by Carmen M. Martínez-Roldán, University of Texas, Austin
This week we aim to have an online discussion of The Dreamer. A small group of students from Teachers College participating in a course on Latino literature, will share their responses to the novel. Please, join our discussion. One of my favorite scenes was the interchange of gifts between Neftalí and an unknown child through the hole in the fence of the backyard. It reads:
As usual, the porthole revealed nothing more than another weed-choked yard. A prickly sensation washed over him, and the hair stood up on his arms. He sensed a presence and thought he heard a small intake of breath. He pulled back. After a few moments, he peeked through again. Still nothing. Had he wished so hard for someone to be there that he had imagined a ghost? Suddenly, the hand of a child darted through the hole and disappeared. Neftalí jerked away, his heart thumping. The hand reappeared and nudged a toy sheep through the gap. Nefatlí picked it up… There was someone on the other side… The desire to give something back overwhelmed Neftalí. But what could he offer? What could he pass through the hole in the fence that was as remarkable? … The giver could have been anyone in the world. (pp. 128-132).
In return, he decides to give the unknown child the dear and special pinecone he had found in the forest. The sheep, in turn, became Neftalí’s devoted companion. Commenting on this incident, Muñoz adds in the Author’s Note that Neruda kept the original sheep for many years until it was lost in a house fire and that even as an adult he kept looking into toy-shop windows, hoping to find another sheep that was similar to the one he lost. In the essay Childhood and Poetry Neruda wrote about the experience and circumstance of receiving the original sheep:
Neruda said, ‘That exchange brought home… a precious idea: that all of humanity is somehow together… Just as I once left the pinecone by the fence, I have since left my words on the door of so many people who were unknown to me, people in prison, or hunted, or alone.’ (Muñoz, 2010, p. 356).
Neruda’s idea about we all sharing a common humanity reminds me of Rudine Sims Bishop’s (2003) words:
A story that captures the specifics and peculiarities of a people’s experience also captures something of the human experience, and thereby becomes “universal.” (p. 30).
Did the interchange of gifts through the hole in the fence prompted similar or different responses from you? Were there parts of the story that brought home for you a similar or different idea than Neruda’s sharing of a common humanity? Reference: Bishop, R. S. (2003). Reframing the debate about cultural authenticity? In D. Fox & K.G. Short (Eds.), Stories matter: The complexity of cultural authenticity in children’s literature (pp. 25-37). Urbana, Ill: National Council of Teachers of English.
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- Themes: Carmen M. Martínez-Roldán, Dreamer, Pam Munoz Ryan
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As I re-read the section about the pine cone and the sheep, I am surprised at how little emotion it evoked in me on the first reading. When I read this passage the first time around, I think that what I was expecting was that this would be the moment in which Neftalí would make a real friend. When the friend never made his or her appearance, I think I felt disappointed for Neftalí. Now, reading it a second time, I realize how pivotal this moment actually was.
The moment that held the most emotion for me was Neftalí’s relationship with the swan. Ironically, I felt like this animal-person relationship was something common throughout humanity and the most easy to relate to, for me. As Neftalí nursed the swan back to health and ultimately saw its downward spiral, I was reminded of so many moments in my own childhood and of children I know who have gone through similar episodes. Children are able to bond with animals in a way that places almost as much importance on those friendships as on human friendships. And worldwide, we all seem to forget how important we considered these friendships, which then seem “silly” the older we get. So, although it’s not humanity in the sense that Neruda meant when he wrote about the exchange, I found much more emotion and meaning in Neftalí’s relationship with the swan than his brief exchange with the unknown neighbor.
Like Rachel, I don’t think I grasped the full meaning of the exchange of the sheep and the pinecone the first time I read it. I was also hoping the Neftali would meet the original owner of the pinecone and finally find a friend. For me, more than anything else, this passage contributed to the novel’s sense of whimsy. The idea of an unknown hand appearing through the fence and presenting Neftali with a precious gift reminds me of a fairy tale. Phrases like “small intake of breath” and “imagined a ghost” contribute to the air of magic.
After I read the passage, I wasn’t entirely sure that the exchange had actually taken place. I considered the possibility that Neftali had imagined the interaction as a byproduct of his creativity and loneliness. Later mentions of the sheep proved to me that interaction was real. I didn’t perceive the universal significance of this event for Pablo Neruda until I read the Author’s Note. Then I was struck by the symbolism of Neruda’s lifelong devotion to the sheep, even after it burned.
In the novel, Muñoz does an amazing job of capturing the “essence” of childhood. By essence, I mean a feeling, a belief system, a state of mind. These moments speak to the “universal human experience” because children, no matter where they are from, live in this dream-like world of endless possibilities. It’s more than just innocence; sometimes it’s clarity.
The scene in the forest has many palpable examples of this universal childhood essence. The chapter on page 79 starts out with Rodolfo saying, “Esas son hierbas, Neftalí, no flores.” It’s a great line to start off a chapter; Neftalí doesn’t realize that the weeds aren’t beautiful because he hasn’t been socialized to that reality. But he maybe likes how they look their smell, their shape; something about them probably is quite beautiful. Later in the chapter, he is speaking to Rodolfo about the Chucao. Rodolfo speaks about the bird rather matter-of-factly while Neftalí is enamored with this almost mythical creature. After learning that if it passes you on your right, you will have good luck instead of bad luck (on the left), Neftalí says, “ ‘Pero si oíster el pájaro a tu izquierda, por qué no te diste la vuelta?’ dijo Neftalí cambiando de direccíon” (82). It’s a statement that makes so much sense, and so obvious, yet needs the child point-of-view to make sense. If it passed on your left, why didn’t you just turn around? It highlights the fact that as we grow older, we grow to accept things for the way they are; we become complacent and don’t question the world around us. Because life is so new and adventurous, a child like Neftalí does not carry that burden and sees life quite clearly.
In response to Neruda’s idea that “all of humanity is somehow together . . . Just as I once left the pinecone by the fence, I have since left my words on the door of so many people who were unknown to me:” I think that this is a beautiful and important idea. Neruda’s mission is to connect all of humanity through his own story and his personal prose and poems, as suggested by Bishop in her article. I think that art such as Neruda’s is important to the human consciousness because it allows us to connect on an emotional level, be it through thoughts on love, loss, or humanity itself. These are questions and ideas that we all share, but do not always discuss. I believe that focusing on these shared traits can help us as humans realize that we are much more similar than we are different.
Muñoz’s passage about the pinecone and the sheep is an important one in the book, and it struck me as such the first time I read it. Neftalí is obviously in need of a friend; but more than that, the idea that “The giver could have been anyone in the world,” (132) alludes to the fact that each person in the world has something special to share with others. Everyone has a gift, and when we share this gift, our common situation as humans becomes relevant and important, much more so than any differences we may have.
I agree with Dan. Although Neftalí may be a bit more precocious of a child than most, he does embody the universal essence of what it is to be a child, regardless of culture or time period. So many innocent moments–such as the interaction with the friend behind the fence, the chucao comment, the herbs–touch us precisely because we all have a memory of having been that innocent. The question on my mind, then, is where does Neftalí diverge from this path of “normal childhood innocence” and have the courage to become the great writer that he had to fight so hard to become?
Similar to Megan, I initially read the passage about the other child, I wasn’t sure if it was a product of Neftali’s imagination or an actual child. Despite my initial confusion, I decided that maybe it didn’t matter in order to appreciate the story. If it was a real child, I would find out soon enough. If not, it was a clear indication that Neftali was yearning to interact with another boy of his ago.
If I were to teach this book, I would use this passage as an opportunity to spark a discussion among my students about imaginary friends. Some of my middle school students have trouble interacting positively with their peers, and having an imaginary friend would probably help decrease feelings of loneliness. At Neftali’s young age, it’s usually socially acceptable when a child talks about imaginary friends. As children get older, however, it’s taboo for a child to talk openly about this. As I reflect on this right now, I realize what a shame this is. We all feel lonely at times, and sometimes we yearn for connections that aren’t possible in a given moment. Why not play with an imaginary friend?