Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands

Although I first read Jorge Amado over a decade ago, Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands is very different from his early works of realism from the 1930s. Like Jubiabá, Dona Flor involves Candomble and Brazilian social commentary, yet the latter is clearly comedic and satirical with a more playful narration. The latter work of course also embraces the fantastic, with the spirit of Dona Flor's first husband returning after death and the African gods or orixas dueling with Exu, the patron saint  of said husband. Dona Flor is symbolized by Oshun, suggesting how one can read the various characters of the novel through the lens of the African deities. 

While much could be said about this seemingly light-hearted novel and what it means as a representation of Afro-Brazilian religion, spirituality, and Brazilian society in the middle of the 20th century, it strikes the reader as a story of polar opposites in need of resolution, of spirit versus matter. Class, status, emotional, social, and erotic desires and positions require Dona Flor to make up her mind about who she is and what she desires. Is she the abused wife of an amazing lover (and gambler) who satisfies her most deeply felt needs, or does she desire respectability, status, and comfort through a husband who adores her (Teodoro, the second husband). Is the trickster figure of a man (Vadinho) who cannot work a regular schedule or establish a conventional life, whose gambling lifestyle represents primal aspects of modern life, the path for Dona Flor? 

Ultimately, she chooses both Teodoro and Vadinho, bringing the novel to a resolution of the contrasting values of life and Brazilian society embodied in her two husbands (respectability, comfort and convention with Vadinho's erotic arts and rambunctious lifestyle). Intriguingly, the only religious tradition not mocked in the novel is Afro-Brazilian, and it is through the intercession of Exu, or Eleggua (Papa Legba) that the blond Vadinho returns after death. The spirit Exu, or Legba, the trickster at crossroads, pervades the novel as the many romps of Vadinho and the intersection of the orixas and the material world, even in the case of characters such as Dona Flor who do not serve the spirits. Yet the Exu/Legba character must be balanced in order for Dona Flor to thrive. This may be an attempt at depicting the liberated modern woman as in control of Apollonian and Dionysian impulses, and in charge of her own agency. After all, it is Dona Flor's love and assertion of her own will which saves Vadinho from the afterlife when the orixas combine forces against Exu. 

Like Water for Chocolate (Film)

The film version of Laura Esquivel's Like Water for Chocolate has one advantage over the book: the audience sees the delectable dishes prepared by Tita. Unfortunately, the film is less centered on the recipes than the novel, but retains the sensuousness of the source material. It's also interesting how the film addresses "race" in a way that's quite different from the novel. Gertrudis, the product of Mama Elena's affair with a mulatto (and, in the film, the cause of Tita's father), is supposedly 'black' and this causes a rife between Gertrudis and her general in the Mexican Revolution. Instead of addressing that issue of initial racism or obsession with bloodline purity, Gertrudis and her lover never separate because of her "mulatto" lineage. 

If I remember correctly, the film also changes the reason why Mama Elena's husband dies: he hears the rumors that Gertrudis is really the daughter of a black man, not his, and passes away. This is far from unusual in this magical realist love story. Ghosts, emotions, and seemingly supernatural things are expected, common occurrences for Tita and her world. As in the novel, everyone accepts it, with some humor for the reader or audience (the collective vomiting scene, for example). 

As a film standing on its own, I actually find it quite average. There is little ingenuity in the cinematography, so its strength comes from its adherence to the plot and some dialogue from Esquivel's novel. For those interested in learning about Mexico during the Mexican Revolution, cross-border relationships with Texas, or the gender roles of women. Again, I think the film, like the novel, reaffirms certain "racial" stereotypes about blacks and indigenous people, but overall, certainly worth watching for the delicious meals and appealing romance. 

Between Two Worlds

Simone Schwarz-Bart's Between Two Worlds, translated from the French original, Ti-Jean L'horizon, by Barbara Bray is an enchanting magical realist tale about slavery and identity in Guadeloupe, the author's homeland. While clearly specific to Guadeloupe and its rural communities, this postcolonial tale incorporates elements of pan-Caribbean culture and history (slavery, the zombi, a quote from Jacques Roumain, and a return to Africa) to tell the tale of Ti Jean, a young man from Fond Zombi who must return the Sun and save his community, which falls into reenslavement as eternal darkness reigns over the world. Along the way, Ti Jean experiences love, friendship, travels to Africa, France, and the Kingdom of Shades, and is forced to accept himself for what he is and take root in Guadeloupe. 

Although multilayered and at times a bit confusing (the numerous chapters where Ti Jean travels to Africa, for instance, and the dense mythological allusions and history can be hard to follow at times), Ti Jean's tale emphasizes the importance of Guadeloupe and its people's right to live free and with pride. The protagonist's grandfather, the 'Immortal One' who represents the maroons of the days of slavery, and the world of the descendants of slaves who meekly accept their condition, must learn to take pride in their land and free themselves of colonial thinking. Yet, the author does not fall entirely into negritude thought, since Ti Jean's return to Africa is not accepted by Wademba's people, thereby making the people of the Caribbean a branch of the African tree which must find roots in Guadeloupe. 

The text is full of local colors, supernatural events, travels across oceans and rivers, and last, but certainly not least, fully-fleshed symbolism and heroic archetypes. Ti Jean, compared to the Sun multiple times, ultimately frees it (metaphorically freeing the people of Guadeloupe from slavery and white domination) from the Beast (a cow with a pelican nesting in its ear), reminding one of Haitian literary giant Jacques Stephen Alexis, who also wrote of the Sun as an ally of the poor. In addition to ties with that tradition, the text quotes Jacques Roumain's Masters of the Dew in the final section, thereby linking itself with broader trends and a tradition of peasant novel and anti-colonial significance in the French Caribbean world. Needless to say, I could rant without end about the book, its cyclical message, the passionate critique of colonialism, and the numerous worlds the protagonist lives between, but I'll end here. Those eager to read of a fictionalized but highly integrated worlds of death, Africa before colonialism, and 20th century Guadeloupe should be highly interested in this novel. 

Favorite Quotes

"To tell the truth, it is a completely unimportant scrap of earth, and the experts have once and for all dismissed its history as insignificant."

"Moreover, it has a long history, full of wonders, bloodshed, and frustrations, and of desires no less vast than those that filled the skies of Nineveh, Babylon, or Jerusalem."

"Nor did they ask themselves whether Guadeloupe was of any importance in the world, they knew, they knew that rare happenings and unparalleled glories had been seen in the wretched forest they now haunted, and that these deeds had been the exploits of their ancestors."

"Instead of bringing everyone together under one shelter, darkness seemed to have stolen in between the living bodies, making them look just like dim shapes to one another, bereft of their weight of flesh and blood and old alliance."

"And our hero's heart was moved, moved by the living these familiar images as if the two worlds had held out their hands to each other, century after century."

"Being alive and dead at the same time, he belonged to both worlds yet was to both a stranger, as incongruous and out of place on earth as if he had fallen down from a star."

Like Water For Chocolate

Although I have owned a physical copy of Esquivel's popular novel for several years, I only recently finished reading the short book. A tale of forbidden love during the Mexican Revolution, the novel abounds in culinary delights that will make the reader hungry for more. Esquivel employs magical realism to enhance the story, but the simplicity of the narrative and the lack of more political commentary makes for an endearing read but lacking in the epic story arc characterizing the families in One Hundred Years of Solitude or House of the Spirits, two stellar novels that also use magical realism. Another weak aspect of the novel is the author's use of racial stereotypes of blacks as having natural rhythm, although the novel subtly criticizes racial and gender injustice.

Beasts of the Southern Wild

Finally saw this movie and I was blown away. I liked the magical realist aesthetic and world where supernatural events and ancient aurochs appear after the storm (allegory for Hurricane Katrina and the destructive impact on the environment of Louisiana?), and the young protagonist is played by an adorable, talented child. It's interesting how it's never revealed what happened to her mother, but the focus on her relationship with her father was, I suppose, another example of the coming of age story, where this child learns to be an adult by dealing with her father's death. Also, I liked how the residents of the small town in the bayou flee from the refugee center, where it seems like they're being forced against their will and treated like caged animals, although they were treating the protagonist's father.

I suppose part of the magic of this film is it does seem to come out of the imagination and perspective of Hushpuppy, who speaks to her dead and gone mother as well as animals, somehow remembers every single time she was lifted by another person (including her infant years, an example of magic realism), and refers to places as "Bathtubs" and otherwise weaves the adult world with her own fantasty and imagination. I suppose the film also had a lot to say about the environment regarding global warming, how we're destroying the planet and ourselves, and the propensity of humanity to oppress humanity (children bossed around and subject to abuse, the people of Hushpuppy's town pushed around by the government).

I particularly enjoyed the odd but touching scene aboard a ship with 'strippers' who act motherly and dance with the children who accompany Hushpuppy, especially the waitress who Hushpuppy asks to be her mother but ends up carrying her on her shoulder and dancing. Quite moving and adorable, though the sequence seems to have no connections to the 'real' world...magical realism! Oh, and they played some nice old-time jazz, "Until the Real Thing Comes Along," which was fun to hear.

What did you think of the film? What about it spoke to you? Surprisingly, race was a seemingly insignificant factor in the Bathtub. Do you think that reflects more of the white crew and writers and directors involved in the project, or something that seems more accurate in the worldview of a young girl? Also, it was difficult not to think of Biblical parallels in the Noah story with the flooded Bathtub, as well as the symbolic importance of water as a life-saving force, and a cause of death and destruction. Isn't the performance of the cast, mostly people with no experience in acting but from the communities portrayed in the film, profoundly real amidst the magical realism of Hushpuppy's world? The film's authenticity and message align well with the coming of age story, facing your fears, and Hushpuppy's (and her community's) connections to the land they call home, regardless of the extreme poverty they experience.

Still, part of me recalls Obama's harsh review of Black Orpheus for romanticizing the poverty of Afro-Brazilians from a favela to paint a magical world of vivid colors, bossa nova, samba, Carnival, and mythology.