Book Review: Isabel Allende's latest strong female protagonist is a journalist
Best-selling author Isabel Allende has been beloved for decades by millions of passionately loyal readers for her strong female protagonists and epic story lines stretching across the Americas.
In novels such as 'The House of the Spirits,' 'Eva Luna,' and more recently, 'Violeta,' indomitable women take center stage and drive dramatic narratives conjured into being with a splash of magic realism by the writer who was born in Peru and raised in Chile.
It's no different in Allende's latest book, 'My Name is Emilia del Valle,' which features an adventurous journalist in San Francisco during the late 1800s. Young Emilia is surprisingly intrepid for a female of her time, challenging and vaulting over gender barriers as she moves from writing cheap novels under a male pseudonym to pushing for her real byline — as a woman — to be published above her newspaper articles.
Much of Emilia's intellectual curiosity and confidence comes from her stepfather, a Spanish speaking schoolteacher who marries her pregnant mother, a novice Catholic nun abandoned after a romance with a wealthy Chilean aristocrat.
Although Allende initially sets her story in the United States, she gradually moves the action to Chile when Emilia persuades a newspaper editor to let her travel to the South American country to help cover Chile's civil war, emphasizing her Spanish language skills.
She's dispatched along with fellow newspaper correspondent Eric Whelan, who will focus on the main news while she handles the features.
Along with the professional challenge, Emilia wants to learn more about the father she has never known, and herself. Once in Chile, Emilia faces extreme dangers she has never imagined and questions where she came from and where she's going.
It's a story likely to be appreciated by the legions of Allende fans who have ensured she's considered the world's most widely read Spanish-language author. Although the Chilean-American novelist is fluent in English, and has long lived in California, she writes in her native Spanish and her books are translated.
The recipient of Chile's National Literature Prize in 2010, Allende is considered an American literary treasure as well. She was inducted into the American Academy of Arts and Letters in 2004 and was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom by President Barack Obama in 2014.
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Allende previous novel, 'The Wind Knows My Name,' published in 2023, was a departure from her familiar tales featuring strong women. In that book, she braided the stories of two young children traveling alone in different times and places – one during the brewing Holocaust in Europe and the other in modern day Arizona on the border with Mexico.
But all of Allende's books, 'My Name is Emilia del Valle' included, have the epic feel of a major Hollywood film, the kind of production that everyone will tell you must be seen on the big screen to be truly appreciated.
Reading the book, you can almost see young Emilia on the steamboat headed south to Chile, the land at the foot of the volcanos that holds her roots, and her destiny.
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AP book reviews: https://apnews.com/hub/book-reviews
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Winnipeg Free Press
3 days ago
- Winnipeg Free Press
‘Chespirito: Sin Querer Queriendo' is a tribute to the Mexican comedian who shaped a generation
HBO's new biographical series 'Chespirito: Not Really on Purpose' ('Sin Querer Queriendo') has been received with delight by the many fans in the U.S. and Latin America who grew up watching the late Mexican comedian Roberto Gómez Bolaños. The eight-episode miniseries, which debuted Thursday, dramatizes the professional and personal journey of Gómez Bolaños, who transformed comedy in Latin America and whose characters defined a generation for millions of children. Known as 'Chespirito,' he took his inspiration from Laurel and Hardy as well as another transcendent Mexican comedian who eventually made it to Hollywood, Cantinflas. Chespirito died in 2014 at age 85. Pablo Cruz, who plays Chespirito in the series, told The Associated Press in an interview translated from Spanish that the show is a tribute that tells 'a story that we know will connect with a very broad audience and give them an opportunity to further appreciate what they already admire and love.' Chespirito's two most famous characters were 'El Chavo del Ocho' ('The Boy from Number Eight') and 'El Chapulin Colorado' ('The Crimson Grasshopper'). 'El Chavo del Ocho' was an 8-year-old boy orphan living alone in a Mexican neighborhood with his barrel, freckles, striped shirt and grayed cap. 'El Chapulin Colorado' was a naive superhero dressed in a red bodysuit and hood with antennae that helped him detect danger miles away (despite the name, his yellow shorts and boots gave him more the look of a red bumblebee). Through his characters, Chespirito favored a clean comedy style far removed from the sexual innuendo and obscenity-laced jokes popular today. His morning shows were a staple for preschoolers, much like 'Captain Kangaroo' was in the United States. The HBO series 'is a tribute to Chespirito's importance as one of the key figures in Mexican television and highlights the enormous impact his television programs had throughout Latin America,' Fernando Cárdenas, digital manager for the Hispanic Organization of Latin Actors, said in a statement to the AP. The miniseries is a powerful act of cultural preservation, one that documents the impact Latinos have had on the global entertainment industry, said Sehila Mota Casper, director of Latinos in Heritage Conservation. 'For so many of us, his characters weren't just entertainment,' Mota Casper said. 'They shaped how we understand humor, how we face challenges and how we see ourselves as Latinxs. This series honors that impact. By telling his story in this way, we help make sure the cultural histories that shaped us are seen, respected and carried forwards to future generations.' 'El Chavo' proved so popular that reruns are still shown in multiple countries in Latin America and on Spanish-language television in the United States. Many Latin Americans, living under dictatorships during the height of the show, found his underdog triumphs heroic in the face of authority. In a 2005 interview with the Mexican newspaper La Jornada, Gómez Bolaños said he always wrote with working-class people in mind. 'During the 1970s, the program was produced to reflect the reality of working-class families in Mexico and enjoyed enormous impact in other Spanish-speaking countries because the situations portrayed in the stories were similar to those of all audiences, regardless of geographical boundaries,' Cárdenas said. Alberto Lammers, who grew up watching 'El Chavo' in Peru during the 1970s and '80s, was excited for the series and the childhood nostalgia it evokes. He was also excited to learn more about what was happening behind the scenes in Gómez Bolaños' life. 'It really struck a chord with my childhood,' Lammers, who now lives in California, said after finishing the first episode. 'It gives heart and context to his complexity and the characters he built. It's also a very interesting look at how he became a TV personality. I'm looking forward to seeing where it goes! It's a real-life telenovela!' Weekly A weekly look at what's happening in Winnipeg's arts and entertainment scene. Fans also took to social media to praise the episode and their awe at the uncanny similarities between the actors and the people they are playing. For Lammers, after migrating to the U.S., 'El Chavo del Ocho' served as a connection to his roots even if the show wasn't based in Peru. 'Going to that show to me was actually very comforting,' Lammers said. 'It built a sense of community across most of Latin America.' ___ Associated Press journalist Berenice Bautista contributed reporting from Mexico City.
Japan Forward
01-06-2025
- Japan Forward
Everything Has a Beginning and End in Ippon-jime Culture
Everything in Japan must have an official beginning and end, an ippon-jime , from drinking to sports to school trips and meetings. There are many reasons for this, but here are some theories. "Yooooo-o Clap!" That's the sound of 20 salarymen in suits suddenly yelling and clapping in unison. Ippon-jime sounds like a karate move, and might startle the casual foreign observer enjoying a beer in an izakaya-style pub. Like a Spanish tapas bar, izakayas are the ubiquitous post-work watering holes offering delicious food and cheap drinks. Indeed, izakaya, literally, means "place to stay and drink." They are full of office workers, students, and middle-aged men avoiding the early train home. Drinking in izakayas certainly ruins the image of the Japanese as quiet, shy, polite, or demure. In fact, izakayas are where Japanese discard the formalities of the office, relax, discuss frankly, conclude business transactions, and sometimes go wild. An Izakaya meal in celebration. (©Daniel Moore) A typical izakaya meal is part of the experience. (©Daniel Moore) There is one drastic difference from Western drinking, though. Even a raucous drinking party, especially a work function, must have an official beginning and ending with a formal aisatsu or greeting. No one can drink until everyone holds something (typically nama beeru ) in their hand and the kanpai (toast) is announced, often with a short speech from the organizer or highest-ranking member. Ikkai shime mashouka ? "Shall we close this party?" is a phrase to indicate the party's conclusion. Unity remains one of the most prized values in Japanese culture. The members of a company or team may be individuals, but performing something in unison brings them together. At a drinking party, unity is established through the kanpai and shime , but there are also other ways. Most Japanese companies have stricter dress codes than Western companies, so everyone appears more or less the same. Many companies also perform a chorei , or morning greeting, to initiate the workday. In some, they chant the company song and do radio taiso (an odd-looking stretching and exercise routine often broadcast over loudspeakers) to raise motivation and keep employees healthy. The same goes for schools, where at the start and end of the day, everyone stands up and straightens their posture (called kiritsu ). Then they bow, asking, then thanking the teacher for the instruction. From start to finish, the group dines together al fresco. (©Daniel Moore) Japan is changing, though. Kids are not drinking, and managers cannot force them to. My friend told me about a co-worker who refused to attend a company drinking party for free, agreeing to go only if they paid her hourly wage. Abstaining from a drinking party or asking such a question would have been unspeakable a few years ago. Perhaps the custom of opening and closing every event is fading with it. For those who still attend drinking parties, another reason for ippon-jime is knowing when it is socially acceptable to leave. After the official function, there is almost always a nijikai , or second party. However, anyone wanting to leave finds an excuse to go home after the first party. Lower-ranking members at an office party must pour drinks for the higher-ups, so they tend to leave first. I have heard excuses, including "I have work the next day," "my kids are at home," and "my husband needs dinner." Any excuse will do. Just like staying at work until the boss leaves, leaving a party before the official ending is socially awkward. One's official duties are typically finished at the end of the first party. When presenting a business card, which is still required for doing business in Japan, people introduce themselves as belonging to the company. If I worked for Google, I would be "Google no Daniel," meaning Daniel of Google. In a work, school, or team setting, Japanese effectively represent the company, school, or team where they belong. And they are expected to behave accordingly. Any inappropriate behavior or negative perception reflects poorly on the institution. However, individuals still represent themselves before the official greeting of an event, work day, or competition. They are free to behave as they choose. Within the hours of the opening and closing ceremonies, however, each one becomes part of the collective. They are expected to look around to conform and behave according to custom. Growing up playing sports, the phrase, "You are still at practice until you reach home," was repeated often. It served as a reminder not to mess around while still representing the team. The practice of having an opening and closing greeting delineates when you are on and off duty, so to speak. Part of the group stands for a photo before passing under the "shime nawa" of a shrine. (©Daniel Moore) Finally, a Japanese friend suggested another reason for having a beginning and an end to everything. In Shinto, Japan's native animistic belief system, there is the concept of the shime nawa . Using the same word ( shime ) to describe concluding a drinking party, the shime nawa is a rope tied across torii gates to delineate the spiritual and secular worlds. ] Entering a Shinto shrine by passing under the shime nawa signals to be respectful because one is entering a special place presided over by the Shinto kami . Similarly, within the lines of an official function, one should behave according to the rules. In the case of Shinto, having a visible reminder helps people understand how to act. Beginnings and endings go much further back than Japanese corporate drinking culture. Despite custom, following Daniel's style, the group sits in unstated vertical rank. (©Daniel Moore) I live in a gray zone of knowing Japanese culture inside and out, but only instilling the aspects that suit me. For example, I use business cards and have an official title because I own a company. However, I introduce myself as Daniel. No company, position, or even last name required. People remember me because I'm a foreigner who speaks fluent Japanese, so I feel no need to explain further. I can also walk out of a drinking party without feeling too guilty. I apologize, but ultimately, I do what I want. Succeeding long-term as a foreigner living in Japan is ultimately about balancing understanding and conforming to the culture, and not caring about what people think. Nevertheless, I enjoy performing ippon-jime . It is a fun way to end a drinking party. I even started using it to conclude the official end of a tour. Ultimately, I believe the culture of ippon-jime , along with societal and work expectations, makes Japan a great place to live and a terrible place to work ー at least if you work in a Japanese company. Because people respect their work and feel pressure to perform, Japan's service quality is exceptional. No one can slack off because during work hours, everyone else is working just as hard. Ah - and finally, an end to the adventure. (©Daniel Moore) However, if you are the one providing the service, it means long hours, low wages, and navigating the complex social structure of a Japanese company. Figuring out a way to live in Japan without working for a Japanese company is something I have been fortunate enough to do. It is the best way to get the best of both worlds. Then you don't have to worry so much about how you perform during the opening and closing ceremonies. Author: Daniel Moore Learn more about the wild side of Japan through Daniel's essays . Leave questions or comments in the section below, or reach Daniel through Active Travel Japan .
Calgary Herald
29-05-2025
- Calgary Herald
Three 'prairie flamenco dance fighters' to present new show at DJD Dance Centre
Article content Quiet, introverted and vulnerable are not the first words that spring to mind when describing the fiery world of flamenco dance. Article content Article content But Calgary dancer, choreographer, filmmaker and general flamenco-booster Rosanna Terracciano has established a body of work that emphasizes these attributes, dubbing it 'quiet flamenco.' Article content 'For me, quiet flamenco is always going to be in everything that I do,' she says. 'Because it's really a whole approach in how I see flamenco. It's really important to be able to give voice to the quieter side of the art form. I'm going to be on the stage, stomping feet and making noise like everyone else. But it's a very different way of approaching it.' Article content Article content So, while working on her solo piece that will become part of Flamenco at the DJD Dance Centre, Terracciano has incorporated her take on a quieter, more feminine side of the dance. Article content Article content 'It does exist, it is in the flamenco world, but it's not what we typically associate with it,' she says. 'It's in the nuances and the silences. If you start to look for it, you can find it.' Article content The dancer has always been interested in challenging the spicy, macho stereotypes of flamenco and presenting it as more multi-layered than many assume. On Friday, she will be joined at the DJD Dance Centre by Winnipeg's Claire Marchand and Edmonton-based Jane Ogilvie, whom Terracciano calls her 'fellow flamenco dance fighters' from the prairies. They have known each other for years, ever since they were emerging dancers. But they had never worked together until 2024, when they collaborated on Flamenco at the Yardbird in Edmonton to a sold-out audience. Article content Article content For this version of the show, the group will be performing in Calgary, Edmonton and Winnipeg. It will also feature Spanish flamenco singer and percussionist Francisco Orozco and guitarist Peter Mole. Article content 'It was kind of an experiment to see how we would work together,' Terracciano says. 'It turned out really well. It was a great experience, so we decided, 'Let's bring it back and bring it to more cities.' ' Article content The three dancers take different approaches to flamenco. Terracciano is more experimental. Ogilvie is also a pianist and music teacher, so she brings more rhythmic moves and incorporates more complicated footwork. Marchand is more old-school, bringing back a style 'you don't really see anymore.' Article content Terracciano had a relatively late start in dance, as a late teen when she was already in university. She was studying engineering at the University of Calgary, but began taking contemporary dance. Her parents came from the Naples region of southern Italy. There are a lot of cultural similarities between the Neapolitan culture and the area of southern Spain where flamenco comes from. Terracciano's mother was a dressmaker who was fascinated by the flamenco costumes.
