Magical Realism Fills the Gap

            While it may be considered lighthearted and maybe a bit silly at times, the genre of magical realism fuses well with the narratives surrounding slavery because it fills the gap between the modern day reader’s sense of morality and the horrible occurrences of slavery. This is the case for Beloved because the genre turns the novel into something that is closer to fantasy—something we can believe but not relate to. It creates a distance between the reader and the story, a distance that is important when speaking about a part of history that is so hard to examine.

            The supernatural elements within the novel begins when the narrative does, when author Toni Morrison writes, “124 was spiteful” (3).  Through this first sentence we identify the house as a character itself.   We learn later that the reason the house is a character is because it is being controlled by the spirit of a young girl, so young that she was never named. In later sections of the novel, we will see that “124 was loud” (199), and “124 was quiet” (281) which shows that, like any other character, 124 goes through some development. While this element may be hard to accept at first, it is one of the strongest supernatural elements and a key piece to the distance between the reader and the novel.

            Another supernatural element is the arrival of the character Beloved. While the family believes that she is merely a traveler, there is later a moment in which she and Denver bond and it is revealed that she may be the return of the baby whose spirit controlled 124. When Denver asks why she calls herself Beloved, she replies “in the dark my name is Beloved” (88). We know that the child Sethe had died before she could be named, but that the word “beloved” was inscribed on her tombstone.

Additionally, when describing where she was before she got to 124, Beloved explains that it was “dark” and that “a lot of people is down there. Some is dead” (88).

            While these supernatural elements make the novel engaging, as I have said before, it also creates a distance that makes it easier to enjoy the novel while still identifying the cruelties of slavery and the devastating conditions of life as an African American in the reconstruction era. While it is unfortunate that authors must “water-down” the concept of slavery and reconstruction, if it means that readers will be engaged in the story and want to read it then it is beneficial. 

Paul D's Lack of Adoration

                One of the things I find most intriguing when reading Beloved is how Beloved invokes such different responses, but equally powerfully, from each family member.  These responses range from adoration to a strong dislike, enough to want to kick Beloved out of the house.  Paul D’s response to Beloved is the one I find most interesting because it differs greatly from Sethe and Denver’s reaction.  Paul D is not captivated by Beloved like the others and does not try to endlessly please her.  In fact, he is suspicious of her stating that, “Something funny ‘bout that gal” (56).  I think that Paul D’s dislike of Beloved stems from two distinct reasons.

            The first reason I believe Paul D dislikes Beloved is because she is taking Sethe’s attention away from him.  Paul D has not seen Sethe for eighteen years and has traveled through harsh conditions to end up with her.  He explains his travels to Sethe saying, “I been in territory ain’t got no name, never staying nowhere long.  But when I got here and sat out there on the porch, waiting for you, well, I knew it wasn’t the place I was heading toward; it was you” (46).  Then, just as Sethe, Paul D, and Denver go to the carnival, have a great day, and start to feel like a family, Beloved shows up.  While Paul D wants to take care of her at first, he begins to resent her presence when Beloved does not leave.  When Paul D comes home at night, Sethe is not waiting for his arrival, but spending time with Beloved.  He decides that it is time to kick Beloved out of the house when he notices, “some petlike adoration that took hold of her as she looked at Sethe” (64).  While Paul D does have good reasons for not trusting Beloved and her past, his dislike grows from the way Beloved captures Sethe’s attention.

            The second reason that I believe Paul D dislikes Beloved is because she pays no attention to him.  When Paul D initially recognizes the obsession that Beloved has with Sethe, he mistakenly believes adoration (which he refers to as shining) is for him.  However, when he realizes that her “shining” is not for him, he begins to detest Beloved’s presence stating, “He wanted her out” (66).  Beloved often acts as if Paul D is not there.  If she does acknowledge his presence, she treats his poorly and does not answer his questions.  He observes her behavior: “she paid him no attention at all – frequently not even answering a direct question put to her.  She would look at him and not open her mouth” (64).  He reacts to these actions by quizzing Beloved about her past and how she ended up at 124.  He does not start to push for Beloved’s departure until he notices her cold attitude towards him.

            Beloved seems to have won over every member of the family except Paul D.  While none of the family knows Beloved’s past, Paul D is the only one who is suspicious.  This stems from Beloved stealing Sethe’s attention from himself and Beloved not paying any attention to him.  For these two reasons, Paul D pushes for Beloved’s departure from 124.

Denver as Mother-Sister

            I’m starting to think that incest is the only qualification needed to win the Nobel Prize.  Not really, but at this rate V. C. Andrews should prepare a lecture.  I’ve only read half of the novel, but I’m starting to notice how unnatural the connections the women in this family have.  It struck me at first with Denver and Beloved, and although I have no textual proof that there is anything out of the ordinary, Denver’s desperation to keep Beloved in the family seems startling.  Denver alone knows the secret of Beloved’s true nature.  She is the incarnate ghost of the dead child.  Although Beloved only has attention to give to Sethe, (I will get to my thoughts on that later) Denver casts her own maternal gaze upon her.  Denver wants to teach Beloved how to tie her shoes, how to do chores, anything that will form a connection between them.  This might just be showing how lonely Denver is without the ghost, or emphasize how sad it was that her only connection to another spirit was a ghost in the first place, but it is also starting to get a bit creepy.  She oven refers to the tip of something peaking out of Beloved’s dress.  I believe it is an umbilical chord, and that is very weird, but referring to it as an unnamed fleshy object with a tip arouses sexual connotations. 

            Beloved’s interest in Sethe also seems a bit over dramatic.  Sometimes it seems like she is trying to kill Sethe, and other times the love she has seems romantic.  On page 114, a spirit chokes Sethe and she moans in pleasure as Beloved puts her fingers on her neck to soothe her.  The contrast between Beloved’s benevolent actions and her loving gestures are very suspicious, yet Denver would choose Beloved over Sethe since she feels a sense of responsibility over her.  I also think that Beloved might have had sex with Paul D, which would cause some problems.  Beloved’s intentions may be to kill Sethe in order to have Sethe for herself in the afterlife.  She often states that the house is “where she is” meaning that she does not plan to leave.  Could her intention be to kill Sethe, and live as ghosts in the house together? 

The Nostalgia and Madness of 100 Years

(Nikki’s post and a class with Dr. Doggett encouraged me to discuss the notion of nostalgia.)

       Nostalgia stereotypically carries a positive connotation but its etymological root is in the word nausea. Homesickness relates memory to feel physically ill. While nostalgia can mean fondly looking back, it is also a feeling of unease. In 100 Years, Ursula exemplifies these seemingly polar definitions. The bedridden Ursula, in her recounting of the family history to the children, regresses into the past to reach the details of her dynastic family.

      Colonel Aureliano Buendias exhibits in the first brief moments of the novel his connection to memory. His immediate flashback to childhood, the earliest we can recall, allows his life—which will become only a memory—to come full-circle, in the way that the novel tends to do.

      The Colonel’s nostalgia comes in the form of regret. The mistakes he’s made come back to haunt him as he sinks further into the madness of isolation. He later views the treaty he signed with the Conservatives as a sign of personal weakness. He allows, despite hearty protest, the execution of his long-time friend Moncada. His rash decision to threaten warfare resulted in the assassination of sixteen of his sons, who could be identified by the crosses on their foreheads and who were killed uniformly.

      Colonel Aur. provides an interesting case study: his lack of social interaction and his obsessive behavior show the old man’s deteriorating sanity. His serial depression and mental instability stem from the need to entirely remember the past.

      The golden fish he’d create out of hobby or habit suddenly haunt him. He cannot create anything new—all the fish have to come from something old. He melts down his old models in order to create new ones because he longs for the sincerity of the past. He has destroy the past in order to recreate it, to know it, to remember it. His dying moments are the beginning of the tale, so we already know the story will be cyclical. Throughout his adult life and as an old man, he is wracked by the clutches of nostalgia.

      Nostalgia in the novel does not only apply to the elderly, however. Jose Arcadio Buendias tries to delve back into his past by exploring Melquiades’ documents in isolation. He also falls into the trap of madness via isolation.

      Nostalgia is bittersweet. It can be kind, and it can be evil.  

The Sad Waltzes of Pietro Crespi

Gabriel Garcia Marquez said that he wanted to write a book about incest, and of the various reoccurring and prominent themes throughout 100 Years of Solitude incest is perhaps the most prevalent. Macondo is essentially a town founded on incest, and despite their various misfortunes throughout the novel, the Buendia family can’t seem to get enough of each other—literally. Jose Arcadio Buendia and Ursula Iguaran’s children may not have been born with pig tails as they had feared, but their children surely lacked something to be desired: Colonel Aureliano Buendia and his seemingly endless and pointless war, the marriage of Jose Arcadio and Rebeca (though the two are technically not brother and sister, the way they were raised as such can be seen as a sort of incest in itself), and Amaranta’s cruel refusal of Pietro Crespi which ultimately led to his suicide give us just a glimpse of the consequences of incest. 

Incestuous desires seem to be the greatest weakness of the Buendia family; even when given the chance to love (and be loved by) someone outside of the family the Buendias’ can’t help but to gravitate towards each other. Both Rebeca and Amaranta fall in love with—the seemingly desirable and endearing—Pietro Crespi, but Rebeca is overcome with Jose Arcadio supposed “manliness,” and Amaranta, though she obviously regrets her harsh decision, refuses Crespi when he finally gives himself over to her. It seems Amaranta would rather torture herself by having incestuous relationships with her nephews than break the Buendia family tradition of ‘keeping it in the [Buendia] family.’ Even when Amaranta “listened to the waltzes of Pietro Crespi she felt the same desire to weep that she had had in adolescence, as if time and harsh lessons had meant nothing” (277). It seems as though time and harsh lessons, from the death of Prudencio and the founding of Macondo to its udder ruin, meant nothing to any of the Buendia family. 

Colonel Aureliano Buendía’s Suicide Attempt

Colonel Aureliano Buendía’s Suicide Attempt

            Colonel Gerineldo Marques captured the emptiness that leads to Colonel Aureliano Buendía attempt in his statement “You’re rotting alive” (165). 

            The Colonel was always slightly detached from others, yet his love for Remedios and his early passion for the war showed that he did have a certain capacity for emotion. Yet the passion that is invested in the war is wasted away as he realizes the hopelessness of it all, and that it is pride that keeps the war raging.           

           The two central parts in his life, love and war, served as vessels for emotion and they both failed him. Such losses paved the way for his act of shooting himself in the chest. Unlike the two before him the Colonel’s shot was placed “perfectly”, and he is not allowed to end his life. This miracle does not change his mind on the value of life for he believes that surviving made him look like a fool.

            While Colonel Aureliano Buendía’s attempt does not end in his death it does begin the end of his emotions, and soon his memories, and he withdraws from his family even more. Just as the family as a whole turns in on itself with more and more incestuous occurrences (José Arcadio Buendía and Úrsula Iguarán, Arcadio and Pilar Ternera etc.) on the smaller scope the individuals turn into themselves as well, and the Colonel locks himself away in his workshop. When the president of the Republic tries to award the Colonel with the Order of Merit he rejects its. He states that he “was not a hero of the nation as they said but an artisan without memories whose only dream was to die of fatigue in the oblivion and misery of his little gold fishes” (214). Once again the idea of losing one’s memories is revived, yet instead of it being a terrifying idea it is welcomed by the Colonel.

            As the Colonel shuts himself away from the world, the village is pried open, both actions are acts that turn away from the past, and both are destructive. The act of attempting suicide can be seen as a loss of innocence, the turning away from life, just as Colonel gave up, and lost himself, the town was torn open and its original Eden-like state was shattered.

Both the village and the man become mere shells of what they used to be:

“So many changes took place in such a short time that eight months after Mr. Herbert’s visit the old inhabitants had a hard time recognizing their own town” (228).  

“He locked himself up inside himself and the family finally thought of him as dead” (263).

            Colonel Aureliano Buendía finally dies without any memories, the same fate for the village, by a chestnut tree, surrounded by "his miserable solitude", ready to be picked apart by vultures (267).

             

What's in a Name?

Gabriel Garcia Marquez may only know approximately five names, which would explain the limited selection found in One Hundred Years of Solitude. However, I find it more likely that he knew what he was doing and chose to write the novel simply repeating names such as José, Arcadio, Aureliano, and Remedios. There are a couple names he uses only once, such as Ursula and Amaranta. While this technique is ultimately confusing and almost frustrating, if not completely, utterly frustrating, one would think that an author worthy of winning the Nobel Prize has a method to his madness. He does. When one learns the meaning of the names he uses for his characters, again and again, one can understand why these names, as well as the variants on the combinations.

            Starting with the first name, and only the first name, of the father in the novel, one can understand why Marquez names him “José.” The name is a derivative of the English name Joseph, which is almost immediately recognized as a Biblical name by many people. “José” means literally, “God will increase.” One can read this as a reference to the way José Arcadio Buendia is constantly trying to increase his wealth and technology through inventions brought by the gypsies, or perhaps increasing the town’s prosperity as he is the founder of Macondo. Biologically, he increases the town’s population with his own children, some of whom have several children of their own. Joseph is sometimes considered Jesus’s earthly father, which of course relates to the head of household stance José Arcadio Buendia takes while he is still of sound mind and living in the house, not under the tree.

            The name “Ursula,” literally translates into “young bear.” While she does in fact start out young, as she references marrying José Arcadio Buendia, she lives to an unbelievable age in the novel. However, she keeps her ferocity and protectiveness over her family, much like a mother bear and her cubs. Even when her children get out of line when they are grown, she is not afraid to confront them and attempt to make them see what they are doing wrong.

            “Arcadio,” means “from Arcadia,” which is a region in Greece known for being a pure, untouched wilderness, as well as adventure. While the name does not seem to imply much in the way of José Arcadio Buendia, it definitely fits his son, José Arcadio. When the gypsies leave town after a visit, he runs away with them, not returning for years. José Arcadio finally comes back, and has basically regressed in his behavior as a civilized man. All of the boys named “Arcadio” from here on out have the same wild sense of adventure.

            The name “Amaranta,” means “unfading,” which certainly describes Amaranta in the novel. Her “unfading,” characteristic mainly applies to her view on men. She wants Pietro Crespi so badly she threatens Rebeca out of extreme jealousy, but when she finally has the opportunity to marry Crespi, she refuses him and drives him to suicide. General Gerineldo Marquez also wants to have her hand in marriage, and even though she cares for him, she refuses and ultimately dies alone.

            The last of the direct, biological children of Ursula and José Arcadio Buendia is Aureliano. His name translates into, “golden,” which can certainly be connected to the fish he makes when his career as a colonel eventually ends. All boys with the name “Aureliano,” are said to have a distinct, solemn look in their eye; all seventeen of his sons have this look. His talent and drive as a rebel military leader can also be described as “golden,” since he is so good at what he does, especially in the beginning of the wars.

            While the names “Rebeca,” and “Remedios,” are important names as well, they do not repeat, at least as much, with the exception of Ursula. “José,” “Arcadio,” “Amaranta,” and “Aureliano,” are a few of the most repetitive, important names in the novel, and there is no doubt as to why Gabriel Garcia Marquez chose them.

http://www.thinkbabynames.com/meaning

http://wiki.name.com/en/Baby_Names