Julio Cortázar, relatos, historias, cuentos, el arte de escribir cuentos, traducción Julio Cortázar () Axolotl (Final del juego, ). Hubo un tiempo en . For English dick hera «Axolotl» Julio Cortazar Hubo un tiempo en que yo pensaba . creyendo imaginar un cuento va a escribir todo esto sobre los axolotl . • Essay: “Axolotl” by Julio Cortázar:

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Análisis de “Axolotl” de Julio Cortázar. Uploaded by juanlopezjr Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd. Flag for inappropriate content. In “Axolotl” the first-person narrator-protagonist, who has no name, discovers a .. Antonio Pagés Larraya, "'Axolotl,' cuento de Julio Cortázar," Nueva Narrativa . This is a short story by Julio Cortázar. Julio Cortázar, "Axolotl" .. creyendo imaginar un cuento va a escribir todo esto sobre los axolotl.

There they have a daily audience on the commuter train for whom they pose as either attitudes envy, shame, fear, jealousy or statues Venus, for example. The game, which has been going on for more than a year, allows the girls to escape the ordinary world of the kitchen chores and the authority of their mother and aunt.

The game turns serious when a series of notes are thrown from the train by a young man named Ariel B. In one of the notes, Ariel declares that the prettiest is also the laziest, and the girls know that he is referring to Leticia. Ariel's final note says that he will visit the girls the next day. Leticia suffers from an unspecific disease, but one that is clearly paralytic and crippling, and she chooses not to meet Ariel; instead she writes a letter to him that Holanda delivers.

The climax of the game and story occurs the following day, when Leticia secretly takes both her mother's and aunt's jewelry, adorns herself for her final and most impressive statue, and Ariel leans out the window to look at her. The narrator and Holanda run to catch her and see the tears streaming down her face. The next day Leticia is ill, and Holanda and the narrator return to watch the train pass.

Ahora soy definitivamente un axolotl, y si pienso como un hombre es solo porque todo axolotl piensa como un hombre dentro de su imagen de piedra rosa. Me parece que de todo esto alcance a comunicarie algo en los primeros dias, cuando yo era todavia el. Y en esta soledad final, a la que el ya no vuelve, me consuela pensar que acaso va a escribir sobre nosotros, creyendo imaginar un cuento va a escribir todo esto sobre los axolotl. J ulio Cortazan ''Axolotr' There was a time when I thought a great deal about the axolotls.

Now I am an axolofl. I was heading down the boulevard Port Royal, then I took Saint- Marcel and L'Hopital and saw green among all that grey and remembered the lions.

I was friend of the lions and panthers, but had never gone into the dark, humid building that was the aquarium. I left my bike against the gratings and went to look at the tulips. The lions were sad and ugly and my panther was asleep.

I decided on the aquarium, looked obliquely at banal fish until, unexpectedly, I hit it off with the axolotis. I stayed watching them for an hour and left, unable to think of anything else. In the library at Sainte- Genevieve, I consulted a dictionary and learned that axolotis are the larval stage provided with gills of a species of salamander of the genus Amhystoma.

That they were Mexican I knew already by looking at them and their littie pink Aztec faces and the placard at the top of the tank. I read that specimens of them had been found in Africa capable of living on dry land during the periods of drought, and continuing their life under water when the rainy season came.

I found their Spanish name, ajolote, and the mention that they were edible, and that their oil was used no longer used, it said like cod liver oil. I didn't care to look up any of the specialized works, but the next day I went back to the Jardin des Plantes.

I began to go every moming, moming and aftemoon some days. The aquarium guard smiled perplexedly taking my ticket. I would lean up against the iron bar in front of the tanks and set to watching them.

There's nothing strange in this, because after the first minute I knew that we were linked, that something infinitely lost and distant kept pulling us together. It had been enough to detain me that first moming in front of the sheet of glass where some bubbles rose through the water.

The axolotis huddled on the wretched narrow only I can know how narrow and wretched floor of moss and stone in the tank. Disconcerted, almost ashamed, I felt it a lewdness to be peering at these silent and immobile figures heaped at the bottom of the tank.

Mentally I isolated one, situated on the right and somewhat apart from the others, to study it better. I saw a rosy little body, translucent I thought of those Chinese figurines of milky glass , looking like a small lizard about six inches long, ending in a fish's tail of extraordinary delicacy, the most sensitive part of our body.

Along the back ran a transparent fin which joined with the tail, but what obsessed me was the feet, of the slenderest nicety, ending in tiny fingers with minutely human nails. And then I discovered its eyes, its face. Inexpressive features, with no other trait save the eyes, two orifices, like brooches, wholly of transparent gold, lacking any life but looking, letting themselves be penetrated by my look, which seemed to travel past the golden level and lose itself in a diaphanous interior mysteiy.

A very slender black halo ringed the eye and etched it onto the pink flesh, onto the rose stone of the head, vaguely triangular, but with curved and triangular sides which gave it a total likeness to a statuette corroded by time. The mouth was masked by the triangular plane of the face, its considerable size would be guessed only in profile; in front a delicate crevice barely slit the lifeless stone.

On both sides of the head where the ears should have been, there grew three tiny sprigs, red as coral, a vegetal outgrowth, the gills, I suppose. And they were the only thing quick about it; every ten or fifteen seconds the sprigs pricked up stiffly and again subsided.

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Once in a while a foot would barely move, I saw the diminutive toes poise mildly on the moss. It's that we don't enjoy moving a lot, and the tank is so cramped - we barely move in any direction and we're hitting one of the others with our tail or our head - difficulties arise, fights, tiredness.

The time feels like it's less if we stay quietly.

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It was their quietness that made me lean toward them fascinated the first time I saw the axolotls. Obscurely I seemed to understand their secret will, to abolish space and time with an indifferent immobility.

I knew better later; the gill contraction, the tentative reckoning of the delicate feet on the stones, the abrupt swimming some of them swim with a simple undulation of the body proved to me that they were capable of escaping that mineral lethargy in which they spent whole hours.

Above all else, their eyes obsessed me. In the standing tanks on either side of them, different fishes showed me the simple stupidity of their handsome eyes so similar to our own. The eyes of the axolotis spoke to me of the presence of a different life, of another way of seeing. Glueing my face to the glass the guard would cough fussily once in a while , I tried to see better those diminutive golden points, that entrance to the infinitely slow and remote world of these rosy creatures.

It was useless to tap with one finger on the glass directiy in front of their faces; they never gave the least reaction. The golden eyes continued burning with their soft, terrible light; they continued looking at me from an unfathomable depth which made me dizzy.

Análisis de “Axolotl” de Julio Cortázar

And nevertheless they were close. I knew it before this, before being an axoloti. I learned it the day I came near them for the first time. The anthropomorphic features of a monkey reveal the reverse of what most people believe, the distance that is traveled from them to us.

The absolute lack of similarity between axolotis and human beings proved to me that my recognition was valid, that I was not propping myself up with easy analogies. Only the littie hands But an eft, the common newt, has such hands also, and we are not at all alike.

I think it was the axolotis' heads, that triangular pink shape with the tiny eyes of gold. That looked and knew. That laid the claim. They were not animals. It would seem easy, almost obvious, to fall into mythology. I began seeing in the axolotis a metamorphosis which did not succeed in revoking a mysterious humanity. I imagined them aware, slaves of their bodies, condemned infinitely to the silence of the abyss, to a hopeless meditation. Their blind gaze, the diminutive gold disc without expression and nonetheless terribly shining, went through me like a message: "Save us, save us.

They continued to look at me, immobile; from time to time the rosy branches of the gills stiffened.

In that instant I felt a muted pain; perhaps they were seeing me, attracting my strength to penetrate into the impenetrable thing of their lives. They were not human beings, but I had found in no animal such a profound relation with myself. The axolotls were like witnesses of something, and at times like horrible judges.

I felt ignoble in front of them; there was such a terrifying purity in those transparent eyes. They were larvas, but larva means disguise and also phantom. Behind those Aztec faces, without expression but of an implacable cruelty, what semblance was awaiting its hour?

I was afraid of them. I think that had it not been for feeling the proximity of other visitors and the guard, I would not have been bold enough to remain alone with them. I think that had it not been for feeling the proximity of other visitors and the guard, I would not have been bold enough to remain alone with them.

What he didn't notice was that it was they devouring me slowly with their eyes, in a cannibalism of gold. He even imagines their eyes reflecting, seeing "in the dead of night," for "the eyes of axolotls have no lids" 7.

At one point the protagonist wants to prove himself strong. He doubts for a moment the axolotls's narcissistic attraction: Hopelessly, I wanted to prove to myself that my own sensibility was projecting a nonexistent consciousness upon the axolotls.

They and I knew. So there was nothing strange in what happened. I saw from very close up the face of an axolotl immobile next to the glass. No transition and no surprise, I saw my face against the glass, I saw it on the outside of the tank, I saw it on the other side of the glass. Then my face drew back and I understood.

"Axolotl" by Julio Cortázar

The rendition is extremely narcissistic: Outside, my face came close to the glass again, I saw my mouth, the lips compressed with the efforts of understanding the axolotls. I was an axolotl and now I knew instantly that no understanding was possible.

He was outside the aquarium, his thinking was a thinking outside the tank. Recognizing him, being him himself, I was an axolotl and in my world. The horror began. Where there had once existed a type of communication between the two, even though it was an infatuation — a weak sexual bond — now there is no closeness. This type of superficial passion comes very close to some critics' 14 definition of narcissism: "Promiscuity is common, intimacy rare — and deeply feared.

Moreover, the poet's temperament allowed him but little influence from Greek poetics; however, it openly surrendered him to an admiration for the plastic arts:.

As Keats visualizes Hellenic traditions in their two manifestations mythology and the plastic arts , he romanticizes them in his own way, having learned to appreciate best their sensual and sentimental values.

Keats will praise flower and tree with a richness of hues never realized in Greek poetry, which was always more reserved; instead of schematizing the narcissus in its youthful symbolism and pretending to be unaware of it, his poetry will venerate the myth while conserving feelings and images for the narcissus despoiled of all cultivated alliances — a simple flower held up in all its beauty.

He achieved the abolition of time through an aesthetic miracle. What the Imagination seizes as Beauty must be Truth — whether it existed before or not. The Imagination may be compared to Adam's dream: he awoke and found it truth.

Cortázar, Julio

I have never yet been able to perceive how any thing can be known for truth by consequitive [consequent] reasoning. In its stead he has produced an interpenetration of two levels of "fictional reality" — one rational, the other surreal — both of which serve to negate the positivistic, scientific vision of reality.

In "Axolotl" the protagonist has broken the "law of permutationi" by willing himself to be an axolotl. NOTES 1.

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Margery A. The reader exerts most of his effort in attempting to visualize the creature.Y en esta soledad final, a la que el ya no vuelve, me consuela pensar que acaso va a escribir sobre nosotros, creyendo imaginar un cuento va a escribir todo esto sobre los axolotl. I left my bike against the gratings and went to look at the tulips.

I was friend of the lions and panthers, but had never gone into the dark, humid building that was the aquarium. I think that had it not been for feeling the proximity of other visitors and the guard, I would not have been bold enough to remain alone with them.

Oscuramente me parecio comprender su voluntad secreta, abolir el espacio y el tiempo con una inmovilidad indiferente. Ariel is an ironic intertext for the story, for all of its optimism and hope for the future seems contrary to the unspoken loss of dreams that the girls suffer when they realize what the future holds for Leticia. Se me ocurre que al principio continuamos comunicados, que el se sentia mas que nunca unido al misterio que lo obsesionaba. Lejos del acuario no hacia mas que pensar en ellos, era como si me influyeran a distancia.