Blog for Persepolis

Without looking it up, the title Persepolis, I thought, had something to do with perception or perspective, which is still fitting to the story.  I had to look it up, both admitting my ignorance on the word, and reveled with the idea that I can find out something so quickly.

I learned it “was the ceremonial capital of the Achaemenid Empire,” also known as the Old Persia, or the Old Persian Empire.  The titles historic value is important.  It’s meaning is of a time before...and I see Marjane Satrapi’s story, Percepolis, depicting a time different from how Iran is viewed now. From the videos I’ve seen of her speaking, this seems to be her goal in writing the book: “I believe that an entire nation should not be judged by the wrong doings of a few extremists,” she wrote in the introduction to the book.

I find it admirable and enticing how she was able to write about such a serious subject, and revisit her childhood memories while staying true to a child’s innocent perspective.  Although I may not have though I’d be a prophet one day, this innocent belief of hers translated to me because I knew I’d be a rock star one day, or save the world from the evils that reign, or visit countries and teach every kid how to read and write and feed the hungry.

I had never been interested in comics, however, reading The Vocabulary of Comics by Scott McCloud was really fun.  His use of pictures, and explanations on how we view them through an abstract mindset, was interesting, and I it to be true. The fact that we see images like we see ourselves blew my mind.  This was a perfect pre-read to Percepolis. Although I would have still enjoyed Percepolis, understanding the use of images in story telling for comics gave me an almost panoramic view in my experience.

Writing Spaces: Web Writing Style Guide 1.0 is am awesome source for web writing.  Writing for the web presents a new literary culture when compared to writing for print. It is a bit daunting for a writer, who’s first purpose is to have their work seen by an audience.

I didn’t like the idea of web writing at first - I am attached to books, pages, and the look of ink on paper; and the fear of the demise of print still finds it’s way into my ever aging world view. I’m sure I’ve declared never to become a web writer at some point in my life.


But, times have changed, and my comfort level with web writing grows the more I learn about the do’s-and-don’ts of web writing. “The web is not a blank piece of (virtual) paper waiting to be filled with content! It is a network of communities, each of which has its own expectations, its own values, and its own strategies for success.”(pg 6) The opportunities granted for writers to get their work seen is nothing to overlook, and this guide is perfect for those wary of the world of web writing (as I once was, and still am sometimes).

According to Writing Spaces, “if you want to make your blog standout, take strong positions on a particular subject or theme and write in a colorful, fun way. The more fun you have writing your blog, the more likely it is that others will have fun reading it.” (pg 10) I think this can even be applied to print writing. It’s only natural for a writer who enjoys what they write to translate this enjoyment to their reader. 

Even the bits of advice on how to manage Facebook and Twitter are insightful since they are widely used by people who don’t specifically blog, yet, have a growing fan base. 

What I got most out of Writing Spaces was how our visual representation can be used as a rhetorical tool. For example, page titles, sub headers, and font add to a writer’s ethos. If there is no systematic reason for the look of a blog, a reader will not be able to get the most out of the content. I understand these concepts, however, putting them in practice is still something I need to get a better grasp on. 

I attempted to start a blog about a year ago (http://ninaizme.blog.com/), the goal to get my creative writing pieces out to the public.  I kept it simple since I didn’t know about web design, and how to manipulate it, nor have I returned to add more material or change it. However, it was a starting point in my venture to the web writing world. I was lucky enough to take a Web Design class last semester where I did learn how to create a web site, use HTML language, and how a site’s visual cue’s dictate how a user navigates through content. 

“The Digital Archives of Literacy Narratives (DALN) is a publicly available archive of personal literacy narratives in a variety of formats (text, video, audio) that together provide a historical record of the literacy practices and values of contributors, as those practices and values change” (http://daln.osu.edu/). The DALN is a great source for writers, and a perfect place to begin a web writing journey, where we can use all the skills we’ve learned throughout the semester.

My Invented Blog

  Isabel Allende’s My Invented Country is a beautiful portrayal of the act of invention in the creative process. Where there is something missing in life, she finds through invention. Where there is no home, she creates with details only visible to her perceptive eye. 

     Although I want to be a writer with every bone in my body - and simply thinking of doing something else sounds like torture - I am finding the process of success extremely daunting, scary, and almost impossible. Basically, it is harder than anything I have ever tried to do, maybe because I want it so badly. I mention this because Isabel Allende is a successful writer, and in My Invented Country, she transcends her own exile through the process of invention, creating, and writing, while speaking about the process through a creative narrative, full of exploration.

     My favorite excerpt from the book, probably because it resonates with my own desires to be a writer, is this: “What I learned then [working as a journalist] helps now in my writing: working under pressure, conducting an interview, doing research, using the language efficiently. ” (128) She mentions a “book is not an end in itself,” nor is writing, and by making this apparent through her writing is both insightful and appeals to me in many levels as a reader, and writer.

     My Invented Country is not only an exploration of where she is from. It seems to be an exploration of how, and why she is who she is, even as a writer. She speaks about her other novels as if they are her children - “I came across a collection of Russian novels and the complete works of Henri Troyat...I read and reread those books, and years later I named my son Nicholas after one of Troyat’s characters...” (116) Even her father abandoning her is a theme she admits to using in her stories, scattered with abandoned children. 

  Her descriptions are rich in flavor and dense in detail. She intertwines the land with the people of Chile, so that they are not one without the other: “We Chileans are enchanted by states of emergency. In Santiago, the temperatures are worse than in madrid; in summer we die of the heat and in winter of the cold, but no one has air conditioning or decent heating, because that would be tantamount to admitting that the climate isn’t as good as they say it is.” (48) Although most of the book is about Chile and its' people, generalizations only someone from a culture can portray, her knowledge of the land and its' people appeal to her ethos. 

     The writing itself is a naked revelation of her own relationship with a country she feels she is no longer part of, yet is attached to in' culture and identity. Her use of nostalgia appeals to pathos because it is something we can all relate to, exile or not.  In My Invented Country, Allende creates a place where she belongs, wherever she is. After all, she is the inventor of her own country.

Till We Meet Again

I’ve lived in Miami all my life. I am not Cuban, although I’ve taken Spanish since grade school. My skills have remained on a “need to speak” basis. I don’t speak Spanish unless I need it to for work, give directions to a lost someone, or sing the occasional Feliz Cumpleanos with my Fiance’s family.  

I am more embarrassed than anything for having been learning spanish for the last 20 years, and still get a grip on it. Still, once I leave Miami, I’m aware how Cuban culture is a big part of my Miami-ness. 

In Suarez’s “ Song for the Royal Palms of Miami,” the nostalgic description of the palms resonate with my memories (it was written for Firmat, who lived in Miami, making him the key audience): “Everywhere they stand, slightly bent/ against nocturnal offshore breezes.” This is an appeal to pathos, and happens throughout the poem. The palm is strong against the forces of nature, and is a symbol of another home: “pilled by the roots,/ remembrance of our lost childhoods.” I’ve traveled, felt the emptiness of nostalgia, and out of the blue seeing a palm tree standing tall against the wind made me feel at home. 

Gustavo Perez Firmat’s Transcending Exile: Cuban-American Literature Today is one of my favorite readings of the class.  Miami is not Miami without the Cuban culture, even for those who are not Cuban; drinking a cortadito every morning, roasting a whole pig for Christmas, and jamming to Salsa is part of the Miami culture I experience; even if I’ve felt left out due to my non-Cubanness, I am from Miami, and there is Cuba in Miami. 

  What drew me to Firmat’s Transcending Exile was how I could relate to it. His idea that transcending exile could be accomplished through literature is not new, however, his categorical perspective - that exile literature could be categorized into immigrant, exile, or ethnic literature - is a genuine thought, expressed through his own cultural understanding.  His main argument is that a culmination of culture - Cuban-American - can be experienced through ethnic literature. He states, “the ethnic writer is not interested in assimilation or return...to refuse both of these option,” with ethnic literature being “neither prospective or retrospective.” Firmat assert’s this allows the writer and reader to experience more than just floating around in longing.

I gravitate towards this idea because I see it in Miami; even Spanglish, arguably a demoralization of language, is a technique Firmat claims could be used to translate an ethnic cultural experience. His genuine voice appeals to ethos, and appeals to my pathos.  He seems to be speaking to an audience who normally rejects this kind of idea. However, his clear arguments to accept an already existing ethnic culture is an appeal to logos.

Firmat’s Epilogue: My Repeating Island begins: “What sort of exile is this person, who’s homeland is not longer his home?” This makes the audience think about the subject that will be presented, and appeals to their emotion.  It is a strong rhetorical act, with a sense of timing and format, providing Firmat with an opportunity to answer the question insight-fully: “The chronic exile never says, I am an exiled Cuban. He always says, I am a Cuban exile: the noun, the substantive, is exile.” 

It is also important to know the audience is reading the epilogue because they are reading My Life in the Hyphen written by Firmat. It’s an opportunity to introduce his book, and the “three faces of Cubanness: cubanidad, cubaneo, and cubanía. Cubanidad...” His use of style in mixing english and spanish - “in a homeland, una patria” - reveals a culmination of his becoming an the ethnic writer he wrote about in Transcending Exile.

Getting to speak to Firmat was an interesting experience because I got a better sense of his ethos, face-to-face, and affected how I internalized all 3 pieces. Hearing and seeing a writer speak about a piece we analyze is also a rhetorical determination of how we interpret a text.

Response to "Letter of Transit"

I am an American, born and raised.  I know that now, and feel it in my bones , but there was a time where I wasn’t.  My childhood sounded like Brasil, with the exception of television.  It tasted like Brasil and I spell it with an S because that is how they spell it.  The older I got, the less Brasilian I felt, however, I found myself in the limbo of the in between.  I am not the exile,  or immigrant, or expatriate; my parents are. Were? Still, I found myself dangling on the strings attached to my parents’ home land, and a culture I was never fully part of at all.

I think the constant discovery of “What is America” (Mukherjee, 69) is an interesting subject for anyone who is not native to America.  Simic depicts his discovery in the most open, and positive tone, and his use of ethos and pathos is appealing not only to an exile, but to an America (even though some of his non-nationalistic views may be unattractive to an American nationalist).  Mikherjee’s “Imagining Homelands” directly questions the status of being all different types of exiles in America, and some of the underlining issues are not just about being an exile, immigrant, etc, but the context of the status. It becomes a relationship between a host and the new additions.  One without the other doesn’t exist, which I think brings about a unity already, however divided this may be.  

The state of being an exile is beautifully describe in Andre Aciman’s “Shadow Cities,” my favorite reading of the series.  It is through his personal relationship with Straus Park that enables him to transcend his own exile, experience it through shifting views, and visit his past memories.  

Hoffman’s “The New Nomads” is a bit harder to read.  It’s use of logos did not appeal so much to my emotions, in that is didn’t appeal to pathos as much.  However, the level of insight on the values of an exile, and what is lost or gained, or lost and not gained, is charged in the conflict for what it means to be “those who leave one country for another” (40).  

I was pleasantly surprised by Said’s story considering my perception about him from the last essay we read. I found his idea that his own exile experience was one he “accepted like so many fact of nature” to be insightful, appealing to logos.  His personal account and telling of his own journey, it seems his own ideas transform, and he finds himself exiled in many different forms: “Either way, I’ve long since learned to cherish it.” His own identity as an exile is not where he finds himself, yet the ideals inherent in his past do find him.  

All in all, I found the reading to be insightful, and although I never questioned what exiles, immigrants, expatriates, etc, had to experience since living in Miami I am aware of their existence, I think I have traversed a new understanding of the depth that humanity has been faced with.  My favorite way that it was put (although Mukherji meant in America specifically, but I see it even bigger) is that we are “heading towards the ancient dream of unity through diversity” however, the roads are being built, bridges are expanding, and although the chaos may never end, through the rising dust of fallen walls, doors are open.(69)