Monster Blog Reflection

The primary questions of this course, from what I can tell, have been “what is a monster?” and “why are monsters important in telling Latinx stories?” At the beginning of the semester, my answer to the first question would have been drastically different than my answer now. Many of the monsters we’ve encountered this semester have been far more metaphorical than I expected; only once did we encounter anything as straightforward as a typical vampire. As for the second question, at the beginning of the semester I didn’t have an answer for it at all, nor was it something I’d ever thought about. I feel that all of the texts and films we analyzed this semester come together to paint a really compelling picture of the range which encapsulates the idea of the monster, as well as its unique relevance in Latinx culture and history. While I did say that all of the texts and films reflect this well, there were three (conveniently evenly distributed over the course of the semester) which I felt really helped me form a more specific thesis. Those three were The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, From Dusk Till Dawn, and Mexican Gothic. Frustratingly, my two favorite books from this semester (Her Body and Other Parties and What You See In The Dark) didn’t end up being applicable to my thesis in the way that the former three did. With that being said, Mexican Gothic was a close third for me, so I’ll take it. Anyways, enough rambling—here is my thesis:

Latinx literature often turns to monsters to reflect its history because within Latinx history there have been several figures (for example, in Oscar Wao it was primarily Trujillo) who have had such a vastly damaging effect that it makes them almost inhuman—and makes it nearly impossible to describe their actions using natural and realist modes of storytelling. More importantly, the experiences of the people oppressed by figures like these were so horrific that it makes sense for Latinx authors to turn to genres such as horror and speculative fiction to reflect that historical reality; a purely realistic portrayal may fail to capture the inconceivable lived experiences.

I’ll begin with Oscar Wao, which I think may provide the most straightforward representation of my thesis. Fukú is a curse which is threaded throughout the novel, following each character in different ways. However, fukú is explicitly described as being tied to colonization—spawning from Columbus’ landing in the Americas—and as working hand in hand with the infamous past dictator of the Dominican Republic: Rafael Trujillo. Fukú is the subject of the introduction of the novel, and within the first two pages is described in the following ways. The very first sentence reads, “They say it came from Africa, carried in the screams of the enslaved, that is was the death bane of the Tainos, uttered just as one world perished and another began; that it was a demon drawn into Creation through the nightmare door that was cracked open in the Antilles. Fukú americanus, or more colloquially, fukú—generally a curse or doom of some kind; specifically the Curse and the Doom of the New World. Also called the fukú of the Admiral because the Admiral was both its midwife and one of its great European victims; despite “discovering” the New World the Admiral died miserable and syphilitic, hearing (dique) divine voices,” (Díaz, 1.) The following page reads, “But in those elder days, fukú had it good; it even had a hypeman of sorts, a high priest, you could say. Our then dictator-for-life Rafael Leónidas Trujillo Molina. No one knows whether Trujillo was the Curse’s servant or its master, its agent or its principal, but it was clear he and it had an understanding, that them two was tight,” (Díaz, 2-3.)

Right off the bat, fukú is presented as the “monster” of the narrative (if we’re reading the narrative for monsters, that is.) However, fukú is clearly not some otherworldly force completely detached from the realities of life. If a book teaches you how to read it, then after reading these first pages any reader of Oscar Wao should note the otherworldly and monstrous properties assigned to two real people: Christopher Columbus and Rafael Trujillo. Fukú is a monster born of and propelled by real people. Figures like Columbus and Trujillo become just that: figures. It’s difficult to understand how a supposedly human individual can wreak such widespread havoc and devastation. Myths must be formed around historical figures like that to reconcile their actions and impact.

The second example where I found grounding for my thesis was From Dusk Till Dawn. The movie begins like a traditional Western heist movie: two criminal brothers kidnap a family and use them to escape to Mexico. However, once the characters land in Mexico, the landscape and plot change so drastically that it almost lessens the quality of the movie. When I first watched it I was like, “what the fuck? Vampires? This is corny.” However, upon further analysis, the corniness may be intentional, and the vampires may be essential. Mexico is assigned so many stereotypes in the popular American imagination. Many of these stereotypes are hideously offensive, and yet, are rarely called out as such. Having the Mexican setting be a sex club literally engulfed in flames and teeming with vampires is so ridiculous within the context of the movie that it clearly mocks the American idea of Mexico as a lawless hellscape. Without the stark juxtaposition of the landscapes of the U.S. versus Mexico, as well as white, virginal “final-girl” (Kate) compared to the demonic, promiscuous Mexican women/vampires, the point could not have been made.

Finally, I think that Mexican Gothic was the perfect book to end the semester on. I feel that without this book I may not have been able to collect all of my thoughts about monstrosity and horror in Latinx literature in a way that made sense to me. I read Howard Doyle, as well as the entire Doyle family, as an allegory for colonialism itself. Who knows if that’s the correct reading—I could be completely off-base—but that’s what I gathered. Howard Doyle is desperately clinging to his life in England, despite being in Mexico. He’s using the local population to build power, while also being a violent eugenicist. All of these concepts stand in stark opposition to one another, and demonstrate the absurdity of his mindset. However, the history which he represents is so painful, and so vast, that simply making him into an evil (but fully human) villain would not have done it justice, in my opinion. The magic mushrooms were needed in order to warp the perceptions of everyone else around him, demonstrating the disorienting and complex effects of colonization. Without a magical force (like the mushrooms) the events and history which Doyle represents are far too big, for lack of a better word, to communicate. I feel like Mexican Gothic is a perfect example of horror and monstrosity being a major asset in effectively communicating the experiences of Latinx people when it comes to colonialism.

In all three of these pieces, I feel that realism alone would have lacked the appalling effect that horror as a genre provides, and that is present in certain Latinx histories. I feel that these histories are often too emotional, too traumatic, and too overwhelming to communicate through purely realistic narratives. In their own ways, all of the texts from this semester demonstrated that, making a really strong argument for horror and speculative fiction as important modes for historical and cultural analysis.