Cortazar's Tribute to Disillusion

Social standards are ever changing. The fictional works of Julio Cortazar offer insight to the human condition, and it's digression. "Our Demeanor at Wakes", "Axolotl", and "The Continuity of Parks" are three specific examples that show this trend. The fake presentation of care and the acceptance of suffering has lead to a world of disillusion.

The times of genuine compassion have fallen to the wayside. From newspaper headlines to phony facebook status updates, humans have become increasingly good at imitating genuine emotions. They have become so good at it in fact, that they often times believe their own fallacies. In Cortazar's short story, "Our Demeanor at Wakes", this is shown perfectly.

The reader is quickly introduce to a family of frauds. This family participates in a pass-time that is sick, twisted and disturbed. They are funeral crashers. More specifically, they deal in wakes. With a plan of precision they invade. Their movements, actions, and words are perfectly coordinated. The initial insertion begins swiftly. The soft sobs of the sister at the foot of the coffin gathers some attention. As soon as this initial task is accomplished, the onslaught begins. She begins to bellow, and let go of all control. The flood gates are opened, and act two proceeds to center stage. The takeover is underway before the family of the bereaved even has time to recognize it. From the tears of grown men, to heartfelt eulogies, the family pours it on, until the seizure is complete. Once their mission is seen through, they dismiss themselves in an orderly fashion.


This is more relatable to the world around us than it is not. The world around us is moving so fast, it is nearly impossible to grab hold of an emotion for long enough to even understand it. The complexities that are in the face of the masses that often times, things are said or done without rationale or thought.


Cortazar also tells a story of a little animal called an Axolotl. In "Axolotl", the audience is introduced to a stifled soul. A prisoner of the mind. The axolotl's that the reader comes to be is in an aquarium, in a zoo, in Paris. 


The initial introduction is made speedily. The axolotl lives in the rocky bottom of a fish tank. He has deep, reading eyes. He shows pain without speaking. He is one of many. He exists in an overpopulated and constricted world. Afraid to move, life for the little axolotl is a claustrophobic nightmare. The acceptance of this suffering has already taken place. He has doomed himself. He is a prisoner of his own doing. He is us. We are him.


Our lives are intermingled. Our damnation is self inflicted. We suffer the tragedies around us, because we condemn ourselves to it. We perpetuate the cycle of acceptance. The ability to distinguish ourselves from the little animal, who is not an animal, at the bottom of the tank is impossible. Our worlds are one and the same.


In "The Continuity of Parks", Cortazar shows that our eyes are closed. We burry ourselves in anything we can. We find websites, and forums in order to hide. Our only ability to escape the sad reality is in fictitious realms. The books, we go to the books. Disillusion is sought. It is fought for and killing takes place in it's name. The occasional breaks from this disillusion, only drives us to go back to it quicker, and for longer periods. Because when we look up, all we see is pain. All we see is fake lies. All we see is suffering. Disillusion is our answer.

We are the wood people... (Popol Vuh response)

So, these Mayans... whew. They sure did know how to put on a good show. All those Gods, clashing, and fighting; it's no wonder their society didn't make it. The basics of the Popol Vuh are this, make humans, get praised. This was quite a problem for the Mayan Gods, and their efforts failed time and time again.

The first of their failures was not in the success of the creation of life, but rather in the details. For their creations were just as they had intended. They were and are the animals that surround us. Yet even as the almighty Gods were genius enough to create life, they failed to give the animals language. In their haste they failed. For their inadequacies the animals would for the rest of eternity, be food.

Next, the Gods thought it appropriate to make their follow-up human out of mud. Yes... Mud. To no surprise, this effort failed very quickly. Without the ability to hold form or shape, these mud creatures collapsed and fell to the ground. They too, could not speak after they soaked the water from the earth. This is all not to mention, they didn't have any brains!

The final effort, before their supposed success, was the people made of wood. The story goes on to say that the people made of wood were given life by the Gods, and went forth and multiplied. They however, were without souls according to the Gods, and they forgot their creators. They did not speak their praise. For this, they were without use to the Gods, and so they too would be cursed. They were struck down and burned. They died in bountiful numbers, and according to leggend, those that survived went to the forests and inhabited the trees.

The story of creation in Popol Vuh goes on to say that the creation of man was, at long last, finally successful. I'm not so sure.

If you ask me, those wood people are still around. Living among us. The drones. The subordinate ass kissers. The lifeless robot people that act, and do without forethought or care. They plague us still. They are a part of our past, our presidencies and our future. They ravage our televisions with the filth of the garden state and the Palin-ution of Alaska. They are the wood people. They are still here.