A parallel to the movie Inside Out can evoke themes embedded in Javier Zamora’s novel, Solito. Much like how the film delves into the complexity of emotions through the lens of a child, Zamora recounts his arduous journey from El Salvador to the United States from the perspective of his nine-year-old self, fundamentally shaping how autobiographical subjects and acts are constructed. This focalization collapses the distinction between the narrated “I” and the narrated “I,” creating a narrative that journies readers in the emotional naivety and authenticity of a child’s experience. Zamora reconstructs his migration journey through all physical and emotional senses but also reframes the autobiographical self in a way that evokes vulnerability, perception, and memory. Two important concepts from Reading Autobiography Now that help show this effect are experienced as discursive and structuring modes of self-inquiry.
Smith and Watson describe the experience as discursive while noting that “There are human experiences outside discursive frames—effects, bodily conditions, alignments, feelings of spirituality, powerful sensory memories of events and images” (Smith and Watson, 60). This idea is central to Zamora’s memoir, as his naive perspective allows readers to engage with the journey through an embodied experience that often surpasses linguistic expression. His narration is not filtered through retrospective analysis but rather through immediate sensations and emotions. For instance, when describing his fear and desperation at a pivotal moment in his journey, Zamora writes, “I open my eyes. The adults are still praying. I close my eyes and pray we cross La Línea as fast as possible, that we jump the fence and run so fast, no one can catch us, especially the bad gringos. I pray my parents are waiting for me right after I jump” (Zamora, 129). This moment captures a child’s raw urgency and unfiltered belief, where religious faith intertwines with survival instincts. His fears and hopes are deeply felt yet remain inexpressible in abstract terms, aligning with Smith and Watson’s argument that certain experiences exist beyond traditional discursive frames. The simplicity of the language—short sentences, direct thoughts—reflects a child’s unmediated reality, demonstrating how memory and emotion function within autobiographical narration.
Zamora’s journey aligns with Smith and Watson’s concept of structuring modes of self-inquiry, particularly the quest or adventure narrative. They define this mode as a structure where “a potentially heroic figure alienated from family or home or birthright sets forth on a mission to achieve elsewhere an integration of self that is impossible within the constraints (political, sexual, emotional, economic) imposed in a repressive world” (Smith and Watson, 134). Zamora’s journey epitomizes this quest, as his migration is beyond just a physical displacement; it’s a search for belonging and reunification. His parents’ absence looms large, and their love is an imagined yet distant presence throughout his journey. This structuring mode is especially evident in the vivid moment when he finally reunites with his parents, as he recalls: “[My parents] couldn’t drive to look for me near the border because they feared Border Patrol would stop and deport them… ‘they both cried as they remembered what I smelled like when they first saw me—piss, shit, sweat, a nasty stench’ they’ve never forgotten” (Zamora, 278). The sensory detail here—his smell, the tears, the fear—marks both the completion of his physical journey and the lingering trauma of displacement. His trial is one of survival and one of identity formation, as he seeks an integration of self that remains etched with loss and transformation.
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