This is the first comic-book I've ever read and I love it.
I have found it very difficult to put Maus I down, and I look forward to starting the second. The Spiegleman family's tale of survival is quite captivating, especially since I know that each word of it is true. The drawings and the text are very detailed, down the Vladek's Eastern European-American dialect to the finest black stipled background.
One thing I especially like about this book are the different levels of story lines it contains. I feel as though this book's narrations are very personal, raw, and put each character in a vulnerable position. I am thankful that Art Spiegleman has portrayed each character honestly, even if that meant that his father would come across as a caricature. Primarily, there is the story of Vladek Spiegleman, a Polish Jew trying to escape the Nazi Reich. His story is told in first person through his son, Art, whose personal story also comes through. We also learn about Mala, Vladek's second wife who resents Vladek and the way he treats her. I am a bit disappointed, however, because it seems as though the only story that is missing is that of Vladek's first wife, Anja. While Anja is described in great detail and is constant throughout the book, I wish I could hear more from her perspective. It is mentioned several times in the book that Anja kept extensive journals during the war that were destroyed or lost and so she wrote new journals recounting her struggle during the war when she arrived in America. I wonder if these journals were ever found, and if Art Speigleman ever had the chance to read them. I'm interested to hear Anja's view; it may help readers, and her son, understand her suicide.
Also, I'm glad that the two last books of the semester are books that I enjoy immensely.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
In Response to Brown's Slaughterhouse Five Analysis [EXTRA]
Here is what I find most interesting about this essay.
First off, since first being hit by Vonnegut’s Tralfamadore curveball, I, like Billy’s patronizing daughter Barbara, have been struggling to make sense of it all. My first impression was that Billy was suffereing from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD); a double-effect of he surviving the plane crash after everyone else, including his wife, perished and also his wartime experience in Dresden years before. I was surprised at how willing to believe Billy and his extraterrestrial experience my classmates seemed to be. Briefly, it seemed important to me to find out whether or not Billy’s Tralfamadore experience ‘really happened’ or not. This quest was soon replaced by the somewhat apathetic thought that it really does not matter at all whether or not Billy Pilgrim was captured by aliens, all that is important is the way in which it affects him. Kevin Brown seems to agree somewhat with my philosophy, and explains the phenomena in the following way.
Billy does not become vocal about his Tralfamadore experience until after the war. It is also after the war that Billy admits himself to a psychiatric ward. Here, he meets the colorful Eliiot Rosewater. The two seem divinely appointed to have hospital beds next to each other due to the fact that they each share similar life views. Specifically, nihilistic views. It is Rosewater that introduces science fiction to Billy. I read through Billy and Rosewater’s encounter without thinking too much about the significance of the scenes. Things began to become more clear, however, after reading Brown’s critical essay. After returning from the warfront, Billy seems to have trouble making grasping the things that he witnessed and experienced. He sporadically weeps, an act which I have found to be the most heart-wrenching in all of the novel thus far. He has trouble sleeping at night but falls asleep during the day while he is at work. An endless drone of “why me? Why me why me?” seems to circulate through his head. Rosewater introduces Billy to the idea that “new lies” must now be created, because otherwise, the hardened wartime generation will no longer desire to go on living. According to Brown, Billy then “tries to develop new lies to live his life; but in his attempt, he creates the Tralfamadorians and their philosophy. (51)” Suddenly I begin to make correlations between the science fiction plots that Billy has read and his own story of his experience with the Tralfamadorians. Billy’s stories and the science fiction stories he reads all seem to blur together. Billy has created the Tralfamadorians as a coping mechanism to deal with his PTSD. Brown also points out that the mindset and philosophy of the Tralfamadorians often mimes that of the Germans. Neither party seem too put-off by death, no matter how gruesome. Billy creates a mindset in the tralfamadorians that is a bit more romantic than that of the way the Germans are gruesomely portrayed. This too seems symbolic, as if Billy is somehow trying to grant parodnto the Germans, as well as to his own country and Great Britain, who were responsible for bombing Dresden. Under the mindset of the Tralfamadorians, the city was always meant to be destroyed, and it always will be destroyed. Billy was always meant to live. That is just the way things are; so it goes. Billy has adopted the mindset of his ”made-up,” otherworldly captors, and has thus developed a “peace that comes through understanding.” It all seems very complex and intricate, and yet somehow, it works for Billy.
It seems to me that Billy travels in time to his stay in Tralfamadore in a flashback-type manner while he is at war. It could be that I am confusing his flashbacks to his old life in The States to his time in outer-space. If I am not confusing these times however, I am still left with one question, a question which I am not sure I know how to answer just yet.
If Billy created the story of the Tralfamadorians, a story which he obviously believes to be true and thus IS true for him, AFTER the war when he was in the psych ward, then why is it that he has “flashbacks” to his times in Tralfamadore DURING the war?
So much confusion.
First off, since first being hit by Vonnegut’s Tralfamadore curveball, I, like Billy’s patronizing daughter Barbara, have been struggling to make sense of it all. My first impression was that Billy was suffereing from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD); a double-effect of he surviving the plane crash after everyone else, including his wife, perished and also his wartime experience in Dresden years before. I was surprised at how willing to believe Billy and his extraterrestrial experience my classmates seemed to be. Briefly, it seemed important to me to find out whether or not Billy’s Tralfamadore experience ‘really happened’ or not. This quest was soon replaced by the somewhat apathetic thought that it really does not matter at all whether or not Billy Pilgrim was captured by aliens, all that is important is the way in which it affects him. Kevin Brown seems to agree somewhat with my philosophy, and explains the phenomena in the following way.
Billy does not become vocal about his Tralfamadore experience until after the war. It is also after the war that Billy admits himself to a psychiatric ward. Here, he meets the colorful Eliiot Rosewater. The two seem divinely appointed to have hospital beds next to each other due to the fact that they each share similar life views. Specifically, nihilistic views. It is Rosewater that introduces science fiction to Billy. I read through Billy and Rosewater’s encounter without thinking too much about the significance of the scenes. Things began to become more clear, however, after reading Brown’s critical essay. After returning from the warfront, Billy seems to have trouble making grasping the things that he witnessed and experienced. He sporadically weeps, an act which I have found to be the most heart-wrenching in all of the novel thus far. He has trouble sleeping at night but falls asleep during the day while he is at work. An endless drone of “why me? Why me why me?” seems to circulate through his head. Rosewater introduces Billy to the idea that “new lies” must now be created, because otherwise, the hardened wartime generation will no longer desire to go on living. According to Brown, Billy then “tries to develop new lies to live his life; but in his attempt, he creates the Tralfamadorians and their philosophy. (51)” Suddenly I begin to make correlations between the science fiction plots that Billy has read and his own story of his experience with the Tralfamadorians. Billy’s stories and the science fiction stories he reads all seem to blur together. Billy has created the Tralfamadorians as a coping mechanism to deal with his PTSD. Brown also points out that the mindset and philosophy of the Tralfamadorians often mimes that of the Germans. Neither party seem too put-off by death, no matter how gruesome. Billy creates a mindset in the tralfamadorians that is a bit more romantic than that of the way the Germans are gruesomely portrayed. This too seems symbolic, as if Billy is somehow trying to grant parodnto the Germans, as well as to his own country and Great Britain, who were responsible for bombing Dresden. Under the mindset of the Tralfamadorians, the city was always meant to be destroyed, and it always will be destroyed. Billy was always meant to live. That is just the way things are; so it goes. Billy has adopted the mindset of his ”made-up,” otherworldly captors, and has thus developed a “peace that comes through understanding.” It all seems very complex and intricate, and yet somehow, it works for Billy.
It seems to me that Billy travels in time to his stay in Tralfamadore in a flashback-type manner while he is at war. It could be that I am confusing his flashbacks to his old life in The States to his time in outer-space. If I am not confusing these times however, I am still left with one question, a question which I am not sure I know how to answer just yet.
If Billy created the story of the Tralfamadorians, a story which he obviously believes to be true and thus IS true for him, AFTER the war when he was in the psych ward, then why is it that he has “flashbacks” to his times in Tralfamadore DURING the war?
So much confusion.
Slaughterhouse5
So far I find myself really enjoying this novel, and somewhat surprised that I do. As a general rule of thumb I do not enjoy science fiction. I do not enjoy war novels. Slaughterhouse Five is a melange of these two styles, and yet I like it quite a lot. Perhaps the reason I am enjoying this scientific war novel is because it is unlike any novel of war or science fiction that I have read before.
For one, the author does not focus on one style or another. It is not completely a story of science fiction, nor is it completely a story of war. As far as war-novel protagonists go, Billy Pilgrim is also unique. He is not the typical hero. Billy Pilgrim is weak, loony, and bizarre. Even his name reflects immaturity and weakness. So far in my reading up to chapter seven, Billy has done nothing particularly exciting or extraordinary. Billy just seems to float through his POW status, escaping reality periodically to visit past memories.
You know when you are watching horror movies and you say to yourself, “that loser/idiot is going to be the first to die.” This theory of mine is played out several times in the novel. For example, the stubborn hobo starves to death. Annoying, loud, and pompous Weary dies off as well. The characters of intelligent mind and strong body are always the ones to live. People like Edgar Derby. Derby, however, ends up being shot at by a firing squad in Dresden. Why is it that Billy gets to live? Why him? “Why anybody?...So it goes.”
It is here that Vonnegut proves me wrong, showing that in war, there are no rules. The heroes die, the losers (bless them) die as well. No one is spared, no one is pardoned. No one, that is, except our goofy Billy Pilgrim.
***
Other things I like about this novel is Vonnegut’s writing style. I enjoy the way he is able to create such vivid, developed characters in a short amount of time. I find myself able to clearly picture each of the characters, no matter how small. Though bizarre at times, they are characters that are believable, and people that I can identify with and relate to my own everyday encounters. It seems that Billy is the hardest character to understand. I haven’t quite been able to “figure him out” just yet. I doubt I will by the end of the novel. I would be alright with that though, because his complexities and bizarre idiosyncrasies enhance his merit as a character, rather than make him a weak character that is annoying to readers.
I also enjoy Vonnegut’s dry humor and satire (funny how those traits so often go hand in hand..) and his sensitiveness to the war that can go undetected at time. There is a quote on the back of my book by “Life” contributor Wilfrid Sheed that reads, “Splendid art…a funny book at which you are not permitted to laugh; a sad book without tears.” I think that this captures the affect and tone of the book quite well. There are very humorous aspects to the book, but I think that most would have trouble actually laughing at them due to the rawness and truth in the scenes. Nearly everything is dark; nearly everything is shadowed by brutal pessimism. It’s hard for readers to laugh at the more humorous scenes (even though there are many of them) because we are constantly being reminded that this is the very true, very real life of a prisoner of war, and that topic just isn’t funny. Billy can appear so pathetic in his confusions between Tralfamadore and Earth that not even this seems laugh out loud funny. Similarly, even though so many aspects of the novel are heart wrenching and depressing, there is no true grief. The Tralfamadorians and Billy do not believe in grief. They take up the mantra of Whitman, saying “all goes outward and onward… and to die is different than anyone supposed, and luckier.” So it goes so it goes so it goes. Readers are not permitted to grieve and the novel is void of tears due to this everlasting acceptance of reality.
This combination is a unique one, but hey, uniqueness does seem, after all, to be the goal of modernist authors.
For one, the author does not focus on one style or another. It is not completely a story of science fiction, nor is it completely a story of war. As far as war-novel protagonists go, Billy Pilgrim is also unique. He is not the typical hero. Billy Pilgrim is weak, loony, and bizarre. Even his name reflects immaturity and weakness. So far in my reading up to chapter seven, Billy has done nothing particularly exciting or extraordinary. Billy just seems to float through his POW status, escaping reality periodically to visit past memories.
You know when you are watching horror movies and you say to yourself, “that loser/idiot is going to be the first to die.” This theory of mine is played out several times in the novel. For example, the stubborn hobo starves to death. Annoying, loud, and pompous Weary dies off as well. The characters of intelligent mind and strong body are always the ones to live. People like Edgar Derby. Derby, however, ends up being shot at by a firing squad in Dresden. Why is it that Billy gets to live? Why him? “Why anybody?...So it goes.”
It is here that Vonnegut proves me wrong, showing that in war, there are no rules. The heroes die, the losers (bless them) die as well. No one is spared, no one is pardoned. No one, that is, except our goofy Billy Pilgrim.
***
Other things I like about this novel is Vonnegut’s writing style. I enjoy the way he is able to create such vivid, developed characters in a short amount of time. I find myself able to clearly picture each of the characters, no matter how small. Though bizarre at times, they are characters that are believable, and people that I can identify with and relate to my own everyday encounters. It seems that Billy is the hardest character to understand. I haven’t quite been able to “figure him out” just yet. I doubt I will by the end of the novel. I would be alright with that though, because his complexities and bizarre idiosyncrasies enhance his merit as a character, rather than make him a weak character that is annoying to readers.
I also enjoy Vonnegut’s dry humor and satire (funny how those traits so often go hand in hand..) and his sensitiveness to the war that can go undetected at time. There is a quote on the back of my book by “Life” contributor Wilfrid Sheed that reads, “Splendid art…a funny book at which you are not permitted to laugh; a sad book without tears.” I think that this captures the affect and tone of the book quite well. There are very humorous aspects to the book, but I think that most would have trouble actually laughing at them due to the rawness and truth in the scenes. Nearly everything is dark; nearly everything is shadowed by brutal pessimism. It’s hard for readers to laugh at the more humorous scenes (even though there are many of them) because we are constantly being reminded that this is the very true, very real life of a prisoner of war, and that topic just isn’t funny. Billy can appear so pathetic in his confusions between Tralfamadore and Earth that not even this seems laugh out loud funny. Similarly, even though so many aspects of the novel are heart wrenching and depressing, there is no true grief. The Tralfamadorians and Billy do not believe in grief. They take up the mantra of Whitman, saying “all goes outward and onward… and to die is different than anyone supposed, and luckier.” So it goes so it goes so it goes. Readers are not permitted to grieve and the novel is void of tears due to this everlasting acceptance of reality.
This combination is a unique one, but hey, uniqueness does seem, after all, to be the goal of modernist authors.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
"Waiting for Elmo"
Top Ten Things Which Come To Mind While « Waiting »
1. Before reading it, when I only knew the title, I thought it was a war novel by Tim O’Brian. The title sorta gives that feel don’t you think? No? No one agrees? Sorta like other war book/film titles like “Saving Private Ryan” and “Going after Cacciato”
2. Not this crap again.
3. Honestly, who cares?
4. The characters are somewhat amusing in the way they interact with each other. Amusing in a Fred & George bickering /Mad Hatter talking in circles in Alice In Wonderland sort of way.
5. I wonder if Lucky has rabies. Or fleas.
6. Why is he named Lucky?
7. I could not sit through an hour and a half of this performed live.
8. There is a reason why this play is not on Broadway.
9. Was translating it from French to English really necessary?
10. Godot is most likely a total jerk. And also a loser.
Tonight I spent entirely too much time on YouTube.
I can't read Waiting For Godot without falling asleep. I tried and tried but I just kept dozing off. The saddest part is that even when I was able to concentrate on the text, it was so bizarre I wasn't entirely sure that I wasn't dreaming. I finally got through Act One and then decided to do some further research on the play. Sparknotes was absolutely no help, and so, on a whim, I tried YouTube. Jackpot. Well...sorta.
Anyone reading this is most likely part of the Millennial Generation, which means you can appreciate my fascination with both YouTube and Sesame Street. Tonight I was about to find a summary of Waiting For Godot in a segment of Sesame Street's Monsterpiece Theatre called "Waiting for Elmo." How cute. Before the clip started, Cookie Monster summed the play up nicely by saying " it is a play so modern and brilliant, it makes absolutely no sense to anybody." The big ball of dessert-eating blue fur has an excellent point, and I think that this analysis not only sums up this play by Beckett, but just about every other piece we've read this fall. Raise your hand if you have said some form of "What the hell?" when reading at least six of our seven authors this semester. Seriously, nothing makes sense! It's like modernist authors are somehow merited on how completely confusing and ridiculous they can make a piece. We have men turning into bugs, men being killed by gorillas, men pounding out nonsense that is supposed to be symbolic of just about everything ever written in the history of time, a rabid dog riding a cow through a hurricane, and; my personal favorite, the story of The Hillbilly Family and the Rotten Mother. Every story has a twist of the absurd, a splattering of unusual occurrences which unceasingly, annoyingly, point towards some form of symbolism and the human experience.
Waiting For Godot is no different. I'm not meaning to bash modernist authors; for the most part, I like them. But I feel like the pattern in our reading curriculum is causing my reaction blogs to blur together in a general hue of awkward phrases like "umm. that was...interesting." I can recognize the underlying message-- Vladimir and Estragon are two down-on-their-luck-men who are trying to find meaning and purpose to their life, waiting for that sudden change which can somehow help them to sort out their lives. This theme is typical to the era. Besides the theme, there are other things which keep the play from being a complete dud. I was hoping that maybe watching the play would be easier but no, I was wrong. I tried watching a film clip on YouTube and I lasted a total of 30 seconds.
1. Before reading it, when I only knew the title, I thought it was a war novel by Tim O’Brian. The title sorta gives that feel don’t you think? No? No one agrees? Sorta like other war book/film titles like “Saving Private Ryan” and “Going after Cacciato”
2. Not this crap again.
3. Honestly, who cares?
4. The characters are somewhat amusing in the way they interact with each other. Amusing in a Fred & George bickering /Mad Hatter talking in circles in Alice In Wonderland sort of way.
5. I wonder if Lucky has rabies. Or fleas.
6. Why is he named Lucky?
7. I could not sit through an hour and a half of this performed live.
8. There is a reason why this play is not on Broadway.
9. Was translating it from French to English really necessary?
10. Godot is most likely a total jerk. And also a loser.
Tonight I spent entirely too much time on YouTube.
I can't read Waiting For Godot without falling asleep. I tried and tried but I just kept dozing off. The saddest part is that even when I was able to concentrate on the text, it was so bizarre I wasn't entirely sure that I wasn't dreaming. I finally got through Act One and then decided to do some further research on the play. Sparknotes was absolutely no help, and so, on a whim, I tried YouTube. Jackpot. Well...sorta.
Anyone reading this is most likely part of the Millennial Generation, which means you can appreciate my fascination with both YouTube and Sesame Street. Tonight I was about to find a summary of Waiting For Godot in a segment of Sesame Street's Monsterpiece Theatre called "Waiting for Elmo." How cute. Before the clip started, Cookie Monster summed the play up nicely by saying " it is a play so modern and brilliant, it makes absolutely no sense to anybody." The big ball of dessert-eating blue fur has an excellent point, and I think that this analysis not only sums up this play by Beckett, but just about every other piece we've read this fall. Raise your hand if you have said some form of "What the hell?" when reading at least six of our seven authors this semester. Seriously, nothing makes sense! It's like modernist authors are somehow merited on how completely confusing and ridiculous they can make a piece. We have men turning into bugs, men being killed by gorillas, men pounding out nonsense that is supposed to be symbolic of just about everything ever written in the history of time, a rabid dog riding a cow through a hurricane, and; my personal favorite, the story of The Hillbilly Family and the Rotten Mother. Every story has a twist of the absurd, a splattering of unusual occurrences which unceasingly, annoyingly, point towards some form of symbolism and the human experience.
Waiting For Godot is no different. I'm not meaning to bash modernist authors; for the most part, I like them. But I feel like the pattern in our reading curriculum is causing my reaction blogs to blur together in a general hue of awkward phrases like "umm. that was...interesting." I can recognize the underlying message-- Vladimir and Estragon are two down-on-their-luck-men who are trying to find meaning and purpose to their life, waiting for that sudden change which can somehow help them to sort out their lives. This theme is typical to the era. Besides the theme, there are other things which keep the play from being a complete dud. I was hoping that maybe watching the play would be easier but no, I was wrong. I tried watching a film clip on YouTube and I lasted a total of 30 seconds.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
The word unfortunate was used three times in this blog...
Before reading Their Eyes Were Watching God, the only experience I had had with Zora Neale Hurston was in short essays, which I had enjoyed. I also enjoyed this novel, and I'm glad it was part of the curriculum. A couple years ago I saw the movie with friends, and found it idealistic and aesthetically pleasing, but not much else. Oprah calls this one of the best modern love stories, however, I am not convinced. As a story about love as an object, yes it is quite good; and captures well the dreams and idealistic views of the concept. As a story about love as a verb however, or character even, I did not find this novel an impressive "love story."
I was also unimpressed by Tea Cake as a man. Throughout the novel, Janie is ruled by men despite her independent, free spirit. While this is realistic of the time, it is still unfortunate that the talents of this vivacious protagonist are stifled by a string of second-rate men, specif ally, powerful men. Killicks is a powerful man because he owns land and in a sense, owns Janie. Jody also is wealthy, charismatic, and a leader in Eatonville. Even though Tea Cake is poor and owns nearly nothing to his name, he is also charismatic, and holds power over Janie for the simple fact that she loves him. Hurston is showing the weakness of women at the time, and in many ways, today as well. Women were over-ruled by men with money, with leadership in the eyes of others, and by men who abused the love of women. The novel builds up this hope for Janie, a hope that she will one day posses happiness, independence, and most importantly, the happiness and independence found through 'true' love. Unfortunately, this never really happens for Janie. Even Tea Cake, the knight who whisks her away from her old life with promises of love and adventure lets Janie down. He steals her money but all is forgiven when he wins it back in a game of chance. Later, he flirts with one of the muck workers, and refuses to be responsible and respectful of Janie and put a stop to Nunkie's advances. Finally, in chapter 17, he goes so far as to beat Janie. Blinded by love, she stays with him, stays silent, and the situation seems to be ignored completely. Is this the sort of love Janie has been waiting for her entire life? Janie is determined to continue loving Tea Cake, and while some may find her new forgiving attitude endearing and romantic, I find it rather tragic, and, when reading chapter 17, I shook my head in disappointment.
I still enjoy Janie as a character however, and in many ways, respect her a fellow woman. I was impressed with her decision to face the reality of Tea Cake's condition at the end of the novel, and in an act of love for him and need to protect herself, she shot him. I think that this act showed her final act of achievement over men. For once Janie had complete control over the situation. This is hinted at earlier in the novel when she become a better shot than Tea Cake. Guns were manly objects, and shooting was a sport reserved solely for men. Janie however, excels at it, and I find myself proud of her for holding some ground in a man's world.
Would this novel have had a stronger message if Janie's life had played out the way she and readers wanted it to? I don't think so. I think it took tragedy rather than a stereotypical love story to show her true strength. I still think it is unfortunate, however, that she did not achieve power over a man until he was rendered completely incoherent and unable to function do to rabies...
I was also unimpressed by Tea Cake as a man. Throughout the novel, Janie is ruled by men despite her independent, free spirit. While this is realistic of the time, it is still unfortunate that the talents of this vivacious protagonist are stifled by a string of second-rate men, specif ally, powerful men. Killicks is a powerful man because he owns land and in a sense, owns Janie. Jody also is wealthy, charismatic, and a leader in Eatonville. Even though Tea Cake is poor and owns nearly nothing to his name, he is also charismatic, and holds power over Janie for the simple fact that she loves him. Hurston is showing the weakness of women at the time, and in many ways, today as well. Women were over-ruled by men with money, with leadership in the eyes of others, and by men who abused the love of women. The novel builds up this hope for Janie, a hope that she will one day posses happiness, independence, and most importantly, the happiness and independence found through 'true' love. Unfortunately, this never really happens for Janie. Even Tea Cake, the knight who whisks her away from her old life with promises of love and adventure lets Janie down. He steals her money but all is forgiven when he wins it back in a game of chance. Later, he flirts with one of the muck workers, and refuses to be responsible and respectful of Janie and put a stop to Nunkie's advances. Finally, in chapter 17, he goes so far as to beat Janie. Blinded by love, she stays with him, stays silent, and the situation seems to be ignored completely. Is this the sort of love Janie has been waiting for her entire life? Janie is determined to continue loving Tea Cake, and while some may find her new forgiving attitude endearing and romantic, I find it rather tragic, and, when reading chapter 17, I shook my head in disappointment.
I still enjoy Janie as a character however, and in many ways, respect her a fellow woman. I was impressed with her decision to face the reality of Tea Cake's condition at the end of the novel, and in an act of love for him and need to protect herself, she shot him. I think that this act showed her final act of achievement over men. For once Janie had complete control over the situation. This is hinted at earlier in the novel when she become a better shot than Tea Cake. Guns were manly objects, and shooting was a sport reserved solely for men. Janie however, excels at it, and I find myself proud of her for holding some ground in a man's world.
Would this novel have had a stronger message if Janie's life had played out the way she and readers wanted it to? I don't think so. I think it took tragedy rather than a stereotypical love story to show her true strength. I still think it is unfortunate, however, that she did not achieve power over a man until he was rendered completely incoherent and unable to function do to rabies...
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
As I Lay Dying: Initial Response
For me, my appreciation of modernist works increses with each piece read. I like each piece more and more (well, sorta. I think I liked The Wastland more than Mrs. D. but whatever). I like As I Lay Dying, which is interesting because I don't think that it is something that I would normally have read. Also, I have a confession to make...I think Oprah has good taste...this is, afterall, An O Book Club novel...
I have always really liked books that focus on several different narrations, so that you are able to learn what each of the different characters are thinking. Even though William Faukner is classified as a different form than Virginia Woolf, there are several similarities in their writing. Both contain narration from several different characters, and both contain stream of conciousness that can be hard to follow at times. Readesr are allowed a view into the mind of th characters, but it still is impossible to understand completely these complex characters that Faulkner has created, and so at times I stopped myself while reading and said, "What?" Ok actually I found myself stopping, puzzled, quite a lot. There are a lot of bizarre things going on, and for me, it can be hard to catch-up to speed with all that is happening. Another thing about this novel that is hard for me to follow is the subject-verb agreement. At certain times, so many different characters are piping in their own thoughts, that it is hard to remember who the main narrator is, and who is saying what about what. Cetain sentences get me all befuddled and even a bit annoyed, like this section from Darl on page 40 "She wouldn't say what we both knew. 'The reason you will not say it is, when you say it, even to yourself, you will know it is true: is that it? But you know it is true now. I can almost tell you the day when you knew it is true. Why won't you say it, even to yourself?" I've never been a fan of grammar, and anayzing sentences. It all just gets too analytical and math-y for me. I love words, and I want words to just be, not classified. But I'm wishing I had paid attention more to all of my English classes, because I don't know how to classify all of the 'its' in this section. I think that 'it' is used here as a noun, and also a subject, and a direct object, and an indirect object..AHH! I really have no idea. But I know it's confusing to me. And, similar to Mrs. Dalloway, I find myself once again comparing this writing to Hemingway's. I can't help it, I just like his writing, and seeing as how he was a modernist author too, I guess it makes sense that I would find correlations. When reading Hemingway, it can be hard to distinguish which subject he is referring to with his use of nouns and propositions. Similarily, when Faulkner's characters ramble on about this or that, their thoughts quickly shifting through their stream of conciousness, it can be hard to follow them as a reader.
So far I really like this story, and it has been the easiest for me to read out of any of the other pieces we have looked at. I flew through the short sections, completing the assigned reading in two brief sittings. Each character is very developed by Faulkner, and I am interested to see what happens to this broken, lonely family. The family is very much messed up, and each of them are handling their bizarre life in their own way. Right now, the two characters I am most interested in are Dewey Dell, who I suspect was raped by this Lafe fellow and is now pregnant and wants an abortion from Dr. Peabody; Darl is the only one who knows this, due to some odd connection they have. I could be throwing darts in the dark though, that's just an initial guess. Vardaman I also love, and I want to adopt and feed. I am fascinated by each of the characters, but these two in particular I am interested in right now.
I have always really liked books that focus on several different narrations, so that you are able to learn what each of the different characters are thinking. Even though William Faukner is classified as a different form than Virginia Woolf, there are several similarities in their writing. Both contain narration from several different characters, and both contain stream of conciousness that can be hard to follow at times. Readesr are allowed a view into the mind of th characters, but it still is impossible to understand completely these complex characters that Faulkner has created, and so at times I stopped myself while reading and said, "What?" Ok actually I found myself stopping, puzzled, quite a lot. There are a lot of bizarre things going on, and for me, it can be hard to catch-up to speed with all that is happening. Another thing about this novel that is hard for me to follow is the subject-verb agreement. At certain times, so many different characters are piping in their own thoughts, that it is hard to remember who the main narrator is, and who is saying what about what. Cetain sentences get me all befuddled and even a bit annoyed, like this section from Darl on page 40 "She wouldn't say what we both knew. 'The reason you will not say it is, when you say it, even to yourself, you will know it is true: is that it? But you know it is true now. I can almost tell you the day when you knew it is true. Why won't you say it, even to yourself?" I've never been a fan of grammar, and anayzing sentences. It all just gets too analytical and math-y for me. I love words, and I want words to just be, not classified. But I'm wishing I had paid attention more to all of my English classes, because I don't know how to classify all of the 'its' in this section. I think that 'it' is used here as a noun, and also a subject, and a direct object, and an indirect object..AHH! I really have no idea. But I know it's confusing to me. And, similar to Mrs. Dalloway, I find myself once again comparing this writing to Hemingway's. I can't help it, I just like his writing, and seeing as how he was a modernist author too, I guess it makes sense that I would find correlations. When reading Hemingway, it can be hard to distinguish which subject he is referring to with his use of nouns and propositions. Similarily, when Faulkner's characters ramble on about this or that, their thoughts quickly shifting through their stream of conciousness, it can be hard to follow them as a reader.
So far I really like this story, and it has been the easiest for me to read out of any of the other pieces we have looked at. I flew through the short sections, completing the assigned reading in two brief sittings. Each character is very developed by Faulkner, and I am interested to see what happens to this broken, lonely family. The family is very much messed up, and each of them are handling their bizarre life in their own way. Right now, the two characters I am most interested in are Dewey Dell, who I suspect was raped by this Lafe fellow and is now pregnant and wants an abortion from Dr. Peabody; Darl is the only one who knows this, due to some odd connection they have. I could be throwing darts in the dark though, that's just an initial guess. Vardaman I also love, and I want to adopt and feed. I am fascinated by each of the characters, but these two in particular I am interested in right now.
Monday, September 22, 2008
EXTRA-- Nancy Drew, Lookin For Clues
As the novel Mrs. Dalloway continues, I am curious to see how the use of symbols in Woolf's writing progresses (term paper topic, anyone?). I see reoccurring nouns popping up with possible significance here and there such as Elizabeth, Clarissa's narrow bed, and external objects drawing character's attention away from current events. Primarily, I am interested in Peter's knife as a symbol, and I am almost certain that it signalizes something important. He whips it out when he is thinking about or talking to women (readers note I have only read to page 83 so far), and also when he is nervous or getting worked up about something. I read somewhere online that the pocket-knife is a sexual symbol that signifies his dominance over women. I am wary of this theory. While it's true that Woolf was a more feminist writer, and her perspectives on men can no doubt be one of dominance and chauvinism, I am not yet entirely convinced that this was her intent with Peter's pocket knife. Often, actors will develop a "character tick," something that makes their character more distinguishable and recognizable. A tug on one braid when thinking, stamping feet when frustrated, or twirling their fingers when standing idle. I think that in part, the knife serves as a character tick for Peter; it is an object unique to him. Also, perhaps he wields the knife because he subconsciously feels the need for protection. He is intimidated by Clarissa, both out of love and due to her mysterious ability to hold power over people. On page 59 he remarks on her ability to "frighten people." He notes that "every one wobbled; every one seemed to bow, as she spoke, and then to stand up different." Somehow, our dear Mrs. Dalloway (or was it only Ms. Clarissa...?) seems to have an alluring, aloof, powerful quality about her. Peter is obviously taken aback by this, and captivated by her. For independent, adventurous Peter, who enjoys giving the impression of falling in love at his own accord, this will just not do. And so perhaps he uses the knife for safety against her, that is after all, what knives are for.During his first interaction with Clarissa, Peter keeps the knife close to his body, and plays with it idly, without thinking. It is during this first interaction that he is again stunned by her, and realizes that the young girl from India he claims to be in love with "would look ordinary next to Clarissa (43)." His knife cannot protect him from realizing he is still, after all these years, in love with Clarissa, nor can it protect him from his emotional breakdown. From this point on in the novel --or at least from here to page 83-- he seems to use the knife in more violent motions.
For instance, on page 80 he actually goes so far as to hold the knife out from his body, as if he is brandishing it at a foe. "It was jealousy that was at the bottom of it- jealousy which survives every other passion of mankind, Peter Walsh thought, holding his pocket knife at arm's length." Peter then goes on to muse over a letter from his lover Daisy in which she mentioned a Major Orde in a girlish attempt to make him jealous. "He was furious!" What bothers him most is seeing Clarissa so calm and collected, and independent of him. He shuts his pocket knife then, thinking that women "don't know what passion is." Could it be true that Peter's knife symbolizes his desire to be above women, and so he angrily brings it out when he feels threatened by their power over him, power to incite jealousy or love?Another object of Mrs. Dalloway that is sure to prove symbolic as the novel continues is the clock tower Big Ben. I think that Big Ben's bell, which rings at each half hour, could symbolize a transition in reality, or back into reality. Big Ben, the guardian of London, brings its citizens out of their revelries back into the city limits of reality. On page 48 when Elizabeth interrupts the tense scene between Clarissa and Peter, for instance, Big Ben "[strikes] out between them with extraordinary vigor, is if a young man, strong, indifferent, inconsiderate, were swinging dumb-bells this way and that." This is a very accurate and poetic description of Big Ben for this novel. Big Ben stands tall, and strong, very much like a proud young man. He looks over his city, disinterested. His only job is to strike out the time for the people of London. Big Ben cares neither for their afflictions nor their problems; he stands only to tell the time. Inconsiderately, he cries out the time, harshly breaking the conscious of his city's citizens.
I also believe that Regent's Park hold special significance. Briefly, I amused myself by inwardly comparing Regent's Park to the fairy land in Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream." In the fairy woods, the Athenian people all come together, each with their own problems. It is there that they ponder their predicaments (Rezia and Septimus thinking), sleep them off (Peter), are befuddled and confused (Septimus) and inexplicably drawn together. However, like I said, this literary parallel was not thought out, or dwelled on, because it was only a brief, passing whim of a correlation. However, I do believe it is true that, like the fairy-filled woods of "Midsummer," Regent's park holds great symbolism in this story.
I realize that my examination of symbolism in Mrs. Dalloway was brief, and filled almost entirely with speculation, however it is still (for me) rather early in the novel to make any sound conclusions, and a full analysis would take too long for my humble little blog.
For instance, on page 80 he actually goes so far as to hold the knife out from his body, as if he is brandishing it at a foe. "It was jealousy that was at the bottom of it- jealousy which survives every other passion of mankind, Peter Walsh thought, holding his pocket knife at arm's length." Peter then goes on to muse over a letter from his lover Daisy in which she mentioned a Major Orde in a girlish attempt to make him jealous. "He was furious!" What bothers him most is seeing Clarissa so calm and collected, and independent of him. He shuts his pocket knife then, thinking that women "don't know what passion is." Could it be true that Peter's knife symbolizes his desire to be above women, and so he angrily brings it out when he feels threatened by their power over him, power to incite jealousy or love?Another object of Mrs. Dalloway that is sure to prove symbolic as the novel continues is the clock tower Big Ben. I think that Big Ben's bell, which rings at each half hour, could symbolize a transition in reality, or back into reality. Big Ben, the guardian of London, brings its citizens out of their revelries back into the city limits of reality. On page 48 when Elizabeth interrupts the tense scene between Clarissa and Peter, for instance, Big Ben "[strikes] out between them with extraordinary vigor, is if a young man, strong, indifferent, inconsiderate, were swinging dumb-bells this way and that." This is a very accurate and poetic description of Big Ben for this novel. Big Ben stands tall, and strong, very much like a proud young man. He looks over his city, disinterested. His only job is to strike out the time for the people of London. Big Ben cares neither for their afflictions nor their problems; he stands only to tell the time. Inconsiderately, he cries out the time, harshly breaking the conscious of his city's citizens.
I also believe that Regent's Park hold special significance. Briefly, I amused myself by inwardly comparing Regent's Park to the fairy land in Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream." In the fairy woods, the Athenian people all come together, each with their own problems. It is there that they ponder their predicaments (Rezia and Septimus thinking), sleep them off (Peter), are befuddled and confused (Septimus) and inexplicably drawn together. However, like I said, this literary parallel was not thought out, or dwelled on, because it was only a brief, passing whim of a correlation. However, I do believe it is true that, like the fairy-filled woods of "Midsummer," Regent's park holds great symbolism in this story.
I realize that my examination of symbolism in Mrs. Dalloway was brief, and filled almost entirely with speculation, however it is still (for me) rather early in the novel to make any sound conclusions, and a full analysis would take too long for my humble little blog.
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