Vargas Llosa’s story “The Cubs” is not for the faint-hearted. The impression I received from the picture on the cover of a laughing child holding a teddy bear and from the title itself prepared me for a warm, fuzzy experience. Far from it.
From the first page, I knew I was in for some work. The narrative voice with the inconsistent pronouns brought my pencil to the page, not to mention the lack of quotation marks and conventional sentence structure. I pressed on, determined to decipher his unusual style.
Then I came to the dog attack scene. That was difficult. But I went on. Soon my frustration with the style was forgotten and replaced by the pain I felt for Cuellar as I became totally immersed in his struggle for identity, purpose and acceptance.
Was it the pleasant tale I had expected? Not at all. Was I changed? Absolutely. Vargas Llosa’s captivating style drew me into the story in such a way that I felt I was there. Cuellar’s struggle isn’t to teach a lesson or to entertain. It raises more questions than it answers. It’s real life.
Vargas Llosas sums it up best in the preface: “What’s certain is that literature does not solve problems-instead, it creates them-and rather than happy, it makes people more apt to be unhappy. That’s how it is and it’s all part of my way of living and I wouldn’t change it for any other.” Neither would I.
I agree with you in that Cubs was definitely not what I expected. It definitely has a “shock” value like we talked about last time in class. It was uncomfortable to read about a story like this, but I found myself thinking far beyond the immediate issues in the story line but more about society, social class, and pressure to fit in. I personally loved the style with so many voices running together as one. I would like to take a look at the Spanish version because I’m sure it has a different feel from the English version. While Vargas LLosa does not solve any problems, he makes head a step in that direction by encouraging readers to think critically about society.