in Macondo.

The chapter which begins from the perspective of Úrsula as she prepares to send off José Arcadio to the seminary.

As she reflects on time and specific members of her family as an old woman, I think that there is a relationship between solitude and a specific condition/habit/fate that a person is born with/destined to have that leads to their solitude. As a result of being born with/destined to have this condition, I think it could be cracked up to be like original sin. For example, if we examine Coronel Aureliano Buendía, Úrsula says that he’s “un hombre incapacitado para el amor,” something that she sensed from the womb:

Una noche, cuando lo tenía en el vientre, lo oyó llorar…Ella (Úrsula), en cambio, se estremeció con la certidumbre de que aquel bramido profundo era un primer indicio de la temible cola de cerdo… (363)

This being his original sin or flawed condition ends up being his source of solitude. Continuing on in the chapter, I question solitude to be something that is suggested to be a part of the human condition – something that marks our lives to the extent that it separates and alienates us from others. For example, Remedios the Beauty’s beauty, Aureliano Segundo’s gluttonous lifestyle, or Úrsula’s conformity to the ways of the others around her (366). It is not initially what I would have considered solitude based on my previous idea of it, but more of what makes us unreachable for those around us.

And one other (big?) thought:

This book is formulated by different perspectives. Is this in an attempt to create one giant perspective? What does this mean in relation to the truth? Can truth be derived from a style like this?

Sunday, March 7, 2010

A whole new perspective on time

After the second segment of Cien años de soledad, I am starting to see why some may consider this book to be literally magical. García Márquez stretches the act of writing beyond descriptive means, using the element of time and changing the typical role of narration (which until now, I took for granted and only really considered from one approach) to create a dynamic structure in the novel that transforms the Buendía family into a representation of an entire society. For example, I started to feel like I needed to re-read pages quite frequently as I got about ¾ of the way through the second segment. At first, I thought it was because I was tired, but upon reexamining the text, I realized that it really is pretty damn sneaky. García Márquez gives the characters all very similar names, whether it be that they are literally the same or else that they start with the same letters. Many times, these characters with similar names might also share a similar fate, making the reader start to question who is who and how/if the characters really are two separate people.

It has been an adjustment to figure out how to approach Cien años de soledad; in my opinion, García Márquez completely redefines the saying, “And the plot thickens…” The novel is a complete work that cannot be separated, but rather, should be viewed as a whole, a process that begins with a family and a somewhat simple storyline that thickens and expands and tangles in itself as the generations of the José Arcadio Buendía family spread out and cross over themselves. This lineage creates a bit of a mind trip as individuals perpetuate the same acts as their fathers/ mothers/ sisters/ brothers etc. Time seems to be progressing but repeating itself simultaneously; García Márquez creates a vacuum in which the same story is retold over and over, both literally (through the narration of events that occur simultaneously, but are explained from different perspectives separately) and by the repetitive action of the Buendía family themselves. It is a motivating read, but exhausting at the same time, and almost impossible to reiterate. It would probably take another three or four reviews of the novel in order for me to even begin to explain what is going on. But from that standpoint, I feel like the actual events in the novel aren’t the main focus, but rather the sensation of time that García Márquez evokes and what this says about a particular society.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Cien años de soledad thus far seems to be a novel of great proportion (as I would expect if it’s being leveled with the book of Genesis), with a very intricate story line explaining the town of Macondo through the descendants of José Arcadio Buendía and Úrsula Iguarán. I have to say, I’m a bit nervous to say that I think I’m following what’s going on, but I’ll quickly add that it’s probably only surface material. Through the lineage of José Arcadio Buendía, we begin to see the interactions of the Spanish settlers and the gypsies, along with the native people of South America that cross paths in Macondo. I’m guessing that through these stories, García Márquez symbolically explains historical relationships between different groups of people and the evolution of the land in relationship with the Spanish settlers. There are traces of historical information in the story, such as the exploration of new territories and the importance of new technologies, but I am interested to know if there’s a reason that these essential advances are attributed to the gypsies. More importantly, I’d like to understand the symbolism behind Melquíades, who seems to be a staple and a guiding source within the text. Up to the point that I’ve gotten (a little over halfway), I also feel some sort of symbolism in regards to the characters of the two sons, José Arcadio and Aureliano. It made me think a bit about the prodigal sons, a story from the Bible, but I may be going out on a limb there. Actually, overall I feel that by the way that García Márquez describes the individual characters with their contradicting personalities, it creates a tension and a drive in the story. The story is moving along, but truthfully, it isn’t a typical cliff-hanging/page-turner plotline (yet?). Another initial reaction to add and that I’m intrigued to discover as I continue the book is how exactly the story changes from maintaining a pre-colonial, untamed vibe that I gather from Macondo and the José Arcadio Buendía family in which the family literally discovers ice and magic carpets at traveling circuses that pass through town to the most certain death of Aureliano facing a firing squad (which curiously evokes a feeling of much more modern and real history). In this way, and so far through the writing style as well, I feel that Cien años de soledad manages to balance the tipped scales between Leyendas de Guatemala and El reino de este mundo in the sense that it has the fantastic/magical on the same plane with the historical in a much more blended fashion. I’m not quite sure yet how to elaborate on that, but I’ll hopefully be able to add more in a future update.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

A quick glimpse at magical realism so far...

Hesitancy in accepting the reality of events is the very reaction that fantastic literature, including magical realism, induces in its readers, who always act as secondary witnesses of sorts. This response should not be understood so much as an unwillingness to acknowledge the “poetic singularity” of the event, but as a readiness to keep an open mind toward several—often even contradictory—ways of perceiving and understanding.
--From “Writing the Vanishing Real: Hyperreality and Magical Realism” by Eugene L. Arva

For one thing, this annotated bibliography has also helped to clear up the idea of what exactly IS magical realism. It has helped me to take this big idea and contain it. This particular quote that I found while reading summed up how I felt when I was reading Leyendas. And I can say that I definitely felt that there wasn’t one single way at approaching the book, and more than anything maybe all I needed to do was to relax and adjust to being unsure of how to interpret the text. I highly recommend Arva’s article, too, especially if you’re feeling like you need a different approach towards the concept of magical realism. For example, I found it really interesting in the way that Arva used Guy Debord’s The Society of the Spectacle to help to explain magical realism. It also really gave me a better understanding of the purpose and the advantages of the use of magical realism in literature as a means of representing reality.

Another thing I’d like to add that I found very helpful, was the distinction between lo real maravilloso and realismo mágico. As a note, I feel that it’s pretty obvious after having read Carpentier’s preface to El Reino de este Mundo, however this article put it plain and simple:

…realismo mágico has a more universal connotation while Carpentier's lo real maravilloso is more criollista in the sense that it is magical realism that pertains solely to America.
-- From “Realismo Magico: True Realism with a Pinch of Magic” by Lee A. Daniel

So as skeptical as I was of this class in the beginning, I think that this Wikipedia project is filling in any existing gaps that I had (or that I felt that I had) with the readings. The research component paired with the examination of magical realist works first hand is shaping up to provide a very comprehensive coverage of the topic of literary magical realism in Latin America.

Monday, February 1, 2010

El Reino de este Mundo, round two

El Reino de Este Mundo turned out to be pretty good, I’d say.

Firstly, I didn’t foresee the events of the novel to progress as they did (from bad to worse), which kept me reading to see how the groups would balance out (what I expected to happen). This expectation was greatly based on the negative attitudes expressed towards the Europeans in the early parts of the novel; so, when a black dictator more malicious than the white colonists comes into power, the scale of “whites versus blacks” are completely thrown off as was my original prediction. I was expecting the novel to follow the “whites versus blacks” blueprint, but as we learn in the end of the novel, the message goes beyond race.

…el hombre nunca sabe para quién padece y espera. Padece y espera y trabaja para gentes que nunca concerá, y que a su vez padecerán y esperarán y trabajarán para otros que tampoco serán felices, pues el hombre ansía siempre una felicidad situada más allá de la porción que le es otorgada. Pero la grandeza del hombre está precisamente en querer mejorar lo que es.

To clarify (I feel that this part is essential because its basically the culmination of the novel, so please correct me if I’m wrong), Carpentier continues to say that in el Reino de los Cielos, greatness is not something that can be conquered or needs to be conquered because existence in el Reino de los Cielos is infinite and, more or less, perfect, with a sense of hierarchy already set in place. But in el Reino de este Mundo, the best a man can do for himself is to seek greatness to rise above struggle. (?)

Overall, after finishing the novel, I have thought many times at how successful the use of the character Ti Noel was in telling the story of the Haitian Revolution, staying true to the historical facts of the story, but also using his perspective as a slave to bring another dimension of reality to eye-level with the reality of the white colonist/ European. I think that this is why Carpentier’s explanation was much more easy to understand and interpret (than Asturias’s incorporation of magical realism in Leyendas de Guatemala – yes, I know that lo real maravilloso and magical realism are two different animals); he presents both perspectives at the same time, rather than only presenting one. In Asturias´s Leyendas de Guatemala, I think I was taking my own “European” point of view for granted and forgetting to take that into account. Thoughts?

Monday, January 25, 2010

And magical realism suddenly seems more appealing...

My first impression of El Reino de Este Mundo took root in the prologue, in which Alejo Carpentier lays the groundwork for the novel. I will say, after my confusion with Leyendas, I feel that I owe him a thanks. In a few short pages, Carpentier takes the reader through an explanation of ‘lo real maravilloso,’ and how it was created and changed over time through the different works of artists and writers. In particular, I liked his opinion regarding ‘lo real maravilloso’ in reference to the Americas in comparison with Europe. It starts:

Pero pensaba, además que esa presencia y vigencia de lo real maravilloso no era privilegio único de Haití, sino patrimonio de la América entera, donde todavía no se ha terminado de establecer, por ejemplo, un recuento de cosmogonías.

Then he continues with this idea for another page and a half until he comes to one key idea that I turned over while reading:

Y es que, por la virginidad del paisaje, por la formación, por la ontología, por la presencia fáustica del indio y del negro, por la Revolución que constituyó su reciente descubrimiento, por los fecundos mestizajes que propició, América está muy lejos de haber agotado su caudal de mitologías…

…todo resulta maravilloso en una historia imposible de situar en Europa…

If I think about El Reino de Este Mundo alongside Leyendas de Guatemala, it is clear to see the use of the exoticized non-European in order to create a sense of magic in these novels. In the case of Alejo Carpentier, the magical element in the novel is still attributed to the voodoo magic of the Haitian people, but is presented in a much more real way than I felt that it was in the case of Leyendas. From what I’ve quickly gathered from other sources, El Reino de Este Mundo tells the story of the Haitian Revolution, which I really don’t know anything about to be quite honest. This is where I could see the magic realism coming in: how are events portrayed? In particular, because the novel is told from the standpoint of Ti Noel, a slave and believer in voodoo magic, how does that affect the standpoint from which how things unfolded and what was the cause? In the prologue, Carpentier specifically says:

…el relato que va a leers ha sido establecido sobre una documentación extremadamente rigurosa que no solamente respeta la verdad histórica de los acontecimientos…sino que oculta, bajo su aparente intemporalidad un minucioso cotejo de fechas y de cronologías.

So I guess that statement leads me to question if in this story, reality and magic can be separated? Like I said, I’d like to know more about the history of Alejo Carpentier and his experience in Haiti, because I think it might uncover a bit of where he’s coming from.

As a quick side note: I am also intrigued by the quotes that start off the prologue and the parts of the book. I feel that Carpentier really tried to get some strong ideas in regards to the colonization of the Americas across, and specifically in the opening quote in part one by Lope de Vega, he did a great job of getting these ideas across. Once again, he gives us another frame through which we can read this interpretation of the Haitian Revolution. Personally, I really appreciate these additional quotes that he provides because I feel that he narrows the scope and lets his readers know more specifically what he's getting at.

Monday, January 18, 2010


Well I hate to say that once again I feel like this entry (as with the last) probably will leave more questions than provide answers. Hopefully you all may be able to help me out a bit. The second half of Leyendas de Guatemala proved to be a little less dense than the previous part, which was both disappointing and relieving; imagery in the previous part is much more evident. In the second half, the element of dialogue truly carries the plot along making for a clearer read but leaves less to the reader’s imagination. Although there are passages that I found to be very descriptive within the dialogue*, there were far less of them. I also felt as if I had more to decode in terms of what the symbolism means according to Mayan legends (I wish the index at the back was a bit more lengthy, seriously), which if anyone has some knowledge on the subject I’d be very interested to hear your commentary. I get the colors and the palace in the sky, but I’d really like to know more about the characters, significance of corn as teeth, the eyes of hummingbirds, etc.

On the flipside, the first half seemed as if it was just as much up to the reader to determine the images and sensations that Asturias creates, which is my own opinion that I could be completely wrong about, but I appreciate a bit of room for creative interpretation/reading. As confusing as it may have been a week ago, I found myself a bit bummed that I didn’t feel the dreamlike vibe this time around.

The dialogue makes the novel seem much more mythical and structured. Clearly, the myths set out to explain elements of nature and points to Mayan beliefs about natural processes, such as the sun’s trajectory across the sky, which played an essential role to this part of the text. These ideas were greatly developed with the use of color; what I really liked was how these colors were constantly brought up throughout the text, even in the most subtle ways, for example based on the different kinds of precious gems and clothing Cuculcán was dressed in. What I really kept coming back to, though, was wondering where all of these ideas stemmed from and what the Mayan ideas and attitudes were towards two main things: women and afternoon (el tiempo de la Cortina Roja). Now, forgive me if I completely missed a detail that would explain this, but firstly, the women seem to be portrayed to be a bit worthless considering the explanation of their relationship to Cuculcán and the fact that they are swallowed up by a lake and sucked to the depths past the mirror of life where they are never to be seen again after taking care of the sun god all night. Did attitudes towards women follow suit, were they secondary in society? Granted, I know Cuculcán was a god, but was there a difference in human sacrifice between women and men? Secondly, was the afternoon associated with wartime or a time of battle? I don’t know if that has to do only with this myth in particular, but I was just curious because I felt that suggestions of “warlike behavior”—for lack of a better expression—were very prevalent at this time of day. I’m thinking I’ll go back over the reading again and see what I can pull out. There may be more to read a bit later this week if I can come up with anything…

As a side note, I did like how Guacamayo was developed. I was pretty amused by this trickster with his drunken, irritable feather-fluttering and strange ‘cuác acuác cúac’s. Anyone else find it interesting to read the way different animal noises in Spanish are pronounced and how different they are from English? Call me a dork, but I found this really amusing when I was in Spain last year.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

So up to this point, Leyendas de Guatemala has proven itself to be quite dense, but still engaging as long as you have a (lots of) cup(s) of coffee and some time to split up the reading. The language Asturias uses in “Guatemala” introduces a style that creates a strong mystical sense of people and places that are seemingly captured in a timeless sequence of events lacking obvious order. Rather than providing a clear framework for the novel, the reader is provided with little traces of a storyline and is challenged to make sense of endless imagery in order to fashion the text into one form.

In this way, Leyendas de Guatemala is unlike any novel or collection of stories that I have read before; I felt that I walked away with a strong impression created through many unlikely sensorial comparisons in the text that are almost impossible to explain completely without some sort of reiteration. Unlike the majority of novels that I’ve encountered, thus far Leyendas de Guatemala did not provide me with something as simple as a storyline as I was expecting to gather. Instead, Asturias seems to carefully present these legends on a completely different plane. I was surprised and confused with endless descriptions that so perfectly capture a wide range of sensations told by way of surely tangible images of nature that are strung together on the skeleton of legends. For this reason, I think to take on half of the novel at once is definitely a sensory overload, leaving little time to really appreciate and understand these images that make up the backbone of Leyendas de Guatemala.

One of the elements of the legends so far that really interests me is the relationship between the pre-colonial and post-colonial within the text. At first, I felt as if there was not a distinct sense of time in the early parts of “Guatemala” as Asturias describes the different cities and practices (note: if one has a deeper understanding and knowledge of Mayan culture it may be a different story, but I’m speaking from a perspective with a pretty basic understanding of the Mayas). Once Asturias begins to describe the arrival of the Spaniards (17) and the text begins describing colonial scenes (18-20), everything seems more familiar, until the beginning of the second paragraph on page twenty where the text fades back into the unfamiliar once again with the line, “El Cuco de los Sueños va hilando los cuentos.”

Thursday, January 7, 2010

bueno, soy megan para empezar...encantada de conoceros. estudio español ante todo, y lo demas es un baturrillo de mis intereses que incluyen: los artes visuales, antropología, linguísticas, la música, etc. a ver lo que va a ser de este blog...