The passage I want to bring up is sort of long, but it is pages 181-182 at the start of the chapter titled "Hell." Here, Danticat is sharing yet another story told by Granmè Melina about a man who finds himself in Hell. The story ends abruptly on page 182 with a quick transition from the last line of the story to where it moves on at "The next morning, Monday, at four a.m.," and so on.
This "splicing" of literature is a technique used by Danticat a lot which keeps her story interesting. It's an interesting way to see the story she was told as it interrupts the story she is telling, and that keeps her still distant and separate from her emotions towards the situations. Especially with a tale about Hell where it is defined as being "whatever you fear most" when the following line talks of Maxo and his family going somewhere reluctantly.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
where is edwidge?
"Beating the Darkness"
this chapter features a narrative on the events of the october 24, 2004 when United Nations soldiers and local riot police joined forces in trying to eradicate the murderous gangs from Bel Air. the thing that struck me about this particle passage, is that edwidge is nowhere in the events that took place. and yet, her retelling of what happened is intriguingly detailed and clear.
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i think perhaps the most gripping line from that whole section, is on page 171. it reads: "Looking over the trashstrewn alleys that framed the building, he thought for the first time since he'd lost Tante Denise that he was glad she was dead." for me, that is so heavy. what a thought for her uncle to be having. in my opinion, a thought like that is so personal, that it can only come out of some kind of deep love, nurtured and cultivated over a great time. i feel like, to be thankful for someones absence in life, can only be created from an incredible sense of hopelessness. and this is what's going on within the mind and emotions of danticats uncle, though she's writing it.
i want to know how she knew that was what he was thinking, because of how outside of herself a moment like that is.
did he admit this extremely personal moment to edwidge? or is this part of the imagination that comes with the creative license given to all writers?
this chapter features a narrative on the events of the october 24, 2004 when United Nations soldiers and local riot police joined forces in trying to eradicate the murderous gangs from Bel Air. the thing that struck me about this particle passage, is that edwidge is nowhere in the events that took place. and yet, her retelling of what happened is intriguingly detailed and clear.
---------
i think perhaps the most gripping line from that whole section, is on page 171. it reads: "Looking over the trashstrewn alleys that framed the building, he thought for the first time since he'd lost Tante Denise that he was glad she was dead." for me, that is so heavy. what a thought for her uncle to be having. in my opinion, a thought like that is so personal, that it can only come out of some kind of deep love, nurtured and cultivated over a great time. i feel like, to be thankful for someones absence in life, can only be created from an incredible sense of hopelessness. and this is what's going on within the mind and emotions of danticats uncle, though she's writing it.
i want to know how she knew that was what he was thinking, because of how outside of herself a moment like that is.
did he admit this extremely personal moment to edwidge? or is this part of the imagination that comes with the creative license given to all writers?
late post for jessica: writing prompt
Pick a memory and give it a voice. Talk to it as if it were a person.
APS for Jenna
Brother, I'm Dying, page # 41
"However, time was of the essence, so he had no choice but to travel without her, even though he feared that he might die and never see her again."
What did the white man say? page # 44
"The best place for me to make my announcement would have been at the family meeting the week before. This is probably what both my parents would have accepted, and preferred, rather than spitting something out adn scurrying off. But that night I couldn't look into my father's face and--though I knew it would come very natually to him and my mother both--ask taht they be happy for me."
"However, time was of the essence, so he had no choice but to travel without her, even though he feared that he might die and never see her again."
What did the white man say? page # 44
"The best place for me to make my announcement would have been at the family meeting the week before. This is probably what both my parents would have accepted, and preferred, rather than spitting something out adn scurrying off. But that night I couldn't look into my father's face and--though I knew it would come very natually to him and my mother both--ask taht they be happy for me."
Where's the Title?
I wanted to bring to attention the actual part in the book where the title gets its name.
"My uncle heard a crackling as my father's phone was picked up. 'Hello," my father said, his voice creaking anxiously. No good news could ever come at this hour of the night, he told himself.
My uncle pressed his lips as close as he could to the mouthpiece to whisper these three words: 'Frè, map mouri.' Brother, I'm dying.
'What's wrong?" my father asked.
'Gòj,' he replied. Throat."
-p. 41
I believe Jackie brought up the simplicity in the words, such as "Brother, I'm dying" or "My wife is dead." I believe this is really important to notice, especially here when the reaction isn't as emotional as one might expect. What fascinates me is how Danticat uses her translations as yet another barrier to separate herself from the book as we have seen throughout. I see her using the exact language first with the simple translation following as this split shows us the situation as it happened and the situation as we would understand. Unless the reader is familiar with the language, the translations are important after that brief moment of being left in the dark as we try to unfold what the Uncle was saying.
"My uncle heard a crackling as my father's phone was picked up. 'Hello," my father said, his voice creaking anxiously. No good news could ever come at this hour of the night, he told himself.
My uncle pressed his lips as close as he could to the mouthpiece to whisper these three words: 'Frè, map mouri.' Brother, I'm dying.
'What's wrong?" my father asked.
'Gòj,' he replied. Throat."
-p. 41
I believe Jackie brought up the simplicity in the words, such as "Brother, I'm dying" or "My wife is dead." I believe this is really important to notice, especially here when the reaction isn't as emotional as one might expect. What fascinates me is how Danticat uses her translations as yet another barrier to separate herself from the book as we have seen throughout. I see her using the exact language first with the simple translation following as this split shows us the situation as it happened and the situation as we would understand. Unless the reader is familiar with the language, the translations are important after that brief moment of being left in the dark as we try to unfold what the Uncle was saying.
A Connection
verba volant, scripta manent -- spoken words fly away, written words remain."
“To write vulnerably is to open a Pandora’s box. Who can say what will coming flying out? When I began, nine years ago, to make my emotions part of my ethnography, I had no idea where this work would take me or whether it would be accepted within anthropology and the academy.” The Vulnerable Observoer: Anthropology That Breaks Your Heart. Ruth Behar. 1996
“To write vulnerably is to open a Pandora’s box. Who can say what will coming flying out? When I began, nine years ago, to make my emotions part of my ethnography, I had no idea where this work would take me or whether it would be accepted within anthropology and the academy.” The Vulnerable Observoer: Anthropology That Breaks Your Heart. Ruth Behar. 1996
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