This is an absolute must for any Mexican studying abroad. Every school includes it on their resume. The book vividly depicts Mexican culture, highlighting its pros and cons, its lacks and virtues, and the ideas that have been firmly ingrained in the minds of every Mexican-born and Mexican-raised individual. It is like a genetic mapping of a culture.

I truly adored the book. I felt a certain sense of identification, and the prose is both beautiful and precise. Although I still don't consider Octavio Paz to be the best Mexican writer (even though he is the only one with a Nobel Prize), nor do I think this is his best book in terms of quality writing, it is undoubtedly his most transcendental and important work.

This collection of essays showcases all the beauty, magic, and hidden sins within Mexican culture. I wholeheartedly recommend it to everyone who has a special affinity for essays.

Five out of five stars. Another unforgettable book.

The book that every Mexican should read, I took so long to finish it despite its short length because it is impossible to digest so much reality at once. One has to analyze it, think about it, and give it the opportunity to take root in our conscience.

Octavio Paz's work remains current and firm over the years. We have changed so much yet remain the same as always, with the ever-present PRI and the same old problems. The race of the defeated and of the, a term not yet coined but already present in the unconscious, already a merit.

It is a profound and thought-provoking piece that forces us to confront the hard truths about our society and ourselves. We need to take the time to truly understand and internalize its message if we hope to bring about any real change.

As we move forward in this ever-changing world, we must not forget the lessons of the past. Octavio Paz's work serves as a reminder of the importance of self-reflection and the need to constantly strive for a better future.

We often hear reproaches against men who have not fulfilled their destinies. However, should we not also grieve for the ill fortune of a woman who was superior to both her society and her culture?

For Lévi-Strauss, there is an essential difference between poetry and myth: myth can be translated and poetry is untranslatable. I believe the opposite. I believe that myth and poetry are translatable, though translation implies transmutation or resurrection. A poem by Baudelaire, translated into Spanish, is another poem and it is the same poem.

Tell me how you die and I will tell you who you are.

Unlike many works of this kind, I cannot say that reading it earlier would have guaranteed it a higher rating. What we have here is a mix of fact and fiction, with opinions that range from incredibly incisive to horribly defensive and antagonistic. It's like a deck of cards where any hand will give you both the poetical and the political, at least as much as slices and snapshots of life will do. I really wanted to give five stars for the excellent portions, but there are huge holes in the false assumptions and cowardly conclusions. I have no doubt that Paz knew his intended audience, and the fact that some (Nobel Prize Laureates are not all the same, and where the contemporaneous judges were not blindly myopic, the hordes of armchair critics certainly have been) come away as enamored as ever shows how well he gauges the readership. I was originally drawn in by this, but adhering to it would defeat the purpose of reading this in the first place.

The sadism underlying many relationships in contemporary North American life may be just a way to escape the petrification imposed by the doctrine of aseptic moral purity.

Any contact with the Mexican people, no matter how brief, reveals that ancient beliefs and customs still exist beneath Western forms. These living remains testify to the vitality of the pre-Cortesian cultures. Over and above the fascination or horror they inspire in us, we must admit that when the Spaniards arrived in Mexico, they found complete and refined civilizations.

What this comes down to is that for someone like me, with my ideals and who knows countries across the ocean better than the one next door, this was almost required reading. However, in terms of my goal to build a true awareness of the 21st century in what is called "the global south," this is almost a failure. It will take a lot of work to separate Paz's many instances of compassion and insight from his fatalistic, almost sadistic, "have my cake and eat it too" attitude and his general refusal to follow his arguments to the end. So, this is an incisive, well-thought-out, but at times frustrating collection of musings on Mexico and much of what grounds it in reality. I'd love to love it wholeheartedly, but Paz calls for critique as part of building a more humane humanity, and so I can only respond accordingly.

The past returned, dressed up in the trappings of progress, science, and republican laws, but with no fecundity. It could only produce rebellion.

Liberal thought was both a critical instrument and a utopian construction, and it contained some explosive principles. Extending its sway would have prolonged anarchy. The era of peace required a philosophy of order. The primitive, abstract, and revolutionary principle of the equality of men was replaced by the theory of the struggle for existence and the survival of the fittest. Positivism gave the social hierarchies a new justification. Inequalities were now explained by science, not by race, inheritance, or religion.

As with most thinkers, Paz is at his best when he writes about what he has actually lived. The history of Mexico, both before and after colonialism, the evolution of economic drivers and political theories, the influences of major powers, especially the United States, what was promised centuries ago and how the students of Mexico were treated when Paz was writing - these are not areas I have easily come across in my usual way of reading. At times, reading this was the most delicious crash course one could ask for on any subject, not just the ones at hand. At other times, especially at the beginning and end, Paz was just another out-of-touch whiner. He completely misjudged the social structure needs of young Mexican immigrants in the US and pretended to know about "Arabs" and "Muslims" when he clearly didn't understand the history of the last 500 years. Sure, Paz didn't have access to the same information as we do today, but how did he think the Ancient Greek and Roman ideals survived? Magic? Aliens? Or perhaps Arab translators who were paid well to rescue those texts and then transmit them back during the Crusades and the Renaissance? No, surely not. That would make heroes out of those civilizations that are now the villains of the world, lest the Eurocentric project of the last half-millennium fall apart.

Imperialism has prevented us from achieving "historical normality," and the ruling classes of Mexico have no other mission but to collaborate with a foreign power, either as administrators or associates. It is possible for bankers and intermediaries to take over the government. Their methods would not be much different from those of the great landholders under Díaz: they would govern from behind the mask of the Revolution, just as Díaz governed from behind the mask of liberalism.

In Europe and the United States, the intellectual has been deprived of power. He lives in exile, as far as the state is concerned, and wields his influence from outside the government, with criticism as his main mission.

A Mexican philosophy would have to take into account not only the ambiguity of our tradition but also that of our will-to-be, which demands recognition of our individuality but only if that recognition is joined with a universal solution to our problems.

Paz can name many Mexican thinkers (although it seems no Mexican woman has thought since Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz), give credit to the indigenous civilizations that continue to enrich Mexico's thought, forms, and culture (although it's doubtful he ever interacted with the people of those communities), and have no tolerance for the calcified bureaucracies that form the foundation of both the communist gulag and the capitalist military-industrial complex (but would rather stay in academia than admit that the solution to his concerns is the democratic anarchosocialists he was exposed to during his father's service to the Zapatista movement). It was also rather tragicomic to watch him constantly finagle in the last few pages about how Mexico has so much potential but can't hold it together, when it's almost certain that if the Mexican government had pulled itself together enough to not shoot down hundreds of its own citizens, many of them students, protesting for progressive reform in 1968, the United States would have intervened, as it did in many other Latin American countries, and propped up even worse people. This is just one example of how, if Paz had stopped kowtowing for a moment and followed his own thought processes, this could have been a phenomenal work that would add the specifically Mexican blood and skin to the brains and bone of Galeano's Open Veins of Latin America. The problem is, would he have won the Nobel Prize for Literature for such a work, and would I have become aware of him as young as I did without it? I doubt it, and so it goes.

The "advanced" nations calmly reply that it's all a matter of "natural economic laws" over which humans have little control. They talk as if we were living in the early 19th century. In fact, the law they're talking about is the law of the lion's share.

There's also the fact that private capital is not interested in the kind of investments we need: those with long terms and small profits. On the contrary, it looks for opportunities that promise better and faster earnings. The capitalist cannot and will not get involved in a general plan for economic development.

Fifty pages into this, I thought I wouldn't have to bother with The Monkey Grammarian or any of Paz's other works, as I would have gotten what I needed with minimal fuss. Fifty pages before the end, I had earmarked twice to ten times as many sections for further review as in books twice its length, and I had to admit that, as much as I wanted to throttle Paz at times, he was worth more critical attention than many writers (of which there are very few these days) that I fully support. Despite how much he'd hate to be associated with it, the form of critique that Paz holds as the ultimate savior of humanity as a sociopolitical process in my country today would have to be Critical Race Theory, and the fact that the mainstream response to it (including from liberals) has been close-minded and scathing is stronger evidence than anything I could come up with on my own. It comes down to how much time Paz spent observing the human condition and tracing the basic mechanisms (needs, habitus, economic sustainability) in the context of who has lost and who has been winning, and how much time he spent pointing fingers at everyone except the latest descendants of the ancestors who have made selfish brutality a traditional path of righteousness and a code of honorable morality. Of course, now that US President Biden has declared anticapitalists subject to antiterrorism laws and police abuse (where's your harm reduction now, liberals?), such mincing of words will likely become even more fashionable in my country. However, the US is not Mexico, and if there's one thing I've learned from reading this book, it's that I have decades of unlearning the contemptuous brainwashing that WASP media has subjected my brain to regarding that country to the south. And just as the Mexican government got some ideals right that the US is still demonizing today, there are also sparks of hope that I'm not hearing about. Are some of those sparks of hope as insightful and hateful as Paz was? Probably. Is there a chance that, in this hyperconnected age, they are learning, just as I am? I hope so.

Let us forget for a moment the crimes and stupidities committed in the name of development from Communist Russia to India, from the Argentina of Perón to the Egypt of Nasser, and let us look at what is happening in the United States and Western Europe: the destruction of the ecological balance, the contamination of lungs and spirits, the psychic damage to the young, the abandonment of the elderly, the erosion of sensibilities, the corruption of the imagination, the debasement of sex, the accumulation of wastes, the explosions of hatred. Faced with all this, how can we not turn away and seek another mode of development?

One of the very few encouraging aspects of the modern situation is that everywhere culture is critical and anti-authoritarian.

A plural society, without a majority or minorities: not all of us are happy in my political utopia, but at least all of us are responsible.

Paz writes with remarkable clarity. His beautiful and complete prose serves as a guiding light, revealing his homeland to the passing strangers who are the readers of the book. However, it is also filled with ambiguities. As he leads you through the questions raised and answered, the very essence of the Mexican character, which is both to be and not to be, becomes evident.

The same themes are present throughout the book. He presents similar ideas in different forms and essays, adding depth and complexity to his exploration. In the first section of the book, the chapters are well-structured, gradually bringing a point across to the readers.

Nevertheless, it would have received a 5-star rating if not for the second part of the book. I found this section to be denser and more emotionally charged, lacking the same level of control and clarity. Despite this, the overall work is a significant contribution to the understanding of Mexican culture and identity.

This is what is called a book. In fact, it is the translation of the last chapter of the book "A Thousand Years of Solitude" by Gabriel García Márquez. And - at least in its current form - it doesn't have much to say. I, who couldn't understand the translator's motivation for translating only one chapter of a book and publishing it as an independent book, the translator himself didn't talk about the reason for this choice in the preface either.

It seems rather strange to present just a single chapter as a whole book. One would expect a more comprehensive work when seeing the title.

Maybe the translator had some specific intentions or considerations that are not clear from the given text. However, without further explanation, it leaves the readers a bit confused and wondering about the purpose behind this translation and publication.

It would be interesting to know if there are any plans to release the full translation of the entire "A Thousand Years of Solitude" in the future, or if this single chapter is meant to serve as a teaser or introduction to the larger work.

Overall, while the translation of this chapter may have its own merits, the way it is presented as a standalone book raises some questions and leaves room for further exploration and understanding.

This pocket book, which according to the translator (in the preface) is the final chapter or appendix of a larger book (Hazrat's Solitude), has an impact on our reception and evaluation of this article-book. If only the main book were more completely translated and published.

In fact, the fragmented style of this book also stems from here. The author has brought together all the important topics of the book in this appendix and attempts to establish a relationship between them (perhaps), and it is a big mistake to consider it as an independent work and criticize its lack of coherence (to the extent that the translator has mistakenly arranged and translated it independently of the entire text of the book).

This is about the structure (load-bearing) of the book.

However, if we set aside the poetic and sometimes cumbersome style of the article, we are faced with interesting and original topics (at least at the time of its writing), and I must admit that it has tempted me to read the main book. The author approaches the concept of solitude from an existentialist perspective and very quickly deals with the relationship between solitude and love and then the place of love in today's society. And it is strange that his sentences about society's view of love and family in today's world have attracted a certain type of Iranian to himself and are still fresh for me.

But I really liked the personal way in which the author links the dialectical problem of solitude (separation from the world and connection to a new world) to myths and their role in the stability of social cohesion. I don't know how much Octavio Paz was familiar with Mircea Eliade's ideas, but when he talks about the time of myths and the role of myths and religious symbols in breaking the siege of time and creating a distant time, the strong presence of Eliade's idea of the eternal return is felt.

Also, at the end, Paz correctly reminds us of the rejection of life and the recreation of myths in our seemingly scientific world, and it reminds me of the sentence that Freud wrote in a letter to Einstein, saying that perhaps science is also a myth (quoted in the text).

Note: Based on my argument at the beginning of the note, I do not give this book a star for evaluation.

A labyrinth, by its very essence, is a place where one gets lost. In his book-length essay The Labyrinth of Solitude (1950), the Nobel Prize-winning Mexican poet and essayist Octavio Paz delves into his interest in how both humans in general and the people of Mexico specifically become lost in solitude and attempt to find their way out. During this exploration, Paz presents one of the most profound and perceptive examinations ever on the life, history, and culture of Mexico. This essay is combined with four others in the singularly powerful 1985 collection titled The Labyrinth of Solitude and Other Writings.

Over his career, Paz had a diverse range of experiences. He studied law, wrote long poems with a modernist inclination, served as Mexico's Ambassador to India, and taught at Cambridge and Cornell universities. However, this brief description of his work does not do justice to the elegance of his writing, whether in poetry or prose, nor to the breadth and catholicity of his interests. Reading El laberinto de la soledad, like reading any of Paz's poetry, offers the pleasure of spending time in the company of a truly great mind.

In The Labyrinth of Solitude, Paz emphasizes that solitude is not an exclusively Mexican trait. Yet, by evoking various archetypes of Mexican culture, such as the pachuco and the celebration of the Day of the Dead, he suggests that Mexicans often mask themselves as a form of self-protection. The multiple and overlapping aspects of Mexico's history, including the legacy of pre-Columbian Indigenous nations, the Spanish conquest, independence, and the Revolution of 1910, have all contributed to and exacerbated this tendency to "mask up" in response to the harshness and dangers of life. These layers of masking create the "labyrinth of solitude" from which it is difficult to escape.
For example, in discussing religion in Mexico, Paz notes how the Spanish conquest led to the failure of the old gods to protect the Indigenous people. The introduction of Catholicism, despite the trauma it brought, provided a new religion that resembled the old ones in its child-to-parent relationship with divinity. However, this relationship has remained relatively inactive and unfruitful.
The same pattern holds true for politics, festivals, and gender relations in Mexico. The historically imposed layers weigh on each other, forcing the individual Mexican to "mask up" once again to resolve the contradictions. And the more masks one wears and the longer they are worn, the deeper and more intense the solitude one experiences.
The labyrinthine nature of The Labyrinth of Solitude becomes clear towards the end of the essay. Paz focuses on the labyrinth archetype as it appears in the myths of Perseus and the Fisher King, suggesting that humans have been expelled from the center of the world and are condemned to search for it through various means. Yet, the essay ends on a somewhat hopeful note, as Paz returns to his earlier discussion of Mexico's fiestas and states that myths and fiestas allow man to emerge from his solitude and become one with creation.
The other essays in The Labyrinth of Solitude and Other Writings are also significant. "The Other Mexico" continues the ideas from The Labyrinth of Solitude and looks at the divide between the prosperous and the poor in Mexico, particularly in the context of the 1968 Olympics and the Tlatelolco Massacre. "Return to The Labyrinth of Solitude" is an interview that provides Paz's thoughts on change and continuity in Mexico over the 25 years since the original essay was written, as well as his reflections on how it was received. "Mexico and the United States" examines the different religious and cultural antecedents of these two North American republics and offers a warning to Americans about their foreign policies. And "The Philanthropic Ogre" presents Paz's gloomy reflections on the state of the Mexican government and the power of the PRI.
Overall, The Labyrinth of Solitude is a remarkable work that offers profound insights into the Mexican psyche and the country's history and culture. It is a book that demands to be read and reread, and it will undoubtedly continue to be relevant for years to come. I was truly impressed by this book, and I believe it is one of the most important works ever written by a Mexican author or about Mexico.

The Labyrinth of Solitude: Life and Thought in Mexico by Octavio Paz is a fascinating exploration of the National Mexican Identity. However, I had my initial doubts. Anthropologists and cultural critics often claim that projects aiming to define a national character are impossible and misguided. Nations are made up of diverse peoples with different cultural traditions, historical backgrounds, and economic classes. How could we generalize and find a single characteristic that fits all? And even if we did, what would be the point? I was skeptical of Paz's assertion that the Mexican never reveals his True Character and is always wearing a mask. Are all Mexicans like this? Probably not. But it's interesting to consider why Paz, the renowned Mexican poet, reached this conclusion.

Paz spends a significant amount of time grappling with the problem of creating something Truly Mexican. He, like many other Latin American authors, believes that Mexico's True Authentic Literature has yet to be written. Up until now, everything has just been a copy of Europe. He argues that they need to break free from this tradition and create something new, authentic, and their own. But this is paradoxical on many levels. For example, how can the Mexican create something authentic when their True Identity is to hide behind a mask? Also, Mexico was colonized by Europeans, and modern Mexican culture is a blend of colonial Spaniards, indígenos, and African slaves. So, there will always be elements of European tradition in Mexican art. Even if they did create something original and separate from Europe, it would still be a response to Europe.

Paz argues that these paradoxes shape the Mexican Character. He quotes "Viva Mexico, hijos de la chingada!" and suggests that the Mexican is born from the violated woman, La Malinche. Despite the country's foundation on colonialism, slavery, and the destruction of cultures, the current culture is a mix of European, indígeno, and African elements. So, how can they differentiate themselves from their oppressors while still acknowledging their roots? Paz comes close to a solution of acceptance on page 103. He refuses to justify colonial society but wants to understand it as a living and contradictory whole. He also mentions that Mexicans should strive to transcend their National Character and create art that is truly Universal. However, I was concerned that the term "Universal" might be code for "Relatable to Any Upper-Class White Dude!" Paz clarifies that by Universal, he means that the struggles in the Orient are related to their own, and their nationalism should search the whole world. He recognizes that their alienation is not unique and is shared by a majority of the world's peoples.
Overall, The Labyrinth of Solitude is a thought-provoking work that I would recommend to anyone interested in Latin American history, culture, or literature. Reading it concurrently with Paz's poetry is also rewarding, as many of the concepts in the book are touched on in his poetry. For example, the idea of two colliding stars representing two solitary Mexicans striving for communion, or True Love as an act of Radical Transgression. The immobile Mexican sun is described as "the eternity of the poetic instant," and there are various ways to conceive of time. There is so much to explore and discover in Paz's work.

The Labyrinth of Solitude: Life and Thought in Mexico offers a deep and complex look at the Mexican Identity and the challenges of creating authentic art in a post-colonial context. It is a must-read for anyone interested in understanding the rich and diverse culture of Latin America.

El Laberinto de la soledad is the masterpiece of the Cervantes Prize and Nobel Prize winner Octavio Paz. It is an essay that every Mexican should read, but be careful not at just any moment or by imposition, as it is a rather dense work and not so easy to read. In fact, I think I got lost in some points and perhaps many I didn't know how to interpret. Even so, I think I understood the majority. I knew what Paz was trying to convey and what he was referring to in many things.

This essay is a description of Mexico and all of us who live and have lived in it, from the times of the conquest until the moment the work was written (and much of what follows still applies to the present). Our customs, our economy, and why we are not a first-world country, our popular jargon including vulgarities and jokes. In short, everything that makes us Mexicans, but from a critical point of view with nothing held back. And despite all that the book deals with, I think Paz's intention is to direct this book to a somewhat more prepared public who reads because, as I mentioned, it is not so easy to read and capture everything he wants to convey.

It is a thought-provoking work that challenges us to reflect on our identity as Mexicans and the issues that have shaped our country. It is a must-read for those who want to have a deeper understanding of Mexico and its people.

The book "Dialectics of Solitude" is the last chapter and in fact a summary of the book "A Thousand Solitudes" by Octavio Paz. Perhaps the incomplete translation of the book has made it difficult to judge. The book, although not very long and wide, has a lot of depth and is relatively heavy. As the name of the book implies, the foundation of the book is solitude. The beginning of the book talks about love and how many rules and customs prevent true love from emerging, and marriage, rules, and the way of looking at it have caused people to move away from true love, which is one of the factors of solitude. Later, it also deals with issues such as the modernization of society and the overemphasis on work. Other issues dealt with include life and death, religion and belief, myths and their relationship with solitude. I do not agree with more than half of the author's views.

This book seems to offer a profound exploration of the concept of solitude, but I find myself at odds with many of the author's perspectives. While some of the ideas presented may have merit, I believe that there are other factors that contribute to solitude that the author may have overlooked.

Additionally, the way in which the author presents these ideas can be somewhat dense and difficult to understand. It would have been helpful if the author had provided more examples or illustrations to clarify their points.

Overall, while "Dialectics of Solitude" may be an interesting read for those interested in the topic of solitude, I do not think it is a particularly convincing or comprehensive work.

What does it mean to be Mexican? Probably one can be Mexican in many ways without despising or praising certain attitudes and ideologies. Octavio Paz analyzes in this book a general mentality of the Mexican in his time, which is still valid in our era.

The main argument revolves around the fact that the mentality of the Mexican, which is recognized for its pessimism, resignation, defeatism, etc., is due to historical events in our country, from the conquest to the revolution. What stood out the most was that this mentality is originated by a feeling of alienation, of not belonging or not feeling identified, which leads the Mexican to be closed and to be ashamed to show his true self.

I found this cultural analysis very important and I recommend it because in some fragments I felt identified, even without me knowing that I had that mentality. This edition of the book contains additional revisions on other topics, which added more depth to it.

Overall, Octavio Paz's work offers a profound exploration of the Mexican psyche, shedding light on the complex factors that have shaped it over time. It is a must-read for anyone interested in understanding Mexican culture and identity.

The beginning of the article was good and powerful, and in a way, it was an exciting and promising start that attracted me.

However, as the article progressed, it became weaker and weaker, like a confused and tangled strand that got knotted up and in the end, this knot did not come undone. The writing, without reaching a final analysis and in other words, "losing its count," ended up being lost and tangled, perhaps this incomplete state, this tangling and indeterminacy, whether desired or not, is a reflection of the very situation that the author has called the dialectic of loneliness.

It seems that here the form has taken precedence over the content, and more than the content, it is the author's words that are being expressed.