#argentinian authors
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IV - Nobody comes in here with words by Diana Bellessi (tr. Leo Boix)
#quote#typography#nobody comes in here with words#diana bellessi#leo boix#literature#poetry#dark academia#light academia#aesthetic#bodymind#desire#argentinian poetry#south american poetry#south american authors#argentinian authors
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"What is feminism?"
"It's a response against the hatred that masculine society, past and present, feels towards women.
It's an individual and group awareness.
It's the search for fraternity between women.
It's to know oneself, without competing against the male.
It's to denounce segregation.
It's the understanding that most of feminine disgraces are not ordained by God nor Nature, but by men for their comfort.
It's pretending to reign not over men, but over our own bodies and destiny.
It's to go against the images that society categorizes ourselves: whores or goddesses, martyrs or witches.
It's understanding that we live betrayed and deformed by a false education.
it's understanding that all revolutions that brought some partial progress didn't take into account half of humanity's specific issues.
It's looking for the freedom without thinking ad hominem, or to be pointed at by when, how and how much.
It's, once we're integrated into society, radically changing it, a society based in violence, exploitation, and repression.
It's pointing at and combatting misogyny, because what starts as a simple word, ends up in a witch hunt or concentration camps.
It's understanding that the exceptional women only prove the rule.
It's rejecting millenary labels.
It's comprehending that charity starts inside the home, but the home is the world.
It's to realize that exceptions don't count much because all women have the same problems."
- María Elena Walsh.
Translated by me.
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Book Review: Historias de Cronopios y de Famas, Julio Cortázar
My Review in a Tweet:
Imagine you get a box filled with puzzle pieces, but they are all from different puzzles. You may see a familiar figure here, another face there, but no matter how you try to arrange the pieces together, you are sure it's not the meant image. Reading this book is like that.
My Full Review:
I became aware yesterday of my inappropriate lack of Argentinean authors in my reading list this year, and trying to mend that a little, I found this little book in a bookshelf while visiting my parents for the holidays.
While quite short, this book reminded me how much I ignore. I felt in a clear cultural disadvantage, where Cortázar (who some people may call the greatest Argentinean author) was playing a joke at my expense. I don't say this negatively.
Historias de Cronopios y de Famas is a collection of short stories, vague poems and... Nonsense. That's when the ignorance I felt started to creep in. I'm not sure of the exact literary current Cortázar belongs to, but this book read to me like an absurdist ramble without crossing over to dadaism.
I tend to believe that there are some clear themes of social and economic classes coating the short stories of the Cronopios, the Famas and the Hopes: they work as fictional and bizarre versions of Argentina's middle-to-low, high and (cultural) elite class respectively (I'm not sure about the Hopes). Cronopios are despised and treated condescendingly by the Famas, mocking their behavior and traditions, all too jovial and effusive and lazy; the Famas think too high of themselves and tend to use and abuse the other two; the Hopes seem to be trapped in an academic gasp, stunned by the lack of refinement of the Cronopios.
Even the short stories not directly related to the Cronopios and Famas act as a display of Argentina's idiosyncrasy, helped by the explicit mention of some elements, some places of this country (and more specifically, from Gran Buenos Aires).
But you have to remember that none of the stories really make sense. They are almost poetical, oneirical, nearing the realm of magical realism, very popular in Latin America.
The narration and writing themselves demand a lot of the reader's attention and time, forcing them to engage with the book to find some sense.
Again, I say all of this in a positive light: it's a challenging book in almost a literal sense, it presents itself innocently, like a bunch of nonsense, but soon you start to feel like there's something more underneath, like if under this outer coat of surrealistic and abstract tales laid a more tangible and grounded coat of the same color, merely a different tone but same color nonetheless.
I'm not sure how well this book would be received by non-argentinian or non-spanish speaking persons, but it's a good book anyways.
7,5/10.
My Other 2023 Readings.
#cortázar#julio cortázar#my 2023 readings#book review#book reviews#2023 readings#my readings#argentinean authors#argentinian authors
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"Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote" is available to read here
*Originally published in Spanish under the title "Pierre Menard, autor del Quijote"
#short stories#short story#pierre menard author of the quixote#pierre menard autor del quijote#spanish language literature#argentinian literature#20th century literature#have you read this short fiction?#book polls#completed polls#links to text
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Just realized something
Carlos Trillo and Carlos Meglia create CyberSix as a comic
Gets a live action tv show then a cartoon series
James Cameron gets "inspired" by it then creates Dark Angel
Jensen Ackles plays a character that has pheromones
Everyone moves on, then Supernatural comes in
Supernatural fans discover Jensen's role in Dark Angel
Supernatural fans create Omegaverse
Omegaverse has latinamerican, specifically argentinian roots
Argentinatural is canon and this is not our proudest Coronación de Gloria
#red rambles#supernatural#dark angel#cybersix#jensen ackles#omegaverse#abo verse#it is unclear if james cameron got inspired or stole from cybersix#there are rumors the comic authors wanted to sue him#but they knew that two argentinians couldn't sue an american specially during the recovery of the economical crisis#with inflation and devaluation of our currency happening as well#it is quite the rumor and confirmation why nothing legal happened at least that's what I heard from veteran comic artists from argentina#omegaverse is argentina's fault
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Welcome to the first edition of this humble reading club! In this first round we are doing poetry with an open conception about what poetry is. Each member of the club will be posting a piece of literature of their own country (in english and the original language). There will be one post per week every friday. Every member will post from their own blog respecting the style and using “les tumblrinas du mal” as tag. The discussion around the piece of literature will be on the same post in the section of comments (only). The club is open to new members, everyone can interact with post without being part of the club.
................
"Manifesto (I Speak For My Difference)" by Pedro Lemebel
Pedro Lemebel (1952–2015) was a Chilean artist, writer, and queer revolutionary. Lemebel first made their mark on Chilean literature through a series of performances and readings made in the 1980s. Their writings (including poetry, short stories, and non-fiction pieces) were known for their boldly queer and provocative stance, as well as for their ability to commemorate the beauty and the grit of working-class queer life in Chile.
In 1986, there was a large gathering of left-leaning opposition groups in the Mapocho Station of Santiago. It was here that Lemebel would make their defiant entry into Chile’s literary culture, dressed in high heels and with a hammer and sickle dolled onto their face. It is this context, of an intransigent public intervention against the established left in Chile, that the poem should be read.
credits to Sebastian Sanchez
I Speak For My Difference
I am not Pasolini asking for explanations
I am not Ginsberg expelled from Cuba
I am not a fag disguised as a poet
I don’t need a disguise
Here is my face
I speak for my difference
I defend what I am
And I am not so strange
I hate injustice
And I don’t trust this democratic dance
But don’t talk to me about the proletariat
Because being poor and a faggot is worse
You gotta be rough to bear it
It’s crossing the street when you see those lads on the corner
It’s a father that hates you
Because his one and only son has a limp wrist
It’s having a mother with hands cut by chlorine
Aged by cleaning
Cradling you when you’re sick
Because of bad habits
Because of bad luck
Like the dictatorship
Worse than the dictatorship
Because dictatorships end
And then comes democracy
And right behind it socialism too
And so?
What will they do with us, comrades?
Will we be tied by our braids into bundles
bound for a Cuban AIDS sanitorium?
They’ll put us on some train to nowhere
Like on General Ibáñez’s ship
Where we learned to swim
But none of us made it to shore
Because of that Valparaíso dimmed its red lights
Because of that the whorehouses
Poured out a single black tear
For those fruits feasted on by crabs
That year the Commission of Human Rights
doesn’t remember
Because of that, comrade, I’m asking you
Does the Siberian train that
reactionaries decry still exist?
That train that passes before your eyes
When my voice starts to get too sweet
And you?
What will you do with that childhood memory
Of us stroking our cocks together (among other things)
While on holiday in Cartagena?
Will the future be in black and white?
Will the difference between night time
and the working day always be clear?
Won’t there be a faggot on some corner
Throwing the future of your new man off balance?
Will they let us embroider birds
on the flags of our free homeland?
I leave the rifle to you
Who is cold-blooded
And it’s not fear
I lost my fear
Of dodging knives
In the seedy basements where I spent my time
And don’t feel attacked
If I speak to you of these things
And check out your bulge
I’m not a hypocrite.
Don’t a woman’s tits
Make you lower your gaze?
Don’t you think
That alone in the mountains
Something would happen between us?
Even if you hate me afterwards
For corrupting your revolutionary morals.
Are you scared I’ll homosexualize your life?
And I’m not just talking about putting it in
& taking it out & taking it out & putting it in
I’m talking about tenderness, comrade
You don’t know
How much it costs to find love
In these conditions
You don’t know
What it’s like to carry this leprosy
People keep their distance
People understand and say:
He’s a fag but he writes well
He’s a fag but he’s a good friend
Real-good-vibes
But I’m not good vibes
I accept the world
Without asking for those good vibes
But either way they laugh
There are scars of laughter on my back
You say I think with my ass
And that with the first shock of the electric prod
I’d let it all slip
You don’t know that I never learnt
My manhood in the barracks
The night taught me my manhood
Behind a post
That manhood you boast of
Was drilled into you in boot camp
By a murderous pig
Like the ones still in power
I didn’t get my manhood from the party
Because they rejected me with sniggers
More than once
I learnt my manhood participating
In the struggle of those years
And they laughed at my faggy voice
Chanting: And it’s gonna fall, and it’s gonna fall
And although you shout like a man
You’ve brought nothing down
My manhood was the gag
It wasn’t going to the stadium
And getting into scraps for Colo-Colo
Football is another form of repressed homosexuality
Like boxing, politics, and wine
My manhood was biting down on my tongue
Eating my rage so I didn’t kill the whole world
My manhood is accepting myself as different
Being a coward is much more difficult
The only other cheek I’ll turn,
Comrade, is on my ass
And that is my vengeance
My manhood waits patiently
For the chauvinists to get old
Because at this stage of the game
The left is trading its limp ass
In parliament
My manhood was difficult
That’s why I won’t get on this train
Without knowing where it’s going
I won’t change for Marxism
Which rejected me so many times
I don’t need to change
I’m more subversive than you
I won’t change just
Because of the rich and the poor
Give me a break
I also wont change because capitalism is unjust
In New York fags kiss on the street
But I’ll let you chew on that
You who are so interested
In the revolution not rotting away
To you I leave this message
And this is not for me
I am old
And your utopia is for those who are to come
There are so many children who will be born
With a broken wing
And I want them to soar, comrade
I want your revolution
To give them a piece of red sky
So they can fly.
...
Hablo por mi diferencia
No soy Pasolini pidiendo explicaciones
No soy Ginsberg expulsado de Cuba
No soy un marica disfrazado de poeta
No necesito disfraz
Aquí está mi cara
Hablo por mi diferencia
Defiendo lo que soy
Y no soy tan raro
Me apesta la injusticia
Y sospecho de esta cueca democrática
Pero no me hable del proletariado
Porque ser pobre y maricón es peor
Hay que ser ácido para soportarlo
Es darle un rodeo a los machitos de la esquina
Es un padre que te odia
Porque al hijo se le dobla la patita
Es tener una madre de manos tajeadas por el cloro
Envejecidas de limpieza
Acunándote de enfermo
Por malas costumbres
Por la mala suerte
Como la dictadura
Peor que la dictadura
Porque la dictadura pasa
Y viene la democracia
Y detrasito el socialismo
¿Y entonces?
¿Qué harán con nosotros, compañeros?
¿Nos amarrarán de las trenzas en fardos
con destino a un sidario cubano?
Nos meterán en algún tren de ninguna parte
Como en el barco del general Ibáñez
Donde aprendimos a nadar
Pero ninguno llegó a la costa
Por eso Valparaíso apagó sus luces rojas
Por eso las casas de caramba
Le brindaron una lágrima negra
A los colizas comidos por las jaibas
Ese año que la Comisión de Derechos Humanos
no recuerda
Por eso, compañero, le pregunto
¿Existe aún el tren siberiano
de la propaganda reaccionaria?
Ese tren que pasa por sus pupilas
Cuando mi voz se pone demasiado dulce
¿Y usted?
¿Qué hará con ese recuerdo de niños
Pajeándonos y otras cosas
En las vacaciones de Cartagena?
¿El futuro será en blanco y negro?
¿El tiempo en noche y día laboral
sin ambigüedades?
¿No habrá un maricón en alguna esquina
desequilibrando el futuro de su hombre nuevo?
¿Van a dejarnos bordar de pájaros
las banderas de la patria libre?
El fusil se lo dejo a usted
Que tiene la sangre fría
Y no es miedo
El miedo se me fue pasando
De atajar cuchillos
En los sótanos sexuales donde anduve
Y no se sienta agredido
Si le hablo de estas cosas
Y le miro el bulto
No soy hipócrita
¿Acaso las tetas de una mujer
no lo hacen bajar la vista?
¿No cree usted
que solos en la sierra
algo se nos iba a ocurrir?
Aunque después me odie
Por corromper su moral revolucionaria
¿Tiene miedo que se homosexualice la vida?
Y no hablo de meterlo y sacarlo
Y sacarlo y meterlo solamente
Hablo de ternura, compañero
Usted no sabe
Cómo cuesta encontrar el amor
En estas condiciones
Usted no sabe
Qué es cargar con esta lepra
La gente guarda las distancias
La gente comprende y dice:
Es marica pero escribe bien
Es marica pero es buen amigo
Súper-buena-onda
Yo no soy buena onda
Yo acepto al mundo
Sin pedirle esa buena onda
Pero igual se ríen
Tengo cicatrices de risas en la espalda
Usted cree que pienso con el poto
Y que al primer parrillazo de la CNI
Lo iba a soltar todo
No sabe que la hombría
Nunca la aprendí en los cuarteles
Mi hombría me la enseñó la noche
Detrás de un poste
Esa hombría de la que usted se jacta
Se la metieron en el regimiento
Un milico asesino
De esos que aún están en el poder
Mi hombría no la recibí del partido
Porque me rechazaron con risitas
Muchas veces
Mi hombría la aprendí participando
En la dura de esos años
Y se rieron de mi voz amariconada
Gritando: Y va a caer, y va a caer
Y aunque usted grita como hombre
No ha conseguido que se vaya
Mi hombría fue la mordaza
No fue ir al estadio
Y agarrarme a combos por el Colo Colo
El fútbol es otra homosexualidad tapada
Como el box, la política y el vino
Mi hombría fue morderme las burlas
Comer rabia para no matar a todo el mundo
Mi hombría es aceptarme diferente
Ser cobarde es mucho más duro
Yo no pongo la otra mejilla
Pongo el culo, compañero
Y ésa es mi venganza
Mi hombría espera paciente
Que los machos se hagan viejos
Porque a esta altura del partido
La izquierda tranza su culo lacio
En el parlamento
Mi hombría fue difícil
Por eso a este tren no me subo
Sin saber dónde va
Yo no voy a cambiar por el marxismo
Que me rechazó tantas veces
No necesito cambiar
Soy más subversivo que usted
No voy a cambiar solamente
Porque los pobres y los ricos
A otro perro con ese hueso
Tampoco porque el capitalismo es injusto
En Nueva York los maricas se besan en la calle
Pero esa parte se la dejo a usted
Que tanto le interesa
Que la revolución no se pudra del todo
A usted le doy este mensaje
Y no es por mí
Yo estoy viejo
Y su utopía es para las generaciones futuras
Hay tantos niños que van a nacer
Con una alíta rota
Y yo quiero que vuelen, compañero
Que su revolución
Les dé un pedazo de cielo rojo
Para que puedan volar.
#reading club#les tumblrinas du mal#pedro lemebel#i decide go for a chilean author this time since i have both nationality argentinian and chilean#and because yu is part of club and she will gave us some argentinian content for the third week#if you want to be part of the club just send an ask
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"a silence, the whole house like an enormous ear..."
~ Julio Cortázar, Bestiary (tr. Paul Blackburn)
#julio cortázar#quotes#literature#literature quotes#lit quotes#literary quotes#quotations#south american literature#20th century literature#20th century lit#argentinian literature#argentinian author#book quotes#hispanic author#hispanic literature#book excerpt#lit excerpts#excerpts#short story#fiction#magic realism#translated literature
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Little Eyes by Samanta Schweblin
#books#literature#book recommendations#quotes#literature quotes#female authors#women authors#fiction#novels#argentinian literature#translated books#Samanta schweblin
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not even i am sure why argentinians hate producing genre fiction
#like ok it makes sense why there aren´t more like sci fi tv shows or movies or tv shows#BECAUSE WE ARE POOR#but i can only think of like. one argentinian fantasy author
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Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986), The Aleph and Other Stories, 1933-1969 : Together With Commentaries And An Autobiographical Essay, E. P. Dutton New York 1978.
#short story#literary fiction#literature#world literature#20th Century literature#modern literature#postmodernist literature#Argentinian author#Argentinian writer#Jorge Luis Borges#The Aleph#book excerpt
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IV - Nobody comes in here with words by Diana Bellessi (tr. Leo Boix)
#quote#typography#nobody comes in here with words#diana bellessi#leo boix#literature#poetry#dark academia#light academia#aesthetic#bodymind#argentinian poetry#south american poetry#south american authors#argentinian authors
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If you want atrocities I would recommend reading Tender is the Flesh, truly horrifying, made me gag a couple of times.
(I also read that an adaptation of the book is in the works and I truly have no idea how one would go about doing that.)
*runs to Google*
*adds to list*
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The Total Library: Non-Fiction 1922-1986 :: Jorge Borges
The Total Library: Non-Fiction 1922-1986 :: Jorge Borges
View On WordPress
#0-713-99271-9#20th century literature#argentinian literature#books by jorge borges#eliot weinberger#esther allen#first edition books#jorge luis borges#south american literature#spanish american authors#spanish english translations#spanish essays english#spanish fiction#spanish fiction translation#spanish literary#spanish novels#spanish prose#spanish stories#spanish writers#suzanne jill levine & eliot weinberger
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The Anatomist - Federico Andahazi
“To present a thesis on the body implies, inevitably, another thesis concerning the soul.” (171)
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Still no new croc stuff from me (but I got something in the works), so instead more general paleonews. Today, a new pterosaur ancestor and it looks WEIRD.
This is Venetoraptor gassenae (Gassen's Plunderer from Vale Veneto) is a new lagerpetid literally just published a couple of minutes ago. According to its description (and as seen in the image) it had a toothless premaxilla that was hooked like the beak of a raptorial bird. It may have been covered in keratin, which is interesting as the skulls of early pterosaurs appear to have been smooth. The hands are obviously enormous and the size differences between the fingers are well in line with what pterosaurs would later have (i.e. the fourth finger is the longest, the fifth is reduced in Venetoraptor and absent in pterosaurs), but the legs are still much longer. The claws are described as sharp and scythe-like and again, its interesting that the fourth is the longest, as in other lagerpetids its usually the third that exceeds all others in length. Interesting connection between Veneto and pterosaurs for sure.
In terms of relationships it was found to be nested deep in lagerpetids, which, expectedly are recovered as the sister group to pterosaurs.
It seems to represent a whole new ecomorph not previously known from this group and interestingly coexisted not just with the related Ixalerpeton, but also with some early dinosaurs like Buriolestes. The beak is also interesting. Similar beaks have evolved multiple times in Triassic archosaurs and the hooked tip in particular is common even in modern birds, tho the authors argue that we know too little to say what precisely it was used for. Could be used for ripping flesh (like in falcons) or for eating fruit (like in parrots, fun fact, falcons and parrots are close relatives). As for the hand, the authors suggest that a big driver for ornithodirans playing around with them as the fact that they were not forced to be quadrupedal, so they could be more experimental, leading to hands fit for grasping, climbing and eventually flight.
Also for all those aware of the issues surrounding Brazilian fossils, rest assured, the fossil is being kept at the Centro de Apoio à Pesquisa Paleontológica da Quarta Colônia da Universidade Federal de Santa Maria, so it is in Brazil. The authors are primarily Brazilian (including the lead author Rodrigo Müller) and Argentinian, with two from the USA.
Linke:
New reptile shows dinosaurs and pterosaurs evolved among diverse precursors | Nature
#pterosauria#pterosaur#evolution#triassic#palaeoblr#paleontology#prehistory#venetoraptor#size comparisson#lagerpetidae
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