Customer Reviews

Heading South, Looking North: A Bilingual Journey

5 star:		(6)
4 star:		(3)
3 star:		(1)
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1 star:		(6)

 

 

This is a great book. I have seldom read a book that is so honest and, at the same time, so full of sound and fury. Yes, it is highly idiosyncratic, especially when Dorfman tries to explain his reasons for chosing English over Spanish and vice versa, but, at the same time, it is written with such passion that one cannot help sympathizing with him. Being bilingual myself, going from English to Spanish and from Spanish to English every single day of my life, being an expatriate yearning for the lost paradise of my birth and childhood, I found in Dorfman's "Heading south, looking north" many of the encountered feelings that a person who participates in two cultures has--and I rejoiced in that I was not alone in my feelings.

But, apart from being a passionate meditation on the virtues and 'ravages' of bilingualism, "Heading south, looking north" is a corageous book full of the ironies that make up life and a hymn to the Allende revolution in Chile. There is much to be gained from his soul searching, much to be learned from his criticism of the revolution that he loves so much (yes, I think it's appropriate to use the present tense), and, above all, much to be admired from this singular journey. I highly recommend this book.

This book is the internal memoirs of a man whose defining moments were exile from his homelands and his languages. Exile was a longstanding way of life in Dorfman's family, from his grandparents who had to leave Eastern Europe, to his parents who had to flee both Argentina and the US, and now Dorfman himself, who was forced into asylum after the fall of Allende in Chile. But exile is more of a secondary or co-theme of this book. The other major theme is Dorfman's search for identity through his languages. Throughout the book, Dorfman describes how he came to know language, and the identity traits that go along with a language. He also describes how he came to choose which of his two languages, English and Spanish, to use in different contexts and to consciously construct different identities.

Rather than tell his story chronologically, Dorfman works from a repertoire of pivotal moments. He has asked himself, when and why did I first start using English? When did I begin to write? When did I embrace the philosophy of non-violence? He then describes these episodes in detail, and speculates and philosophizes on them. The story of Dorfman's political activities in Chile and what happened to him during the coup constitute about half of the book, with these political chapters alternating with chapters about the other significant events in his life. The bouncing back-and-forth between time periods moves almost smoothly, like the thought patterns of an insomniac reflecting back at the end of a busy day.

I found many aspects of this book quite interesting. The first-person account of bilingualism, and its ties to a conflicted identity were described very clearly. The inside perspective on the Allende regime and its fall was also informative. What was particularly telling was the speculation on why the regime lost popularity amongst the Chilean people- -how Dorfman himself shamed people who were celebrating the Allende victory with a right-wing singer who was trying to mend fences, and told them the singer was not welcome in the revolution, or how he didn't reach out to a neighbor whose job was jeopardized and then lost because he wasn't an Allendista. Another aspect of this story that I found intriguing was Dorfman's identity as a gringo English speaker brought to Chile against his will as a young teenager, who came to adopt the country and become active in its politics. I couldn't help but think of another young man, Michael Townley, who was also brought by his American family to Santiago in his teenage years, and also learned the language, married a local girl, and wanted to call Chile his permanent home. But Townley was on the other side of the revolution, and became a right-wing terrorist working for the Chilean intelligence forces. Did Dorfman ever encounter Townley? Of course, Dorfman wasn't actually American- -he was an Argentinean who spent a significant portion of his childhood in the US, but he looked and spoke the part. How many other young Americans adopted Chile during this period? What was their combined influence on Chilean politics?

Ariel Dorfman manages to express in the words of only one language the treason which two languages coexisting within him create. He traces his own working through pain and developing of identity in the dichotomy of his culturalism and sheds an almost joyfully existential light on the blind forces which bless some and curse others. Heading South, Looking North may be above the heads of the less literary (i.e. some of the previous reviews), but it is a triumph and should be enjoyed by any reader willing to find himself in the spaces between language, culture, and politics.

This book is a wonderfully woven, yet economical, description of one young man's constant self examination and exploration of his surroundings. I would like to think that I and others could be as sensitive and compassionate. Also, between the lines I understood what amazing, positive people his parents must have been. Thoughtful, provoking, and above all, beautifully crafted.

Both as a memorial to the democracy that was delayed for a generation in Chile (and to his friends who were casualties in the Pinochet terror) and as an account of how a major writer became the bilingual hybrid he is by rejecting first one and then the other of his linguistic selves, this is a fascinating book. . Battered from continent to continent by political events of the twentieth century, Dorfman's survival (as he knows well) depended on considerable luck and on his father's connections. Although he has accepted that his vocation is to tell stories, especially the stories of repression in Chile, there is no doubt that he harbors a considerable amount of survivor guilt.

Contrary to the misrepresentation of earlier reviewers, Dorfman does mention Borges (three times, all with respect), criticizes Castro as well as Pinochet (though Chile is a place to which he gave his heart and soul), and is not just aware, but explicit that it is ironic "I should have become a spokesperson for the poor in Latin America because I had spent so many years in the rich North" and of the recurrent ironies that the connections of his marxist father got them out of harm's way.

This is a very honest, un-narcissistic account of an interesting life of multiple exiles, observing failures of democracies, making clear the different selves that emerge in different languages. I would have liked more on the second American exile and assenting to bilingualism, and I regret that the hardback cover composition was replaced by the duller, less bicultural one on the paperback.

It is a great experience to read through this painful memoir turning into a dramatic novel. I am fascinated with Mr. Dorfman's artful narratives as they seem to illuminate not only the tragedy of his country but that of Korea, which was brought about by the same ideological conflicts and interracial war. Moreover, the themes of bilingualism and cultural hybridity are treated here with such a remarkable sensitivity that, though not a bilingual person in a strict sense, I feel a full sympathy toward a young boy growing up in America with fear and death in his heart. The search for one's identity is so dear and so painful. It is a truly moveing story with an acute sense and insight into contemporary multicultural scenes.

At times I found Dorfman a little difficult to follow. The timeline isn't quite as clear as I would have liked. Yet, the timeline is not as important and essential as the tale of his inner-journey which reflects upon the social, political, and identity choices that he has made (and continues to make) in his life. I'm now eager to read more about Chilean politics - I think that might help me to better contextualize his experiences.

This is the kind of book I thought I'd enjoy. A memoir by Ariel Dorfman, the novelist, the exile, living now with his family in Durham, North Carolina, where he holds the Walter Hines Page chair at Duke University. To a certain extent I did like it, but the author comes over as a smarmy busy-bee who pokes his nose into everything and inevitably gets himself into trouble. He sounds like a naïve adolescent, full of himself, pathetic despite his experiences and accomplishments. He is an idealist, a quirky character, a good writer, no doubt an eccentric.

What is most incredible is that the man now lives in the USA despite all his criticism of the country's influence on the Third World in such books as How to Read Donald Duck. A bonus point for the USA for letting him stay, I'd say. This is not to say that Dorfman is incorrect in his assumptions though, rather it begs the question of why did he choose to live in the US? No doubt, it is where he is most likely to draw attention to himself, have his books published, and hold a secure position! In that he's not much different to the rest of us at heart, only differing insofar as his writing and exile is concerned.

Heading South, Looking North is an account of Dorfman's early years in the US, his life in Chile, his involvement during the Allende years, his struggle with language, namely American English and Latin American Spanish, and finally his exile from Chile where this book ends.

The chapters alternate between his early years and the Allende years, before he brings it all together in the closing chapter. The writing is often in the present tense and meanders and grinds on and on, thereby it is easy to lose a grasp of what's being said. Nonetheless, I quite liked the style, though much of the time I couldn't see what the fuss of whether to use Spanish or English was about. Well, so it's difficult to be fluent and think and write in both languages. This is a writer's dilemma, his agony so to speak, but it's no big deal. That is unless you want to make it one, and Dorfman does. Whatever, he seems to succeed in his efforts to write in both languages.

I feel he uses that theme here as an overburdened vehicle to the Allende years and his involvement in the revolution. A guy like this is bound to be involved in some sort of revolution or other. And in this book his supposed squeaky clean honesty reminds me of modern day politicians, who I do not trust. I'd be watching my back if Dorfman was around for sure, he protests too much and I feel there is definitely something he is not saying although he is supposed to be saying it all.

I look forward to reading a novel by him though.

The prose is beautiful, even as the author takes a courageous, critical look at his two homes. He celebrates the gifts (especially of language) that each has given him. More admirable: he can critically examine that which he loves.

This is a dissapointing, self-indulgent story which must have been interesting for the author to write but is unlikely to engage the average reader. Being a bilingual person myself, I could not find the story interesting, or well written or presented, from a personal perspective. Perhaps Mr Dorfman overlook the well established notion that people are interested in his ideas, opinions and thoughts, not his own personal story which is, like the vast majority of men and women, of no consequence or interest except for some defining moments. A boring read, which I cannot possibly recommend.