"I will create a country you will not discover unless you read me first."
Potentially reality-restructuring with no exaggeration... kind of feels like exactly what I fucking needed to fully reinvigorate my Reading Brain which has kind of been off its mojo over the past couple months. This is a monumental work of art - and the fact its praises aren't being sung as one of the best books of the century so far is fucking criminal, though that's to be expected for something that so brazenly sets itself outside the status quo even while understanding the surrounding imperial culture that informed it. While unlikely to ever get this reputation in her lifetime, Braschi should without a doubt be considered one of the great thinkers of our time, I suspect I'll just keep doubling down on this take the more I read [and reread] her work... I try to keep my mind open to most of the books I read, I usually enjoy books because life is too short not to see the good in things, but even among enjoyable books only rarely do I ever come across one in which the act of experiencing it actually felt like a watershed moment for me. The passion oozing from every pore of this book cannot be ignored, it demands to be focused on, its energy is actually infectious in the strongest sense, which is in keeping with the main themes and drives of the book. No bounds, no pesky genre distinctions and labels - it's not even distinguishable at any moment between fact and fiction, or even any structural frameworks you could try to pin it within, every box you could try to fit it into would have you tripping over your words, which Giannina never does by the way, no matter how much she can [apparently]* digress from page to page. If someone were to say a work this singular and this passionate and of itself [despite and because of its ostensible appearance as being Farce in some sections] is messy or "unedited" and thus somehow bad, then I urge them to reconsider as it would be undermining the inspired ethos of a book like this and the importance of allowing oneself to embrace the feelings brought on by its unfamiliarity. Enjoyment of books is of course subjective, but I don't think there's any fair way to completely write something like this off just because it is unlike what we're culturally acclimated to. Just ask yourself what you may get out of it if you can meet this on its wavelength, because a book like this only ever rarely comes around. This type of art should at least appreciated instead of resigned to the dustbin of history, where no art should be in really, but especially not this kind. Give it a generous chance, as Giannina Braschi does for the reader throughout all 300 pages of it.
Really, the biggest resonance I made with this was not through just the formal inventiveness and writerly prowess [incredible btw; I'd say this is mainly a poetic work, though it is of course also prose and neither], but mainly the voice guiding me through all of it... Giannina is no doubt one of the most incredible people I've ever read about and I can literally feel it just through her voice. Death of the author is a theory I subscribe to but it's through a work like this that I realize my past proclivity of completely shutting out the author in favor of your own experience ** can unnecessarily shut out the potential that arises when you can, through art, focus on in a sense getting to "know" the person writing it, beyond just the surface level of enjoying the story. This is boldly autobiographical, though it can't strictly be called autobiography of course, for Giannina's inward sprawl expands outwardly from herself to an examination of the external world, where she spends much time trying to suss out her place in amidst political and spiritual turbulence. Giannina is conversational but teacherly, warm and cold at the same time; compassionan existing exists harmoniously alongside frustration and fury, you're sent into a torrent of this very complex mind and must meet Giannina there on her terms. She knows this is her book and this is her podium to stand at and trusts that you will agree to hear her out. Opening her heart to the reader through her own seemingly madcap interpretation of truth, it soon becomes clear that her ideas are far more rooted in reason and beauty than the lies we are told about these concepts in the system we are molded in, the same one she also realizes her part in playing into, just like all of us in our own ways. The book is an invitation into another person's mind, and through it her understanding of the world, which will in turn enriches the reader's.
The nearly infinite capacity for empathy and building bridges between author and reader has become, to me, maybe one of the highest and most profound goals that art can strive for in general - at the very least it's probably what keeps me coming back to art above all else, especially as someone who is very isolated from the outside world. Nowhere but within a book can you come closest to having a conversation with someone you will never meet which, I think, feels like the closest thing to an M.O. as this book has. If you hate politics in your books, if you think people should just sit down and shut up about their situations and "get to the point", then you will not enjoy this book. If you're willing to listen to someone with a fiery messy-but-genius mind then delve into their truth with you, however, there is so much to be gotten out of this. Giannina Braschi leaves you plenty of room, it's dense but perfectly readable, perfectly paced, which somehow feels weird to say for a work so non-narratively focused, but she is such a compelling writer and thinker that I was incapable of stopping myself from turning the pages, even when I got completely lost [which only added to the book's fun factor and was bolstered by the amount of levity and lightness emanating from Giannina's kind voice]. You'd benefit by being well-read on classic literature and philosophy, but Braschi is her own thinker and supplemental reading isn't required at all. It isn't a flawless book, it has peaks and valleys, just like Giannina's life and everyone else's, if the book was spotless its impact would be lessened, it would be Just Another Great Book. And this is a great book, as I've hopefully made clear already, but not just another one, if you catch my drift.
It's also profoundly Not Bleak which is especially impressive for a book so fixated on the ripple effects of the War on Terror, imperialism, the modern surveillance/information age... something like this could have easily ended up becoming an exercise in philosophical pessimism, but Giannina's vision of the future is so much more suggestive of the unstoppable advent of liberation. There would be no reason, after all, to write about the struggle for freedom of a people who are still very much Not Free if there was no driving belief that this freedom was possible, and even more audaciously Inevitable. I think one of the core themes of the book is personal revolution, that change can only begin individually from the person who realizes change is necessary [especially as it is inevitable], that the divide between matter and spirit [to borrow terminology from the book] can't be bridged in society until its bridged within oneself. And the core driving force that Braschi proposes as a key to this awakening is a return of romanticism to the world, as seen through how much this riffs on [and actually deconstructs] classic literature while clearly holding deep admiration for it. Giannina's ideal that art is on some level capable of healing individuals and even nations, and the idea that the inherent Poetics driving all experience is just fundamental to the human species no matter how much the ruling apparatuses try to destroy these impulses, all of this is deeply appealing to me as someone who personally needs art to survive. While my own understanding of spirituality has solidified more over the past few years, it was art and especially books that even enabled these realizations in the first place, I would have never gotten where I am now without the ability of "meeting" a writer I will never meet on their wavelength [across time, space, nations, peoples] as is possible through literature, even if it is technically in a limited state, it never really feels as limited as it should feel, which I don't think has ever been better expressed in a book I've read than this one. Yes, it's an abstract form of communication, as in most cases you will never meet the writer. But that even a sheer abstraction of the surrounding reality can teach you as much as this taught me about said reality, through the mind of a single artist living within it, is testament to the mind-bogglingly vast nature of life and existence that is always flowing around me, and that I am part of that flow no matter how physically separate I feel from it. I don't know how exactly but in some sense the stream connecting all of us and everything all the time is accessible through books, which I can't interpret as anything other than reality when a book like this can exist, because this is raw reality as seen by Giannina Braschi, and through hers I see my own reflected, despite us being whole countries and cultures removed from one another.
Over the years I've gone back and forth on the idea of whether art can be actually revolutionary, in so far as actually instigating any "real" change outside its pages, canvas, whatever, but it almost feels like this book singlehandedly dispelled any of my doubts that it can. After all, it is art that has been changing [and saving] my life since the start of this decade, and before it for nearly as long as I lived, even if I was much less conscious of what it could do for me until I got sick. Braschi's is only one vision of change, but the infinite is contained within the personal and the specific, and if this is possible, what does it say about the amassed infinity of potential and possibility in every single person? And through all these big ideas, it is a phenomenal aesthetic work period, immense in scope and scale beyond its slim length, with language virtuosic on every page, and not one iota of it is misplaced among its own grand design, which is high praise for a work this dense. Mostly, though, it is life-affirming art, and as someone with an ill body, that is probably the highest praise I could give anything. I can genuinely say I now know what it feels like to be truly thankful that a book exists, and thankful to Giannina Braschi for writing it. This is a gift, art is a gift from the divine, and I can't be anything less than honored to coexist in the world with those who make and love it.