Pablo Neruda\'s Search for Identity the Theme

Pablo Neruda's Search For Identity

The theme of the insubstantial nature of identity in Pablo Neruda's poem "Too many names" calls to mind a popular song that is still listened to even by many members of my generation, that of "Imagine," by John Lennon. Neruda's words summon up a vision of a world in which conventional notions of identity, such as nationality and ethnicity, have no meaning. The vision of the religious, mystical writer Eckhart Tolle from A New Earth is also suggested in Neruda's haunting verses. Over the course of his short work, Neruda states that he believes that paradoxically human beings can only realize their true identities by celebrating their oneness with the universe. They must cease in their search for an individualistic sense of division between themselves and the natural world.

Neruda states that the constructions we call names are meaningless, using the metaphor of 'ashes to ashes, dust to dust' in a funeral service. "No one can claim the name of Pedro, /

nobody is Rosa or Maria, / all of us are dust or sand, / all of us are rain under rain." The poet's name on the poem may be 'Pedro' but names are really meaningless labels, rather than something intrinsically descriptive. Identity is fluid, and changes in relation to the person we are with, rather than is something innate to our sense of self. Ultimately, we all return to the earth in the form of dust.

Human beings falsely carve up the world into countries. "They have spoken to me of Venezuelas, / of Chiles and of Paraguays; / I have no idea what they are saying. / I know only the skin of the earth/and I know it is without a name." The earth, says Neruda, is metaphorically like a human being's skin: we create divisions upon it, but these divisions exist within our minds. Nationalities and borders are human constructions. This metaphor is particularly resonant because it is a subtle condemnation of racism as well as nationalism. People are judged based upon their appearance and national identity in a negative fashion. Ultimately, these judgments about human skins and real skins are unreal. The earth is personified as a person who is judged harshly based upon his or her skin tone, indicating how humans have hurt the earth as well as one another. Racism, war, and even environmental destruction are all linked in the metaphor. And fundamentally, we are all the same. The earth is a singular human being with the same skin. All nations are a part of its skin. All human beings, regardless of skin tone, have the same skin and are part of the earth, and return to the earth as dust.

What lies beneath the surface of the human character is more important than what is on the surface. What is above is transient, like a flower, versus the deeper roots of the earth. "When I lived amongst the roots/they pleased me more than flowers did, / and when I spoke to a stone it rang like a bell." The onomatopoeia of the ringing bell of the stone is startling to the reader, as well as the greater beauty of the roots vs. The flowers, but the source of all life is ultimately more important than the pleasures of the moment, and what seems to speak is again more due to what we hear, and what we listen to, than the intrinsic properties of the entity. The imagery suggested in the stone, just like a quiet person, can seem powerful if it is regarded in the right way.

Our 'naming' is due to the fact that we are locked in social constructs. "When I sleep every night, / what am I called or not called? / And when I wake, who am I / if I was not while I slept?" Naming is about ego and division, the sort of artificial barriers discussed in Tolle which the mystic says keep us from living in the present moment. What is important to Neruda is his immediate state -- of sleep or wakefulness, not what is name is, not his nationality, his skin tone, or any other social properties connected to his character. The metaphor of 'sleep' and 'wakefulness' has a clear religious resonance in this stanza of the poem. The idea of being awakened is what is important, versus asleep to the goodness of the world is. It is not important that it is 'Pablo' who is said to be sleeping.

Social constructs only confuse us. Neruda creates a powerful, bullet-pointed list, using repetition and parallelism so the catalogue will remain indelibly in the mind of the listener: "let us not fill our mouths/with so many faltering names, / with so many sad formalities, / with so many pompous letters,/with so much of yours and mine, with so much of signing of papers." While most readers (including myself) might nod and laugh and the meaningless nature of bureaucracy, Neruda links irritating red tape and the meaningless legalese that almost everyone despises with the act of being named itself. Being born and being named as a singular, enclosed ego is just as absurd as denoting that a piece of property belongs to someone, or having to read a letter from an arrogant politician.