If Pregnant With Twins Is Implantation Heavier

first moments


Your geography then became a refuge for biodiversity intense emotional. Just the two, what else was missing from this space filled with time?
With peace, I explore my fingers settlers as invaders jealous of your warm surface now free of purity. Remote control of light, could be viewed as eternal stretched and wet. Out of all quiet, throbbing in your area by way of mourning, bright pearl velvet covering your whole being, elevating and encogiéndote like a breath. It was quiet after the chaos in that dimension that I never accepted as a modest and finally I made my own on you, on the ground and on my principles. What I can tell you about the very moment, pure poetry. Dream, reviewed, and masturbated as often imagined. Chewed, dilated, tampered with, altered, reinvented so many others. Finally executed with grace and rhythm. Details: missed a glance, a moment of eye contact. Largely absent. Hence I conclude that triumphed over physical chemistry in this combustion. Lacked soul, but in no way altered this the result, at least for me. I'll take your silence elusive, tight lips, lids adjusting your eyes, as if to protect it from a second stab. No matter now, even if I nail you with his eyes, just got to nail you with what I wanted. Like nails in my neighborhood, in your walks, our first words and especially in your future, that he will stay with us today. Now my fingers are walking without any sign of you. Adapted to the climate, review and record the second to feed both live memories safe whenever we close our eyes. That will be our union, reborn a dream every night and although we are physically separated, never forget you and the best thing you can not forget. No, do not forget this brand.
do not have to mourn, it's my first time, but I confess I might have been different if he had not had to force you.

...

My Own Design A Helmet

Continental Great Authors: José Donoso

often say that Chile is a land of poets, we can not deny the fruitfulness of the lyrics on our borders, but names such as Manuel Rojas and Juan Emar in the forefront, Jose Donoso as a representative and biographer of the boom and aen Eltit Diamela recent years as one of the most interesting of the new postmodern American narrative, support the conclusion that the clipped prose and therefore, it is fair to mention these figures and do not reduce the prospects of our literature to a mere genre .

This time, I want to live José Donoso (Chile 1924-1996) , and although he was no longer with us materially, will remain one of the most interesting and influential names in the novel in Chile and why not say it in Latin America. We usually

frame to the boom in insurance limits: The Green House , One Hundred Years of Solitude and Rayuela, but what about the Cuban Guillermo Cabrera Infante, the Mexican Carlos Fuentes and of course our compatriot, the Scriptwriter intruder. His magnum opus, The Obscene Bird of Night, is a monumental novel, labyrinthine coral as it was defined. With it invites us to destroy these determinants and preconceived frameworks. Provides us with majesty, with a cruel portrait yet sublime of our social and human identity.

Stocks

fragmented watchful eyes that break the struggle for individuality and found mutations in each atmosphere plagued by otherness. Power, obsessions, fears, frustration. It is a novel world as Balzac intended, but in a more exotic than French. Donoso here no stereotypes or human figures defined by their work or mere social position, but psychology, pathology revealing much of the Chilean , pattern or pretentious farm that boasts of its name or hidden behind appearances. We know the orphan, the peripheral, the loyal employee and lineages bastards who are swindled.

is very easy to get lost and found in the pages of this book, its five hundred sheets are as baroque and mannerism as the mind of the author and the corridors of the House of the Incarnation of Chimba scenario that takes place mostly this piece. It brings together the author's life experience, prior stroke the path with the place without boundaries, and Coronation Sunday. His ghost vessels that communicate with the lumpen bourgeoisie through the servants but richly tinged with elements of mythology and Genesis. To that extent, how can we forget the Rinconada and hydrocephalic population of giants, dwarfs empratrices obese women. Donoso defies the canons, intellect and aesthetic scheme of the reader.

In his hands, the allegories of verticality tyrannical boil and sexuality and its variants, allow us to question the problem of roles, what is feminine and masculine? What causes the deviations and the violent misogyny, homoeroticism, ambiguity and cancellation of the body. The images eventually turn into beautiful nightmares or bad dreams disastrous death as he preferred to call them. This amount brings forth a cosmogony of aberrant creatures and new myths to redefine the unconscious ideology and symbols of our past that will define the paths of the future.

Y como hombre, qué podemos decir. Donoso no negó jamás su condición de burgués. Muchos lo criticaran por eso, hiriéndolo desde el partidismo o la voz comprometida. Similares críticas recibieron Unamuno y los noventa y ochistas. Como en el caso de los españoles, su compromiso fue siempre con la literatura, su arma y portento. Y en lo relativo a su posición privilegiada, creo que hay que indagar mejor en su biografía y ver como trazó su camino de forma personal y consciente, basado en su trabajo y no en el apellido y tradición. El cual aprovecho, pero en un sentido opuesto. Él fue el primero en hurgar los trapos sucios y mitos en torno a su casta. In Coronation House and on Sunday, openly bare her own lineage and from that point, the operator does not hesitate to extend the task to all around him, including himself and of course Chile, the continent and I dare say even the world.

For him, we are in a pot bastard that all fed back so we mixed, harmful, well-meaning, because, tragically, giving rise to unrelated discourses, identities mutilated human puzzle that we try to split, to categorize and framing for fear of shame, to look at the trial and shame. But how to achieve truth and not suffer the reproach of our conscience, if truth is that chastity and self-imposed white, but a chaos and millions of self contradictory.

Its main trip is then toward nudity, the term of repression and disambiguation in each area of \u200b\u200bthe body and mind. In the meantime we just stamps and frustrated projects.

that extent I think that Donovan, as his friends as defined boom, the most literary of literary was also the most committed, perhaps not politically but socially and psychologically with man. Since its activity, which made up the last of his days, boasting of living in each of his creations blind adventure of self discovery and loss, he paleo any bias and image and proved to be a project more than his fictions that we rethink how precarious reality.

Author: Daniel Rojas P.

Audio Processing Disorder Portland

Loans: Alejandro Zambra read" Poems of a novelist " Jose Donoso.

One afternoon in 1987 someone forgot two books of José Donoso in the cab of my uncle Fidel. In that I involuntarily bookcrossing reading, twelve, "The garden next door," a beautiful novel bitter and bitter and then I found others. Rather than follow the story of Julio and Gloria look at me like lovers Magritte on the cover, which pooled their faces covered by white sheets carefully, or review, on the first page, uneven ink a blue ring that said "High School British Library." It is late to return the novel to the British High School. Public

Mercury

By Alejandro Zambra

"Poems of a novelist, in any case, the other book left at the Peugeot 404, not belong to any library, and it interested me more than The garden next door. When the natives knew only fragments of Neruda and Gabriela Mistral, and had not even heard the names of Rimbaud or Baudelaire - I found the poems of Donoso, I read and reread with keen interest. Did not understand, but I drew, especially the dry language, strange that suddenly appeared: "Open your mouth, / say, ask, tell / is closed entirely." That

dryness was actually a form of modesty, reverence: but Donovan had read with care Pound and Eliot , still conceiving of poetry as a genre of autobiographical as a confession, more or less hidden in the rhythm. Talk about travel, museums, family memories, from a tentative, problematic: it is as if poetry were placed against the wall to the omniscient narrator, forcing him to star in the comedy of privacy difficult. Poems of a novelist is not a book of youth, quite the contrary, meets mainly mature writings, according to Donovan in the foreword explains, were born "as overcrowded shelter to the density of my novels." Also in the foreword, the author slips this statement to say the least unusual for a book of poetry: "I do not want to be a poet. Poetry seems a frighteningly serious task, solo final, essential, and essences, so stark and unforgiving, not my vocation. "It's a bit absurd to read the poems of a poet who does not want to be a poet. Much of the effect of his verse, however, comes precisely this denial: we read texts that Donovan would not write, he published not to continue correcting, read poems in which, except for some points of leakage, no poetry.

difficult to accommodate in fiction to autobiography is the potential value of the poems of Donoso. It is unfair to compare "the place no limits", "The Obscene Bird of Night" or "cottage" style with defeat Poems representing a novelist. But for a reader who reached the door Donoso service this comparison becomes inevitable. I do not know if their poems are better than Manuel Rojas , for example, although both storytellers share an essentialist conception and too respectful of poetry.

rare library where Rojas Donoso and they are poets, he continues, in reverse, in the narratives of Huidobro and Neruda novelist novelist or near "The inhabitant and hope" and "Cat in the way" , the lone story Nicanor Parra published when antipoetry invented yet.

The list goes on: "The time of suspicion" of Teófilo Cid, the puzzling fictions Rosamel Valley, "puppet", the "nouveau roman" that Gonzalo Millán wrote in times of personal relationship. Storytellers in the anthology of the university, in 1959, meanwhile, Armando Cassigoli commitment storytellers of the future: at the Poli Delano, Cristian Huneeus, Charles Morand or Antonio Skarmeta appear filmmaker Patricio Guzman The critic Red Grinor , and two storytellers that sooner or later abandoned fiction Oscar Hahn, who include a perfect story, and Jorge Teillier , author of a very good story and could not be more laric. I almost beyond Juan Emar, Braulio Arenas, Alfonso Alcalde Claudio Giaconi and , who not only wrote "difficult youth" but also "The collapse of the West", a book of poems that I often remember these verses: "The important thing is not the first communion / but the last."

Unlike the case of Enrique Lihn , it was not a poet-narrator or storyteller-poet, but an entire literature. The same Bolaño, whose poems appear written by the characters in his narrative. Milan Kundera in The Curtain, said that novelists are born "from the ruins of his lyrical world" and perhaps Bolaño's work realizes this distance. The double militancy Bolaño Lihn and in any case, responds to a mixed idea of \u200b\u200bwriting, the need to build a multi-position: personal, social, political, literary. By contrast, even at their most confessional, Donoso Donoso is careful: describe, accurately, scenarios, objects, but prefers to portray in a group, accompanied by his characters, crouched in a corner of the image. Just as in "The Garden next door "autobiographical illusion is replaced eventually by a sophisticated set of mirrors," Poems of a novelist "denies both the poet and novelist.

However, faced with the uniform language of the eighties, the poetry of José Donoso little seemed new and mysterious: "The stain faded / wall. / Just you and me / We know what it was that wall / before stain. / How we were, / you and me, or without knowing that the stain / discoloration is a watercolor / can not remember? ". Passenger insurance in 1987 that diverted much missed your copy of "The Garden of the side" the "Poems of a novelist." Luckily, as I said Enrique Lihn, nothing slips.

How To Drive The Motorcycle Poptropica

José Donoso's legacy to future generations Chilean

José Donoso's legacy to future generations Chilean

Carlos Franz

met José Donoso For nearly a quarter century in April 1977. He lived in Spain and went to Santiago for a few days to give a lecture at the Institute Binational Culture. I went to get his autograph on my copy of Thou hast broken Coronation. I took to tell her that I wanted to be a writer. And I was drowned in Chile, stifled by the narrowness of the country into a dictatorship, I mentioned that I wanted to go to travel to collect experience then I served as literary material ... He asked me how old I was. It said 18. She stared at me with his eyes celestial embedded deep into the thick optical lens. Those eyes of writer lit by a perpetual curiosity. Finally, he shrugged and said,

-I was about your age when I left my home for the first time. I went to Punta Arenas in search of literary adventure. I worked on a ranch. And I got bored and oyster ... All I remember of that stay was that I read in the afternoons, freezing to death, the first volumes of In Search of Lost Time , by Marcel Proust. Reading is what works for one writer concluded by saying "much more than travel ...

I was perplexed. Had sought advice and gave me the paradoxical clubbed on the head of the Zen masters. Donoso, who had spent half his life outside of Chile, if roaming the world, told me not to move my chair reader. What the hell he meant!

But time has elapsed. 23 years have passed since he died. I have traveled, and I've read. And little by little I have been understanding that Donovan wanted to tell me something deeper and less arbitrary than it seemed his advice. I wanted to tell me that if I wanted to be a writer, artist, was the same as I travel or stay. I could not foresee or plan, could not turn my experience looking for a biography useful because art does not stop train and comes where you least think. Surge of life and imagination flat fever of the Bronte sisters, for example, or desktop Franz Kafka's lawyer, or doctor consultation Ferdinand Celine. The art program is not, nor is chosen, the only thing you can do is wait with open eyes. And if you kill the threat while bored, read a lot, reading, live reading.

This initial story, with all its ambiguity and ambivalence as Donoso, perhaps illustrates some of José Donoso's relationship with the two topics it below: aesthetic legacy and how he passed this heritage to the emerging generation in Chile.

Donoso's legacy to the emerging generation can be examined from two perspectives, in my opinion. One is the vehicle used to convey Donoso that legacy. This vehicle was the direct contact with several writers of the emerging generation, mainly during the 80's when it ran his literary workshop in Santiago. The other perspective is the analysis of aesthetic content of this legacy, which later try.

idle may not be clear that I look at these two perspectives, there is a academic or a critic, but of a writer who was and is subject to that influence Donoso as a member of that generation.

But before discussing these two perspectives, it seems necessary to outline, even, what is the Chilean pop generation, which would influence exercised Donoso.

The emerging generation

The most complete critical work to date on the new narrative Chile, I know, is the work of Professor Rodrigo Cánovas: "The Chilean novel: the approach of orphans" (Cánovas, 1997). In his work, Cánovas distinguishes three basic categories within the emerging generation of storytellers, which I mention below:

There is a current known as advertising imagination. Generally very young storytellers who collect American cultural logo consumer society, some as satirical, others without criticism or mediation. The fish directly from the satellite, we could say, to a literature marked for receiving the rock, the burgers and mall in Latin American middle class to teleconsumo newborn. Its most interesting and prominent in Chile, which became known above all with an anthology of Latin American trend called Mac Ondo are Alberto Fuguet and Sergio Gómez.

There is a second stream, marked by an imagination that this critic has called serialized. That is, stories from subgenres such as pink, the police or the adventure story, make the Latin American proposal of a narrative segments serving readers clearly determined. A true story of adventure and noir, represented by Luis Sepulveda, or emotional identification literature generally followed by a female audience, as it spreads very popular Marcela Serrano are the most popular trends.

Finally, a third variant, which has been called poetic imagination. Lyric has nothing, but it is grounded primarily in the language and dialogue with the literary traditions, especially in Europe. In this imagination, in Chile, could place a cutting-edge proposals Diamela Eltit, the parodic Jaime Collyer, the neonaturalistas Arthur Fontaine, the existential Gonzalo Contreras. And also the recent work of Alberto Fuguet, such as the red ink novel.

The emerging generation to which I refer is primarily the latter encompassed by imagination. Trend within the country is called New Chilean Narrative which is which, in my opinion, there is more directly influenced by Donoso. Influence, as I said, was exercised mainly through the literary workshop founded by returning to Chile. And that was embodied in a poetic writing promoted at the art workshop.

basically integrate this trend are those who grew up in internal exile, and we became storytellers in the country under the dictatorship of Pinochet. Author of about 40 years, more or less, which emerged into the open with the return of democracy to Chile, a decade ago, and several of whom went through the workshop of José Donoso. Among those who later would stress I want to acknowledge Jaime Collyer, Arthur Fontaine, Gonzalo Contreras, Roberto Brodsky, Alberto Fuguet, Sonia Montecino, Marco Antonio de la Parra, Dario Oses, Sergio Marras, and several others too numerous to mention.

Literary Workshop is just that, as José Donoso vehicle used to bring his legacy to the Chilean pop generation, which is that first view I mentioned at the beginning analysis. And so it is worth recalling the genesis and operation of that workshop.

Birth workshop

When Donovan returns permanently to Chile in 1980, decides start a writers' workshop, probably thinking he had directed in the Writers Program at the University of Iowa, years earlier. To that end gets a NGOs active in the period, the Academy of Christian Humanism, under the Archbishopric of Santiago, sponsor and fund the workshop. Thus, Donovan scored two important purposes: to get under one of the few Chilean institutions capable of resisting the penetration of the dictatorship, as was the Catholic Church, and second effect is very unusual in this type of course, the workshop was totally free, so the selection of him was based solely on literary merit.

The call was made by a notice in the newspapers. A small commercial classified ad that read something like: "writer Jose Donoso has returned to the country and start writing workshop. Limited vacancies. Interested applicants should call ... ". It seemed the advice of a doctor notifying her distinguished clientele who have returned to town and reopen its inquiry.

For my part, I applied with a short piece of fiction and the very low literary curriculum of my 21 years. I was sure I could not be selected. Occurred to me that all Chileans would storytellers and naturally line to get a perfect stranger, with a few scattered stories in magazines such illegal, would have no chance. To my surprise, a few weeks later I received a call telling me Donoso himself to introduce me at home ... I was selected along with 7 other writers to integrate its initial group which would work for four years. I remember the excitement of that moment like it was yesterday.

To imagine what this opportunity meant for a young aspirante a narrador, y así entender mejor lo que pudo ser la influencia de Donoso sobre la generación emergente, hay que recordar lo que era el Chile de entonces. El Chile dictatorial, aislado, donde a duras penas sobrevivían algunas librerías y prácticamente ninguna editorial. Un país en el cual la censura previa a los libros imperaría por decreto durante casi diez años, hasta marzo de 1983. Un país el cual jamás visitaban los grandes maestros del boom latinoamericano, omitiéndonos en sus giras, castigándonos por parejo a todos sus habitantes, por culpa del dictador. En esa época, entonces, acercarse a nuestro novelista internacional más famoso, entrar en su casa, era como ganarse un premio mayor, as if suddenly I had the fortune telling called the dream of being a writer was possible ...

In the next ten years, throughout the eighties, interrupted only by occasional trips abroad Donoso, passed through this literary workshop and were in its sphere of influence for a longer or shorter time More than forty writers.

A typical workshop session

The workshop functioned Galvarino Gallardo on the street in the neighborhood of Providence, in effect, is a hand "providential" in everything, "on Tuesdays from 6 to 8 pm. We arrived one by one from different parts of the city, we identified through the intercom and climbed to the studio in the attic. In the atmosphere of accusation and suspicion that existed in Chile at that time, anyone would have said we looked like a cell of conspirators. And in a way we were: we practiced a kind of resistance that power could not detect and yet refuted it. The workshop worked as if there were no dictatorship. I think it may have been the only private place Santiago, where they met more than two people without getting to talk immediately about the emergency painful policy then. There was talk of literature, authors can not be read or compromised less subversive: Henry James, Marcel Proust. This weekly exercise passive resistance, literary, and spiritual history that we had played, I think we scored a background for some of us. The power could be discussed in our land and our weapons, our victory would lead to excellence, the act of writing. As said in that same time the poet Enrique Lihn : because I wrote because I wrote I'm alive ...

In this workshop, we celebrate a birthday with Pepe Donoso. We set him a "coronation" with seven other students. We sang happy birthday and we put a crown of fantasy. The nine locked in attic that provide in paper cups. That was the birthday party of José Donoso, 82 or 83. Then we disbanded before twelve o'clock, to fast, because there was a curfew and state of siege in Chile.

Without dreams imagine, that was partly underground near the origin and very private, of what would later be called the New Chilean Narrative.

A typical workshop session developed more or less as follows. Every Tuesday were read aloud two stories, copies previously distributed in the previous week for everyone to read and bring them. The participants would sit in a circle wildly on a chaise longue red velvet where "the teacher" used daily nap or on cushions on the floor. Donoso always been a typical Chilean wicker chair with a big back that gave a semblance of real turkey with its tail fanned. Although his attitude could not be less than that of a real turkey. He spoke little and rarely made categorical statements, but rather raised questions, open questions. Stammered perplexities. Let us speak, take turns expressing our views on the respective story and suddenly interrupted asking you developed over a period. It was not uncommon for taking advantage of this laissez faire contest that any of us his few statements, and it was not uncommon Donoso kickback and reformulate his opinion in the heat of this debate. Over the years I have come to believe that the Socratic method and paradoxical making workshop, Donoso have derived in part from his many hours of psychoanalysis. Hours where the analyst is silent, listen, ask questions, and suggests routes for self-reflection, self-discovery. Of course the big difference is that an analyst Donovan did not charge for their sessions.

the end of each reading our stories Donoso used to summarize their impressions and formulate their own opinion on the text, guided in part by reading his notes, written on the back of their respective copy-and partly by what he had heard. Theirs is a typical view is that I remember a story about me that did not like it too. After removing their defects for a quarter of an hour, concluded by saying, "It may not matter so much defects, because you can tell the story it hurts, that gives you pangs of wadding" . And he made the gesture of the prominent belly rubbing their paws with a white ... This is the kind of thing a young writer, at least to me, we were recorded: how important are the cramps. The important thing is that history is not merely a formal exercise of skill or style but is connected to deep layers in the psyche of the writer, to areas of mismatch of personality or as we shall see ahead to what Donovan called zones, " crack. "

Donoso That comment about the cramps in my story, so isolated, it may seem insignificant. But over four years of the workshop was joining many other small and large observations, constituting what might be called a poetics of narrative writing Donoso.

Because the judge direct the legacy key members of that workshop, and indirectly in other writers of the emerging generation, I will summarize in broad strokes that poetics of artistic fiction, which brought Donoso to Chile in the early eighties.

The legacy: a poetics of artistic writing

autonomy of fiction

The basic postulate Donoso poetics, the workshop was the autonomy of fiction . The idea that the novel is a parallel reality, independent of reality autocontextuada, if you will excuse the paradox. Or as Donovan himself said in his foreword to the novel's Shipyard Juan Carlos Onetti (Onetti, 1971, p. 13):

... the ghosts of that book so admired: "... illustrate something of the story is not outside but inside it, notes that no truths and meanings located outside the novel, but in its course, the experience of reading and become captivated by that other reality fictional parallel to the reality and to be parallel, never touch it ".

The other

This autonomy to the death of fiction, which Donoso preached in his workshop, but did not close itself, but another idea was met by this author dearly: the narrative as an invitation to reader deep into the other . notion of otherness in his essay that makes personal history of boom (Donoso, 1987, p. 18) with these words: "the novel more than any other form, mobilizes beings to fulfill fantasy rarely achieved, if they are not ".

The Rift

In turn, this passion for otherness tore a very Donoso notion, the idea of \u200b\u200b Fissure , already mentioned earlier. That is, the writer and artist in general is to be marked by a defect, a deep imbalance in his personality, by a cleft , and it is this rift which allows the oblique view of reality essential to the artistic look. In his book Conjectures memoirs memory of my tribe (Donoso, 1996, p. 17), Donovan says: "from the beginning I realized that everything was in the inheritance of a fissure, a blunder that destroyed the superficial perfection of every vision ..." . To Donoso this "crack" was first and foremost a personal experience, expressed a sense of social and psychological maladjustment, which just pushed him to doubt the given reality, and scribes sought his backhand, his otherness.

I think the idea of \u200b\u200bcracks such as exhibited in their comments Donoso workshop was particularly attractive to young people deeply fissured , separated from our reality, as we were aspiring writers in Chile under Pinochet. The irrationality surrounding impelled us to find your keys in our own irrationality, passing through the fissure, that imperfection ours.

identity between forms and themes

As the classic dilemma between forms and themes, aesthetic position Donoso was a paradoxical effort of synthesis: a way that was both his theme. A typical sentence in the exercise of his workshop was: "Matter and Form: the clay and the hand that shapes it to become one and the same thing " (Fontaine, 1997). Or as he says in his personal history of boom "Inventing a language, a way to make the act of witchcraft to make a literature that does not clarify anything, that does not explain, but is itself question and response, investigation and outcome, executioner and victim, costume and disguise ". (Donoso, 1987, p. 40):

think in

page

Autonomy fiction, knowledge of the other, cracking and identity between form and substance ... All these concepts put forward by Donovan in his shop would seem to indicate, in the form was ambiguous, we instill a notion of the writer Dionysian artist, as a purely intuitive. Yet we did know Donoso session to session that he was a fervent supporter of the architectures, patterns, extreme arguments of intellectual precision. How to call irrational, without abuse, In Search of Lost Time to The Sound and the Fury to Ulysses? Yes, it is clear that the narrator intuits artist not only also develops, he thinks, he told us. But his is a thought that occurs in page.

Commenting on the impact meant to him, reading the Air is Clear, Donoso said, always in his personal history of boom (Donoso, 1987, p. 42) Carlos Fuentes tries there an intellectual synthesis of Mexico, but "... synthesis made, not, as hitherto, before the writer put in writing, but on the immediacy of the page itself ".

contemporary incarnation of

The autonomy project for fiction, a writer, artist, or aestheticism, at first glance seem inconsistent with the approach to the contemporary, that is usually done through their issues and their deeds.

However, Donovan said in his studio that the artist often writer who best captures the spirit of his time. Donovan himself was a writer interested in the world and in the present. I loved those This very brief metaphors which are the tastes, fashions. Moreover, I wanted a work that out herself like a trend.

resolved Donoso How, then, the dramatic relationship of the writer artist seeks total independence, even of his era, while contemporary want?

Donoso us at the workshop suggested that the dilemma can be resolved by the idea of \u200b\u200b embodiment of the contemporary. The current must be embodied in a work likewise, I add, that embody fashion, dressed and made-trasvisten-no, the spirit of an era.

Quoting Donovan's personal history of boom (Donoso, 1987, p. 89): "Certainly one of the most exciting experiences that can provide a work of art is that embodies contemporary, it does not make ".

ideal reader

turn, Donoso us in his workshop suggested that those embodiments of the contemporary art in the novel, are aimed at a reader also very contemporary, but ideal.

formulated Let's see how the point. In an interview I did in 1994, I said (Franz, 1994): "I want to be visible, I want to be accessible. I do not write for critics, I still want the reader to read to me sensible and intelligent on a plane to China ". And in his personal history of boom (Donoso, 1987, p. 69), says: "The reader common in Latin America was now more sophisticated ".

What is important here is that the traveler on the plane was an unknown reader, anonymous, faceless, age, sex, social class or accurate. And when Donovan mentioned the Latin American audience, he alluded to the "common reader"-a more abstract ideal. Surely, the reader who thought Donoso is that faceless being but which we know intimately, that we ourselves, the writers, when we read. One of the verses of Baudelaire: "Thou hypocrite reader, my fellow man, my brother ".

Donoso used to remind us in the studio this fundamental distinction made by André Gide: "There are works that create an audience and there are works that are created by the public" . The ideal reader, ultimately, the public is invented by the literary work itself, that is, those who discover that they needed the book only when reading it.

I sumariamante the concepts outlined in my memory and experience formed the core of aesthetic legacy Joseph Donoso made us in his workshop and spread through their contacts with other authors of the emerging generation. To summarize, these were: Autonomy of fiction, search for the other; crack, think about the page identity between form and theme; embodiment of the contemporary ideal reader.

But a tense poetic

However, to make things more complicated, more ambiguous, more Donoso in short, I Donoso said the outset that was not completely faithful to the poetry he preached in his workshop and I've outlined above. In fact, this was a tense poetic . There was a crack between his discourse and practice that would sneak an extra perplexity to members of the emerging generation who were in its sphere of influence.

What happened is that Donohue found in the workshop, on his return to Chile in 1980, was one that was experiencing a gradual mutation in their aesthetic positions of the sixties and seventies. This mutation would lead to the stage that criticism (Hugo Achugar) has called unfulfillment to a realization of greater contact with reality, or less autonomy from fiction to use the terms outlined above.

In my opinion, the crucial fact in this progressive shift was the 1973 military coup in Chile. Thereafter, and particularly since his return to Santiago during the dictatorship, Donoso will experience increased expressive power derived from the political urgencies of the situation in Chile and Latin America that are beginning to move to the forefront of his subsequent works. Tension transmitted to us in the workshop and therefore is also part of his legacy. A legacy ambivalent, ambiguous, as I said.

Donoso aesthetics This voltage means a shift from his poetry developed during the sixties and seventies to new positions that will include post-modernism and realism more traditional stamp, as opposed to some avant-garde the previous stage.

Although the second stage, the realization , beginning with House, for the purposes of his legacy to Chilean emerging generation, it seems to me that this phase is represented mainly by Despair, his novel of 1986, which is written precisely in the middle of the decade during which we did workshop.

It will be recalled Hopelessness is a novel sui generis within the sui generis trajectory so Donoso. This is a political play in which themes and motifs interwoven Donoso, forming a curious piece of sociological absurdity. A kind of neo-realism typical, in which the characters of moral ground side by side with Chilean political underworld. The important thing here is that when writing this novel, Donoso resignation, or rather relative, many of the tenets of his poetry as taught in the workshop. For one thing, the fiction autonomy is relative because it is a novel with a clear political goal: to portray evil and expose the background of the Chilean dictatorship. Similarly, the reader is not the ideal but that the novel seeks to impact and inspire readers to specific time, providing an ideological tool of resistance in the political contest. Also, the aesthetic is not exactly in the knowledge of the other But in the recognition of a collective identity, exemplified in the great march of protest, which closes the volume. Finally, the book is not written from the crack , but rather from the integration of the author's great side of the victims and their residents. I could go on showing how Donoso in this work, and several others of the time, is unfaithful to the basic tenets of his poetry, which is to say that was true to himself and his continuous creative search.

was at this turning of unfulfillment to a realization that we met Donovan when he returns to Chile, and founded his workshop. And this influence will be mixed, ambiguous, essentially Donoso, which will influence the emerging generation who went through it.

In my opinion, Collyer, Contreras, Fontaine, Fuguet, de la Parra, and I will try a narrative whose assumptions, its basic objective is the pursuit of modern aesthetic as delineate Donoso his poetry (freedom of fiction, etc. . ), but abandoning the formal end that characterized in the seventies, and moving the testing to the realm of psychological, historical or psychological (the psyche affected by the story.)

regard, I wish to conclude by recalling one of the typical phrases that powerfully ambiguous Donoso heard more than once in his workshop. A phrase that may be expressive of all these tensions between censorship and creativity that we live both he and his students at that time: "Can not find the hours of the end of this dictatorship once again to write a psychological novel" .

Bibliography

• Cánovas, Rodrigo, 1997. "The Chilean novel: the approach to the orphan, Santiago, Editorial Universidad Católica de Chile.
• Donoso, José, 1987. "Personal History of the Boom, Santiago, Editorial Andrés Bello.
• Donoso, José, 1996. "Conjectures on the memory of my tribe", Santiago, Editorial Alfaguara.
• Fontaine, Arturo, 1997. "Donovan in his workshop", Madrid, Revista Letra International No. 52.
• Franz, Charles, August 1994. "Joseph Donoso, mortal ', Mexico, Revista Nexos.
• Onetti, Juan Carlos, 1971. "The Shipyard." Foreword by José Donoso. Barcelona, \u200b\u200bEditorial Salvat.

Rotohex -art Style- [wiiware

The Scriptwriter intruder

The Scriptwriter intruder, José Donoso by Vicente Lastra Review of a book that deserves its reissue

This remarkable compilation work was conducted by journalist Cecilia MA García Huidobro, who in the past, we were pleasantly surprised with the publication of interviews and forgotten texts and Joaquín Vicente Huidobro Edwards Bello. Vaya entonces nuestro reconocimiento para una labor que, sin lugar a dudas, se afianza en el rescate de los sólidos edificios de la literatura chilena.

El volumen analizado en esta oportunidad, posee el agregado de contar con un prólogo nacido de la siempre erudita pluma del novelista mexicano Carlos Fuentes, uno de los entrañables amigos generacionales de José Donoso.

Antes de avanzar en nuestro comentario, repararemos en el prefacio escrito por Fuentes para la presente obra -pieza de indudable factura- que nos entregará mayores luces al instante de observar el itinerario de Donoso en el mapa de las letras hispanoamericanas. En el citado exordio, titulado “José Donoso: Maestro de un irrealismo prodigioso”, the author of The Death of Artemio Cruz ponders the art of using national writer of the following words: "However, no one went beyond the limitations of the immediate past and planted a banner in the realm of the imagination with more apparent ease that the most literary all the writers of the "boom", the Chilean José Donoso. No one made more apparent the rigid social hierarchies of Latin America, the cruelty of the class system in Chile. But no one also felt the terrible evidence of injustice to a more corrosive literary imagination. Donohue chose a territory, the Chilean society and destabilized from within by the suspicion that nothing is what it seems and everything is on the verge of becoming something different. Costumes, homonyms, organ transplantation: Donoso transvestites are the outward signs of a deep and fierce anarchist rebellion, but subject to a rigorous use of literary methods. Donoso's novels are written under the twin signs of destruction and recreation, the passing of all things, fiction to any alleged status quo, the complete lack of credibility of the face. "

Catalogábamos of "notable" in this book, and not fear falling into the hype: it teaches us the cream of the journalistic production Donoso, who shall as editor of the magazine Ercilla, there in the first half of the sixties. Articles of the most diverse nature, chronic around Chile and interviews with conspicuous characters of the last century, among them the poet Ezra Pound, "make up a volume that was needed between the studies devoted to unraveling the creative genius of the author of The Obscene Bird night. In 1998, Cecilia García Huidobro had already published a selection of items from the same Donoso baptized articles uncertain necessity, but those, preferably, had been published by EFE.

The compiler divides the book into seven themes, which are not chronological order or gender. The part with these original designs, "Portrait of a generation", where the litter of 50 Chilean is analyzed through articles on some of its members: Enrique Lihn, Alejandro Jodorowsky and Enrique Lafourcade, "Fans and reserves, highlighting the pleasant conversations with the anti-poet Nicanor Parra and essayist Benjamin Subercaseaux, halfway between the article and the interview, "Some tracks literary, artistic judgments Donoso deploying about contemporary novelists such as Americans John Steinbeck, Norman Mailer, and Europeans Ivy Compton-Burnett, Robert Musil and Isaac Babel; "Ventures in Italy" written germinated after an extensive tour of the peninsula, a journey that allows them the said Ezra Pound and hear the voice of the soprano Maria Callas at La Scala impressive, "Journey to the back of book ", pages mainstream taste and book learning, to record dedicated to the" exile "Fernando Alegría and then Novísima Generation (Juan Agustin Palazuelos, Mauricio Wacquez)," De trades and disappointments, which account for a "profound Chile "in definition of Cecilia García Huidobro and" From the sidelines, insisting that a country seeking is stated in the mountains to avoid falling into the abyss of the ocean.

For reasons of space and of interest to our readers, confine your eyes on the little-known record of the meeting between José Donoso and Ezra Pound, after Brunnenburg the castle, which is built in the Italian Tyrol and never recovered in another publication, except for that comment, "since its initial appearance in Ercilla on 8 March 1961.

From the first line, it is evident respect and admiration for the Chilean he calls "the most influential poet of our time." After recounting the humiliating treatment received by Pound from the U.S. Army in Pisa, and his confinement "Legal" for twelve years in a psychiatric hospital in Washington, Donoso, transcribed in their own language, excerpts from his conversation with Irish descent. Pound attributed to the following sayings: "For me, as I remember, because I read it long ago, Perez Galdos is the most interesting of the English writers. Do not be surprised, as he knows no language, "and can not write a novel without knowing the language as a poet." Asked the reason for their animosity with the Americans, reflects: "I can not forget the war, Roosevelt was a poliomelítico be fooled by Stalin at Yalta, and so gave free hand to invade Europe. I am the son of Erasmus of Rotterdam, Europe, the cradle and source of all civilization. Defend Europe from Russia barbaric, I was defending my country. I am not the traitor, was Roosevelt, who left civilization to Europe and Communism. This is what I wanted to make Americans understand with my radio broadcasts from Rome. He had to beat Russia. Strategy was not a poet. But beat the loan sharks, because usury is the patron saint of the world ...". And about poetry, states: "I do not think that today can write poetry without a great culture. Culture in all fields: politics, mathematics ..., economy, yes, mostly economy. Can not write poetry without knowing the economy, as claimed by a young man poet who visited me recently. What people call "poetic" is not just a mental habit that we have inherited romanticism. We must overcome the romance, get back to a classicism that stage where the language itself, the form, complete in itself a burden of knowledge. That's the inspiration does not exist: the best poems are written in cold. Sometimes it carried in it something of an eternal truth, great. Sometimes, they are not only good exercise, but the good poet must always be able to write good verses, but no significance in terms of content. "

An important section of the book, composed a brief photo album of Donovan in the period of writing of the pages gathered here, taken together highlight Pound Brunnenburg Castle, and one in Rome to accompany the painter de Chirico.

By way of concluding this review, we will say that in his journalistic side, we observe a wholly owned Donoso its narrative powers, which glow the minute detail of the descriptions and a taste for sober and precise language to portray their impressions a complex and evanescent. Recommended reading, we must not forget that we face the intruder Scriptwriter a reporter informal letters, and thus, a manifestation "Different" from a sensibility that privileges the artistic temperament of its essence, not indifferent and distant lens the mere reporting.

• - • - • - • • • • • • - • Lastra Vicente



The intruder Scriptwriter (news, features and interviews) José Donoso

Ediciones Universidad Diego Portales, Santiago, 2004, 382 pages.

Pipes For Dune Buggys

Jose Donoso Jose Donoso Full interview

Orbit Remote Starter Reset

language and fierce transgrendido

José Donoso, El Mocho, novel, 1997

language and fierce transgrendido Jose Donoso

by Iván Segarra Báez

Jose Donoso was born in Chile in 1924 and lived in Spain from 1967 until 1981 when he returned to his country. One of the central figure boom in Latin America, who said when he wrote his wonderful novel " The Obscene Bird of Night ". Received several major awards including Mondello Prize in Italy and the Prix Roger Caillois in France and died in December 1996 without seeing the publication of his latest novel, which we discuss briefly the fragment 16 found on pages 92 to 94 editing Alfaguara.

tour Our analysis in terms of its lexicon and is not just a thorough study. We took the fragments which we have similar taste in literature most successful and logical to go on the text and looking for those keywords they serve and maintain the same text within an intertextuality between docility and marginalization, between sin and trangredidos between tedium and incurable prayer of the word sex, and Antonio Pichito male / Elba whore, without being bitch, that is, beaten and repulsed in their own sexuality.

The fragment begins with multiple keywords will SUBSCRIBE to the text and subtext noting that in addition to the main text is the scene where Antonio Elba and just make love and the woman contemplates her body, sex, release stained with an act is sought by her and which does not enjoy anything, only the male has and enjoys Antonio, she can not move, she must be submissive woman without being a bitch whore like the others, but he wishes to whore in bed, but not a bitch in life, she has to submit his wife thought the thought of the man who dominates everything. The man is master of the cavernous mine being in a sling. For Elba says this fragment when alone at home and the man has not come from the mine. She wanders in her own life, his transgression of a woman raped and wanted, that has a yearning Amanat. The conqueror was ended, And the female victim sexual victimizer becomes the cult that does not show the faces, but bodies and how bodies become objects around which delves into his own thoughts alone and without a husband.

The names of the fragment has a somewhat nostalgic ramblings. Elba could result from Alba, Antonio or tone may be associated with male bull, which ensures its territory and which, the brilliant Don Abelardo Diaz Alfaro wrote one of the greatest stories criollista in Puerto Rico in the 1940 (The Josco), where Ivan and his family, reminds us that emperor of Ivan the Terrible, Aristides and one of the Greek writers of ancient Greece. The text ends when it leaves the twilight. The deep mine is correlated with the night and the characters' lives, their sexuality, marginalization, deprivation, misdirected virginity and lack of culture in an underworld where the phallus, machismo, violence and despair of whores mining undermine the Elbe that can not be Alba and white up to the light, but seeing his body after being outraged in body and soul by Toño (Antonio), who does not respect and who is also a male in all his power, who has prostituted women when they come forward and the woman must accept. But the woman mounts cornelius when it becomes so trangresora and her husband to have a lover, then you feel dirty.

the lexical analysis of the fragment was read as follows:

[Love-body-loosen-slap women whores docility transgression-honda-lover yearning mine-falls-dig- strange-conquering won (she transgresses the man, Antonio invaded by Elba) - circle of female chatter-Antonio-Antonio violent hate-Aristides dirty, filthy and degraded me-the-wishing us both and I accept the contempt I digas'don Elba ' tell me 'my rich Pichito ¨']

Among the language of writing and symbols are thousands of suggestions in this short novel by Jose Donoso, who plunges us into an underworld of depraved culture but that gosoza waving to all the readers from reading the many that can make this latest novel by José Donoso.

Iván Segarra Báez was born in Caguas, Puerto Rico in 1967 has published four books of poetry and two novels. He has traveled to Argentina, France and the United States. It is a English teacher and writer of poetry and narrative.

Premixed Margarita Mix Recipe

Jose Donoso Jose Donoso AND WORLD RECORD OF

Jose Donoso AND WORLD RECORD OF

José Saramago In Review Public Studies, 80 (Spring 2000).


Text of lecture delivered at the symposium "Donoso, 70," organized by the Department of Cultural Programs Division of Culture, Ministry of Education and the Faculty of Philosophy and Humanities at the University of Chile, 5 - October 7, 1994. The conference was subsequently published in the book Donoso, 70 (Santiago: Ministry of Education, October 1997).

I know firsthand what it means sitting, hearing about what we have written, and sometimes feel like saying "I had not thought, but if you say, maybe they're right."

Sometimes we do not like anything we're hearing, because it seems that things are not going there. What I am going to read is not what is usually called an academic. It is a kind of dialogue between writer and writer. I do not know if he would answer, but I would one day know what Jose Donoso think of this writer and fan of yours for years.

He called this "José Donoso and inventory of the world."

"I would like to talk about music, for example, but deep down I feel that it would be frivolous." Judith

this adage to Mañungo in despair in a moment of your journey night by James, during this fantastic night does not end that night that seems to be taking, one after another, every hour lived to not irretrievably lost in the time spent in a single minute. Without thinking, gesture, word, Judith will not talk about music, because one of the world feel these days is just pointless. Eleven years ago is dead Neruda and Matilde Urrutia has also entered the big night, in the silence of the permanent absence.

We are made of words. To silence the word needs to say it. We are born and immediately began to hear sounds and learn how to articulate the word among themselves. Break the silence brain with the first words we utter. After the recreated using them, of course, on paper, is the shadow of them, nothing but the shadow, and only much later discover that the words are, in themselves, music. Later still understand that a book is like a score, and finally that speech is like a melody anxious and inexhaustible. Writing and speaking

fulfill our true aspiration. Although we do not enjoy it, and we are not aware, writing will always reach those who call the vital thing, the supreme moment in which we believe we believe we have explored to the border of the ineffable our resources own personal sonata. But since so many words, music are crossed, and it'll say that many of these words are useless, and that many of these songs do not deserve to be heard. And sometimes yes, sometimes they are. Take a novel

anyone. We can say without looking: here is a hundred thousand words. It is impossible that all are equally necessary that the same degree of need is present in each, and apparently nothing is more certain. But how can we be sure that the words they consider useless or superfluous always will be.

Those six words that say "In a village of La Mancha" are the most famous since the world learned to read and write. However, why will they be less essential than those other Knight of the Sorrowful Figure on page 524 of the thousand edition of Don Quixote? Who can say that those other words of Cervantes, seemingly insignificant, written without concern that satisfy the conflicting logic of a minor episode, would not be for one day to challenge a world of timid people?

The words say more than I ever imagined, and if you do not seem to say at any given time, it's just because they can not, or simply because her hour has come.

Those words of Judith is more than sure that José Donoso wrote them without thinking too much, running out of the pen and they are there. I think you would readily agree that without them, despair would be exactly the same. In fact, what difference would subtract seventeen words of one hundred thousand, say ninety-nine thousand nine hundred eighty-three. I dare to declare that those seventeen words that might be considered superfluous, it could use as an epigraph José Donoso all his work. Because one currency in them a moral conscience urged by the truth.

As in the case of individuals, the decline of social class, by the very ideological and psychological complexity of this decline, only from within can be expressed effectively. An observer strange, very analytical and insightful it is, just be able to describe, it is presumed that with some accuracy, decadent outdoor signs, what still remains of the triumphs of the past, and the experiences and suffering of now, but never going deep mental unease devouring the vital substance in a sick body. And never fear that was generated by the fault and will relentlessly multiplying until it becomes unbearable, to push to suicide. Only aristocrat Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa The Leopard may have written, only the judge Salvatore Satta, know life, passion and death of men and women could have written The Day of Judgement. It was from within ones and others wrote to each one, true testaments of their class of origin. In fact, only in terms of observer provide the complete circularity of truth that is required when writing a paper on the characteristics of a person or a class.

is not news to say that books of Jose Donoso are also in the field of subjective and objective conditions of social and political history of Chile and their classes in the last forty years, a look inside. For this reason, a merciless gaze. The look of someone who knows. The look of those who at no time will subtract from the complacency that usually arranged with all decadence, always easily romanticized, because they are so passionately romantic temperament of the writer, and perhaps, man. I think it's accurate to say that José Donoso exists for our pleasure, the realism of a reason to move directly towards the cool objectivity and romance seizure of a desperate feeling to reality.

The result is to be transcendent and furious work to pay tribute today. I said earlier that the work of José Donoso considered and expressed, by way of art and literature, social and political situation in Chile during the last decades, focusing particularly on their upper and middle classes. Is restrictive in any way put it this way: a work defined by the standards of critical realism grounded, which otherwise finds fulfillment in the book this Sunday. This work, I mean a whole course so defined, would need nothing more to be important, but that dimension will be missing two of vertigo and another potential importance what I mean. Vertigo and significance will therefore be higher evaluative factors that led to the complex work of José Donoso unparalleled character.

However, in this case vertigo does not come from laborious experiments in language plan and that fact does not use Donoso, because it should be noted that what is absolutely revolutionary is his work on the structure on the internal frame. Nor

transcendence must be perceived here as a metaphysical presence or implied of any kind. In Donoso's novels there is no God, or there is at least appointing or invoked. The vertigo and the significance of which I speak are only human, terribly human. Donoso man vertigo is vertigo caused by naked self-observation, while the significance is the look produced by obsessive awareness of their existence.

No wonder, therefore, that atmosphere prevails Donoso distorted narrative, expressionist original course, more important than realistic colors also recognizes his work. The extraordinary novel The Obscene Bird of Night is relative ontological next The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. No matter the crossing told of a work in another, it is displayed and obscene same precipice that fascinates the reader and the viewer just as if about to fall inside a glass infinity turned upside down.

winding corridors, viscous parts, false doors, open windows to the dark, the stairs suspended, Sleepwalkers bedroom of the House of Spiritual Exercises were not put there as a scale model of the human planetary system. Are the same and very short, on. As in a novel by Donoso, the world contains, Chile contains Santiago, Santiago has the house containing the Dopey, Dopey and within no difference between the author and nothing.

When at the beginning of this attempt probably forced him and certainly frustrated me, reciting the words of Judith, I referred to that night that seemed to be taking one after another, every night living, there surfaced what I figure are the main features of the narrative process Donoso. First Instead, what I would call the equalization or fusion of past, present and future into a single unit of time, but a unit that is unstable, slippery.

Second, as a logical extreme, suspension, cessation of time itself, what happens after the arrival Mañungo twilight, until we see the land embraced Judith dead. This can not happen in one night, tell the reader, and judging by appearances, the reader is right. However, we must say the night of Hopelessness is not it a long night and another in which the hours, minutes and seconds are expanding and contracting in the same palpitation, so perhaps intuitive. Or rather, supremely intelligent.

Resolve the contradiction seems to exist between the assessment of content that is recognized at all times greater than their own continent, implies an ambition left in the shadows of Joshua's feat, he did stop the sun to win a battle. José Donoso for the time to take stock of the world.

This would have been the target if a demigod vocation-oriented would not direct expressions of brute force. On the other hand, have reason to believe that the classical Greek world would be much less populated than it is gross the rest. You may ask why this reference has more to do with the mythology and literature.

precisely because the soul of humanity, wherever it has dispersed, inhabits a world not only of nobles and infamous ruins, but remains of mental constructs, a result of the passing of generations, not only of what we call trash and waste, but also from the rubble and the remains of the doctrines, religions and philosophies of ethics that the time spent and became empty, dismantled systems from other systems, and that new systems have been dismantled. Of the tales, fables, legends, of the loves and hatreds, obsolete customs, suddenly denied the convictions, passions that have been killed and then reborn, finally, the remains of God and the remains of the devil, and also the body, do not forget the body, which is the location of all pleasure and all suffering.

beginning and the end, meeting and living with one another in circuits and a half kilo blood and brain.

inventory Donoso house is because the inventory of the world. We have difficulties accessing all acts and words that occur in the few hours they are among a dusk and dawn. I would also say that the house of the Hundred Birds of the Night (however exaggerated it insane that architecture as the doctor's Cabinet Caligari), it would be impossible to build such beings who cover between life and death, of an infinite variety and futility. Animal fat, flat, soft, square, no forms, dozens and hundreds of packages, cartons tied, hidden, balls of string or wool, odd shoes, bottles, dented screen, swimmer cap raspberry, all silky like with flowers that grow in the dust-white, soft, fragile, soft, minimal movement such as blinking or breathing could spread throughout the room, drowning and washing, and then animals that lie in the forms of atadito momentarily tame rag bundles old magazines, trunks and umbrella, coats, caps and boxes, would move to attack.

However, this accumulation is possible only from the perspective of José Donoso relentlessly logical. Under the old boxes and, in the thousand attics of the house, in attics and basements, in closets, under the mountains of rags, and everything is hidden, there is a world that was not inventoried and explain a world of people and remains rotten and had to put all the names, attributes, tell all stocks up beyond exhaustion, and as for that not enough time and many lives, because each add turn remains, his body had no José Donoso choice but to stop time, duration subvert, or stop James and the House simultaneously with the times just around the circuit in the world, to finally get to say that our reader was right, the most to less, the whole universe is present in the second we utter the word.

And now is the moment of vertigo all, when what is above is like what is below, where there is no North, no South, no East nor West, when the eyes look over the parapet and not contemplate more than the absence of myself ... The Last Old, will have no name, because it has always been other- put to death, shoulder bag of a thousand bags, burlap sacking thousand restitched where Dopey was locked up with all the remains of the house, with all traces of the world, and through the city towards the River. Along the river, which is the very image of time that finally begins to move, she sits next to a bonfire that falters in one feeble flame.

Paper, waste, rekindled his fire will not last long. Then the old, perhaps the death, will stand up, grab the bag and open circles in the fire, flame, burn cards, socks, rags, dirt, so what it is, as long as the flame come alive a bit, to feel cold, so what the smell of burning, a burning rags to paper. The wind carries the smoke and odors out, she curls up to sleep on the stones, the fire burns for a while with the deserted as other package contained more than rags, and then begins to extinguish the embers mitigating and ash covering runs very light scattered by the wind. Within minutes there is nothing left under the bridge, only black spot fire left in the stones, and a sack. The wind turns, rolls and falls to the river stones. Sewn and bound on all sides, the sac that Dopey was locked shut is the metaphor of the world itself. When time is set in motion and bag is opened and what it includes is thrown out, ie all resigned learn that life is but a promise of ashes. José Donoso

has done nothing to stop time, why? I can only offer an answer: that Donovan has done just so we thought slowly, very slowly, if we are truly human. Have we thought? Or are we locked into the sack of our own absurdity, waiting for the fire and ashes as he resigned and to life?

If the writer is, as I think, who pursues us with questions, then José Donoso is the largest. For this reason and because of who he is, thank you.

Gmtv Holly Willoughby Birthday Cake

A lady by Jose Donoso

A lady
José Donoso

certainly do not remember when was the first time I noticed his existence. But if I remember correctly, was some winter evening in a tram going through a poor neighborhood.

When I'm bored in my room and my regular conversations, which usually take a tram tour and go unknown for the city. That evening had a book by it if I liked to read but did not open. It was raining sporadically and the tram moved almost empty. I sat next to a window cleaning a gap in the mist of the glass to watch the streets.

not remember the exact moment she sat beside me. But when the tram halted at a corner, I felt that feeling so commonplace and yet, mysteriously, that the saw, the right time and unimportant as it was, had lived before, or maybe dreamed. The scene I found the exact replica of one that I was known: in front of me, a plump neck poured its folds upon a frayed shirt, three or four seats occupied scattered tram at the corner drugstore was a neighborhood with neon sign, and a policeman yawned beside the red box in the darkness that fell within a few minutes. I also saw a knee covered by a green raincoat with my knee.

knew the feeling, and trouble me more than I liked. So, do not bother to inquire into my mind where and how all this happened before. I sent the feeling with a wry smile inside, limiting myself to look back to see what that knee was still covered with a green raincoat.

was a lady. A woman wearing a wet umbrella in hand and a functional hat on his head. One of these ladies in their fifties, of which there are thousands in this city, neither beautiful nor ugly, neither poor nor rich. His regular features showed the remains of a banal beauty. His eyebrows came together more than usual on the arch of the nose, which was the most distinctive feature of his face. I

this description in the light of subsequent events, it was little noticed then the lady. The bell rang, the streetcar left the scene by fading known, and went back to watching the street through the hole to clean the glass. The lanterns were lit. A boy came out of an office with two carrots and bread in hand. The row of low houses stretched along the sidewalk, window, door, window, door, two windows, while shoemakers, plumbers and grocers shops closed their meager.

I was so distracted that I did not notice when my seatmate got off the tram. How could he feel it if after the instant when I looked and I did not think of it?

I did not think about it until the following night.

My house is located in a very different from that for which I take the tram the previous evening. There are trees on the sidewalks and the houses half-hidden behind fences and bushes. It was quite late, and I was tired, and to pass much of the evening chatting with friends with beer and cups of coffee. I walked to my house with his coat collar up very high. Before crossing the street I saw a figure I felt like family, away in the darkness of the branches. I stopped watching for a moment. Yes, it was the woman who was beside me on the tram from the previous evening. As he passed under a street light immediately recognized her green raincoat. There are thousands of waterproof green in this city, but I did not doubt that it was his own, remembering despite having seen only a few seconds that none of it impressed me. I crossed to the other side. That night I slept without thinking of the figure under the trees away the lonely road.

A sunny morning, two days later, I saw the lady in a downtown street. The movement was at its noon peak. Women lined the windows to discuss the possible acquisition of a garment or fabric. The men left their offices with papers under his arm. I recognized her pass back to mixed with all this, though not dressed as in previous times. I crossed a slight surprise as to why his identity had been erased from my mind, mistaking it for the rest of the inhabitants of the city.

Henceforth I began to see the lady very often. He found everywhere and at anytime. But sometimes spend a week or more without seeing her. It occurred to me that perhaps melodramatic deal to follow. But I rejected the finding that it unlike me, I identified in a crowd. To me, however, I liked both perceive their identity between unknown face. I sat in a park and she was crossing carrying a bag with vegetables. I stopped to buy cigarettes, and she was paying his own. Went to the movies, and there was the lady two seats over there. I looked, but I entertained watching. Her mouth was rather thick. He wore a big ring, very vulgar.

Gradually I began to search. The day did not seem complete without her. Reading a book, for example, I was surprised by speculation about Mrs. instead to concentrate on writing. Placed it in imaginary situations in the midst of objects that I know. Beginning to collect data about you, all of no importance and significance. He liked the color green. Some kind of smoked cigarettes only. She was shopping for home meals.

Sometimes I felt such a need to see, who was leaving as I was busy to go and look. And sometimes he found. Others do not, and turned to lock me cranky in my room, unable to think of anything else for the rest of the night.

One afternoon I went for a walk. Before returning home, when it got dark, I sat on a park bench. Only in this city there are places like that. Small and new, like a utility accident in that neighborhood, or prosperous or miserable. The trees were stunted, as if they had refused to grow offended when planted in soil so poor, in a sector as dull and bland. In one corner, a dark soda fountain clarified the figures of three boys who were chatting in the middle of the pool of light. Within a dry sink, which apparently never was finished, he had bricks cracked, fruit peels, paper. Couples just talking on the benches, as if the ugliness of the square is not conducive to privacy.

For one of the paths forward saw the lady on the arm of another woman. They spoke with animation, walking slowly. Passing before me, I heard the anguished tone lady said:

- Impossible!

The other woman put her arm around the shoulders of the lady to comfort her. Surrounding the pool unfinished turned away by another path.

Restless, I stood up and started walking hoping to find them to ask the lady what had happened. But they disappeared from the streets where few people traveled in pursuit of the last chores of the day. I had no peace

the week following this meeting. Walking around town with the hope that the lady got in my way, but never saw it. He seemed to have become extinct, and left all my chores, because I did not have the slightest ability to concentrate. Needed to see her go, just to see if the pain of that evening in the square continued. Frequented sites that Soliera glimpse it stop some people thinking that I fancied her relatives or friends to ask for the lady. But did not know who to ask and let them go. I did not see throughout the week.

The following weeks were worse. I got to feign illness to stay in bed and forget this presence that filled my ideas. Perhaps after several days without leaving suddenly found her the first day and when I least expected. But I could not resist, and left after two days when the lady lived my room at all times. When I got up, I felt weak, physically ill. Still took trams, went to the movies, toured the market and attended a function of a circus outside the walls. The lady did not appear anywhere.

But after some time I saw her again. I was inclined to tie a shoelace and saw the sun pass through street, carrying a big smile on his face and a bunch of mimosa in hand, the first of the season began. I wanted to follow, but lost in the confusion of the streets.

His image faded from my mind after of losing track on that occasion. I returned to my friends, I met people and walked alone or accompanied by the streets. Not that forget it. Their presence, rather, seemed to have merged with the rest of the people who inhabit the city.

One morning, after, I awoke with the certainty that the lady was dying. It was Sunday, and after lunch went for a walk under the trees in my neighborhood. On a balcony an old woman was sunbathing with his knees covered by a furry scarf. A girl in a meadow, painted red garden furniture, ready for the summer. There were few people, and objects and the noises were drawn accurately crisp air. But somewhere in the same city that I walked, the lady was going to die.

went home and I settled into my room to wait.

From my window, I shiver in the breeze lighting wires. The afternoon was slowly maturing beyond the roofs, and beyond the hill, the light was spending more and more. The wires were vibrating, breathing. In the garden someone watering the lawn with a hose. The birds are getting ready for the night, noise and movement filling the tops of the trees he saw from my window. Laughed a child in the garden next door. A dog barked. Instantly

then all noise stopped at once and opened a well of silence in the peaceful afternoon. Wires no longer vibrated. In an unfamiliar neighborhood, the lady was dead. Some home entornaría his door that night, and would burn candles in a room full of voices stay and consolation. The afternoon slipped imperceptibly into a final, shutting down all my thoughts about the lady. Then I must have slept, because I remember more of that later.

next day I saw in the newspaper that the relatives of Doña Esther Arancibia announcing his death, giving the time of the funeral. Could it be? ... Yes No doubt she was.

attended the cemetery, following the procession slowly through the long avenues, including silent people who knew the features and the voice of the woman who felt pain. Then I walked a while under the dark trees, because that sunny afternoon brought me a special peace.

Mrs. Now I think only very occasionally.

Sometimes the idea comes to me in a corner for example, that the present scene is just playing another previously experienced. On those occasions it occurs to me that I will go see the lady, frowning and green raincoat. But it makes me laugh a little, because I saw his coffin lay in the niche in a wall with hundreds of niches all the same.