How I Became a Nun

I found myself utterly wrapped up in this book. The beginning and end are both cheap gimmicks, which I would have enjoyed more if the interior portion of the novel had also been a gimmick, but what other reviewers on this site have called "vignettes" or "set pieces" I saw completely differently -- as the staggeringly accurate evocation of a state of mind, a way of being.I've rarely seen an author "get" childhood in this way. These "vignettes" are not disconnected from each other, but rather supply a view from different angles upon the same consciousness. It isn't necessary for a novel to provide a linear plot to convey a sense of narrative or momentum. In this case, the plot is accretional -- we are given a series of windows into this child's intellect and emotions at a particular point in his/her development, and it's the experience of this consciousness at an early stage that proves so gripping. It's a novel of the inner life. The gimmicks are actually rather disappointing in this context -- if the psychology hadn't been so poignantly true, the bizarro elements would have given more pleasure.The child is six, so the gender "confusion" actually fits right in. At that age, a child is still discovering the differences between male and female, so it's understandable that sometimes the child might internally "wear" the other gender, if only to figure out the difference. It's really beside the point, since the character's gender identity has very little bearing on the events of this novel.I think this novel portrays a stage of innocence through which we all must struggle to transition -- that strange time that comes after the acquisition of language and self-consciousness, but before the "rules of the game" have been established. We normally learn these rules from the culture in which we are immersed, but conditions may arise that frustrate this process. It may be circumstances beyond our control or it may be something in our makeup that gets in the way, so that instead of following along with the progress of other children, we may become immersed in odd pastimes or compulsive mental spaces that seem strange to outsiders but perfectly rational on the subjective level.Just as one example (among many I could have chosen), this little girl (I'm picking one for consistency, and also because the character felt like a girl to me throughout) is constantly constructing a narrative of her life as she lives it, issuing "instructions" to some imaginary pupil for every mundane activity which she performs -- eating, walking, opening a door, looking out the window: in her mind, she will be saying, "Do it like this... never do it like that... once I did it like this... be careful to... some people prefer to... this way the results are not so..." She creates a world in her own head, in which she is the master of imaginary others, which gives her the sense of mastery she is lacking among real others. But of course, this construction is a limitation, a compulsion, a mental prison, not at all a means to freedom. It is almost painful to witness, since she is so unaware of the nature of her compensations, whereas the reader, as an adult, knows full well what she is missing and wonders how she will emerge from this childhood labyrinth. It's not inevitable that she will -- many people stay mired in their childish eccentricities, never finding the way out.There are many more examples like that one, but the gimmicks purposefully explode all of this. I'm not sure what the purpose is, if there is one. I got the sense that the author began with the introductory gimmick because it was fun, but then found himself exploring all this interesting stuff, then got bored or ran out of ideas and needed a way to finish things off, so he came up with another gimmick and that was that. Too bad, but forgivable to me -- chapters 3-9 were brilliant enough to justify the read!Here's a nice little excerpt, in which Cesar goes to school for the first time: "The first weeks were a stream of pure images. Human beings tend to make sense of experience by imbuing it with continuity: what is happening now can be explained by what happened before. So it's not surprising that I persisted in the perceptual habits I had recently acquired with Ana Modena and went on seeing gestures, mimicry, stories without sound, in which I had no part. No one had explained the purpose of school to me, and I wasn't about to work it out for myself. Initially, however, the problem didn't seem serious. I regarded it all, rather stubbornly, as a spectacle, an acrobatic show..."

Even as a child I loathed strawberry ice cream. One hot Texas afternoon I was taken to a party where the hosts were making old fashioned hand cranked ice cream for dessert. Being a strong and eager child I volunteered to turn the crank and hours later when the machine was opened, I discovered to my horror I had been making what was probably my most hated food: strawberry ice cream. In this book the author shares another, far more entertaining tale of a child and strawberry ice cream.It is the story of a first grader in Rosario Argentina that rapidly alternates between the inherent tragedy of youth and the absurdity of childhood through a series of insanely horrific, on both an emotional and physical level, incidents all to great comic effect."How I Became a Nun" is a brilliant book that I still remember vividly weeks after having finished it, emotionally dead on, plotted with something between childhood ineptitude and genius and all narrated by the most obnoxious and engagingly precocious child I have yet encountered in fiction.

I read this book as slowly as I could, because I didn't want it to end. The several stories that compose this impossible autobiography form a cohesive narrative, yet each one can be read on its own. In fact I read each chapter at least twice before moving on to the next. Now I'm sad to have finished it. Especially recommend the hospital dwarf and the boy with the cardboard nose.

This book is definitely not for everyone. The author definitely challenges the reader to see if you will keep up with what he is doing. I thought the book was great, from the title, the book cover, and the content. Aira destroyed any box that suggest a book has to be written a certain way.

This book is more of a short story. The whole story revolves around a little boy who refuses to eat his ice cream. His father is abusive and a murderous maniac. The rest of the book is equally disturbing. I have no idea how the title relates to anything in the book. It also has a horrible ending. It is well written, though.

Very unusual fiction.

Best book I've read by Aira. Hilarious, moving, well-written prose.

Como Me Hice Monja - Comment Je Suis Devenue Nonne - n’a pas encore été traduit en français (je ne l’ai pas trouvé en tous cas).Un père emmène sa petite fille de six ans découvrir le goût de la crème glacée chez le glacier de la ville. La glace et les glaciers étant peu répandus à l’époque, cela promet d’être un vrai moment de plaisir, de partage et de découverte entre le père et la fille. Mais la glace à la fraise va faire basculer la vie de tous de façon tragique.Voilà le tout début du récit et il m’a tout de suite captivée, mais j’ai été très vite un peu perdue, puis lassée par chaque épisode qui constituait ce très court roman d’environ 125 pages.J’en suis sortie avec un sentiment plus que mitigé d’écriture un peu brouillonne, non pas dans le style mais dans la construction. On a l’impression que l’auteur suit sa plume et qu’il ne sait pas trop où il va, l’identité du personnage change, la petite fille devient un petit garçon par moments qui prend même le nom de l’auteur, Cesar Aira. Aira se perd dans des dédales peu convaincants dont on ne perçoit pas le but. On croit assez peu aussi au personnage principal de la petite fille/garçon qui a des réactions finalement assez peu ‘enfantines’, un double de l’auteur ? une mise en abyme un peu psychanalytique ?Il me faudra tenter autre chose de l'auteur pour arriver à me faire une véritable opinion.