J.e Luis B.es, The Aleph And Magic Realism-soulseek

Writing To read Jorge Luis Borges -the Argentinean sage- is more than a challenge; it is a losing battle with literary reality because Borges erased the borders between the quotidian, the dream, magic realism, hallucination, and eternity. One can just picture Borges (the man) going to his grave with an impish smile on his lips, thrilled with the knowledge that many of us would endlessly continue to puzzle out the literary tricks of his contrived stories. For example, search as hard as we might, we will never find the 602nd night of the Thousand and One Nights; the night when Scherazade tells a story about herself telling a story in which she also tells a story about-and so on in an infinite regress. We will also attempt to decipher the magic of "The Aleph," the point of all points in which we can see all of creation in an instant; much as God did on the seventh day. In this short story -the Aleph- Borges cites similar ideas about creation, such as the Shield of Achilles in which the entire cosmos is depicted. In a dizzying chaotic enumeration, Borges shares his vision of the cosmos contained in the Aleph: I saw the populous sea, saw dawn and dusk, saw the multitude of the Americas, saw a silvery spider-web at the center of a black pyramid, saw a broken labyrinth (it was London), saw endless eyes…saw a woman in Inverness whom I shall never forget, saw her violent hair, her haughty body, saw a cancer in her breast … saw the circulation of my dark blood, saw the coils and springs of love and the alterations of death, saw the Aleph from everywhere at once, saw the earth in the Aleph … In the end the narrator tells us, "I wept because my eyes had seen that secret, hypothetical object whose name has been usurped by men but which no man has ever truly looked upon: the inconceivable universe." And he continues: "I had a sense of infinite veneration, infinite pity." Next to "The Aleph," I enjoy reading "The Circular Ruins," and "The Garden of Forking Paths." Borges never wrote a novel, for he felt that life is experience in moments and not in spans of time; something that the novel requires. Closer to our times, in my novel The Poison Pill I situate the Aleph in New York City! In a culminating scene the protagonist Ivon Bates, sees and hears all the languages of the world and their convergence into the Adamic language-the language that Noam Chomsky alludes to in all his research. Time, Borges thought, is an illusion; a daring hypothesis with an obvious proof: The Borges (not the man but the character) of "Borges and I," will never get old, will live forever, and in the good .pany of Rabelais, Cervantes, Shakespeare, Thackeray, Unamuno, and Joyce. How can one disprove something that is so palpably true? ]–> About the Author: 相关的主题文章: