Do you know Young Goodman Brown?

I recently read Young Goodman Brown, before this I had had no personal contact with Nathaniel Hawthorne. I only knew he wrote The Scarlett Letter, which I know is a popular book, since it is required reading in some high schools.
I must say my inexperience with Hawthorne slapped me in the face when I read this short story, I loved it. I perceived this story as an allegorical piece, resonating with truth, despair and human nature.
The action is set in Puritanical New England and it touches upon the themes of good vs. evil and its' role in human nature. The premise is: a man sets out on a journey at dusk, leaving his faithful wife behind, to go on an evil purpose.
To start of with the allegories in this story, first, the names given, the protagonist's wife, Faith, being his wife, tied to him with the strings of love, his love and his faith, stands as a symbol of faith and all the things in this world that are good and pure. She is the string that pulls the protagonist in one direction in the beginning yet after a decisive point becomes the antagonist. She represents the essence of what Mr. Brown is in danger of losing as he goes about his evil business. 
Besides her representation, there exits the man that Mr. Brown meets on his journey through the woods. This man is not presented as sinister but as brooding, a learned traveler that resembles the protagonist. His resemblance signals his character in the protagonist's life, his active role in familiarizing himself with his prey and making himself seem relatable and harmless.
Then, onto the journey itself, the one Young Goodman Brown undertakes that stretches into the twilight hours of the night. This journey is life, the one that every human undertakes, walking through deep secluded woods, among dark paths, verdant and lush yet dark and sinister.
As the protagonist progresses in his journey he encounters doubts and truths that cause him to waver in many aspects: life, faith, sin, human nature. All this leaves him drained when he encounters what seem to be a "witch" gathering or what I'd prefer calling a gathering of sinners, of those who've strayed. In the midst of this, Young Goodman Brown comes to the conclusion of how he will lead his life, his perspective changes and his will is sealed. He undegoes a transformation that echoes for the rest of his days.
To end, I say that this short story by Nathaniel Hawthorme is vividly and masterfully written. If you haven't read it, do so.

"Say thy prayers, dear Faith, and go to bed at dusk, and no harm will come to thee."

Julio Cortázar

I recently stumbled upon an excellent interview on one of the greatest Latin American authors, Julio Cortázar.

For those that haven't read his works, I highly recommend him. He is a master at writing short stories as well as longer works of literature.

Here is an excerpt form the interview:

INTERVIEWER

You have said at various times that, for you, literature is like a game. In what ways?

CORTÁZAR

For me, literature is a form of play. But I’ve always added that there are two forms of play: football, for example, which is basically a game, and then games that are very profound and serious. When children play, though they’re amusing themselves, they take it very seriously. It’s important. It’s just as serious for them now as love will be ten years from now. I remember when I was little and my parents used to say, “Okay, you’ve played enough, come take a bath now.” I found that completely idiotic, because, for me, the bath was a silly matter. It had no importance whatsoever, while playing with my friends was something serious. Literature is like that—it’s a game, but it’s a game one can put one’s life into. One can do everything for that game.

INTERVIEWER

When did you become interested in the fantastic? Were you very young?

CORTÁZAR

It began in my childhood. Most of my young classmates had no sense of the fantastic. They took things as they were . . . this is a plant, that is an armchair. But for me, things were not that well defined. My mother, who’s still alive and is a very imaginative woman, encouraged me. Instead of saying, “No, no, you should be serious,” she was pleased that I was imaginative; when I turned towards the world of the fantastic, she helped by giving me books to read. I read Edgar Allan Poe for the first time when I was only nine. I stole the book to read because my mother didn’t want me to read it; she thought I was too young and she was right. The book scared me and I was ill for three months, because I believed in it . . . dur comme fer as the French say. For me, the fantastic was perfectly natural; I had no doubts at all. That’s the way things were. When I gave those kinds of books to my friends, they’d say, “But no, we prefer to read cowboy stories.” Cowboys were especially popular at the time. I didn’t understand that. I preferred the world of the supernatural, of the fantastic.

Alas, I am still working on finishing  the first book of the Tale of Genji. Désolé... There will be a post for that soon.