El Aleph -- Shadows of a Dream

Where Ficciones dealt mostly in science fiction and the fantastic, the tone of El Aleph is darker, more somber. These short stories are, literally, shorter, and take on an almost didactic tone. Many claim to be quasi-historical (and history, to Borges, is both national and personal -- he brings in both the history of South America and characters from his own family in telling his tales) in nature, and these tend to deal with the theme of destiny. Indeed, the theme of the inescapable hand of fate, coupled with the notion that there is a moment in one's life when one's raison d'etre becomes clear, plays almost like a Leitmotif throughout this collection.

The gods are not playing with us. Indeed, the gods are almost absent -- though the beat of theology and philosophy play on, an ever-present reminder of the possibility of something just out of reach, something we are not quite meant to know, yet cannot help but ponder. And ponder it we do, in all seriousness, at times (as in La escritura de dios). And with that strange humor unique to Borges at others (as in El Aleph).

Of course, El Aleph gives us much to ponder: the nature of infinity, how a god might see the universe (or a universe). And, then, Borges seems to get his sense of humor back. For the bombastic poet the fictional Borges despises, the little-known librarian who wins second prize in a literary contest, is all too similar in life experience to the real-life Borges himself.

But there is always a place in literature for bloody revolution, inexorable fate, cold-blooded revenge, Medieval Spanish philosophers, references to Spengler's cyclicalism and to Cantor's set theory, and just a touch of snobbery and humor. And Borges has it all.

Tu que me lees, estas seguro de entender mi lenguaje?

Jorge Luis Borges's collection of short stories, Ficciones, is an incredible example of the author's imagination and originality, and shows just how far Latin American literature had come by the mid-twentieth century. Tackling such complex issues as the juxtaposition of chaos and order (Tlon Uqbar) or the order within chaos (La biblioteca de babel), as well as man's desire to reach for the divine in the same story, or the desire of the divine (or perhaps a gnostic demiurge) to create man (Las ruinas circulares). In the world of Tlon, of course, the author becomes a sort of god-like figure, creating, over generations, a fictional world that takes on a life of its own (in the end, our own world, in its desire for some sense of order at almost any cost, may be becoming the fictional Tlon). And, of course, there is the recurring motif of chance (azar) (La loteria de Babilonia, La muerte y la brujula).

Underlying it all is the very real sense that the process of writing is ongoing, never ending, and never the same thing twice (see, e.g., Pierre Menard, autor del Quijote), and that the reader herself is, if not a full on co-author, at least a partial collaborator in the process of authorship. For Borges takes us on a magical mystery tour and confronts us directly with this question: you who are reading me: are you sure you understand my language?

Which begs the obvious question: do two people ever speak the same language? Can author and reader, who are separated by time, space, language, and culture, ever truly experience the same story? Isn't this the whole point of Pierre Menard? The words are exactly the same, but it is an entirely different novel, informed by an entirely different time, culture, era, and experiences.

Another issue Borges takes on here, quite memorably, is the problem of time. Time, to Borges, is not chronological, but a series of many possible events happening simultaneously. Sometimes we are present, sometimes not. This is most clearly explained in El jardin de los senderos que se bifurcan. Time is also elusive, relative, and entirely personal, as we see in El milagro secreto, where two minutes are sufficient for an author and playwright to complete his final play. He is, secretly, granted his last wish -- the god he feared had abandoned him hears his prayer and gives him a year to finish his magnum opus, if only in the playwright's mind.

Borges's short stories allowed him to tackle many difficult themes head-on, and to do so with a sense of humor and self-deprecation (injecting himself directly and indirectly -- the "blind man" that makes the more than occasional appearance is reminiscent of Hitchcock's cameo's in his own films) that keep the reader entertained and, above all else, thinking of topics, themes, and subjects that are not easy, but that deserve consideration long after we have finished reading this collection. He was clearly well-read in a wide variety of subjects, from philosophy to theology, and feels secure enough in his knowledge and his audience to speak about these topics without condescending to us. There is a reason Borges has become so beloved throughout Latin America and beyond -- the accessibility of first impression of his short stories give way to a second (ad probably third) reading for many, many readers, who find themselves fascinated by a world filled with possibility, a world in which time is fluid, creation is ongoing, and our world may be just one dream of one half-drunk demiurge, on the verge of awakening.