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.

Viginia The Poet

When I first began reading Mrs. Dalloway, I found myself very confused and uninterested. I gave up reading for comprehension or enjoyment, and read only because I was assigned too. A procrastinator, I skimmed quickly to make up for lost time, trying to reach my page quota.

The next day in class Mr. Lannon informed us that Virginia Woolf's intricate and detailed "stream of consciousness" technique cannot be read in a hurry. Strike one. It cannot be read when you are tired. Strike two. I was off to a bad start, but determined to try better. After going over the first third of the book in class, I had a better grasp on the novel, and was able to enjoy reading it immensely. I think that Woolf writes beautifully, and I really admire her ability to delicately capture even the most minute details of an average day. At first glance Clarissa Dalloway's life would seem uninteresting and average. As a woman, her life during this time would seem unimportant and two dimensional. I like how Woolf has shown that beneath the exterior facade of the "network of visiting, leaving cards, being kind to people; running about with bunches of flowers, little presents (77)" that made up a typical ladies life, there could be love and heartbreak, suppressed eroticism, secret adventures and silent shouldered burdens. I also like how Woolf can tell a character's life story in a short paragraph. Certain aspects of her writing remind me of her fellow contemporary, modernist writer Ernest Hemingway, but only slightly. Similar to Woolf, Hemingway (though in a more dramatic way, and more habitually) had the unique gift of being able to capture and imply intricate life details through a short span of words. Virginia Woolf teaches readers quite a lot about her characters in a short amount of time.

Another thing I love about Mrs. Dalloway is the presence of dramatic irony through Woolf's omniscient third party observer. As readers, we are allowed to know each (or at least most) of the character's inner workings and thoughts. We can see that Clarissa is not truly happy, however Peter does not. We know that Peter still loves Clarissa, and not the girl from India, but Clarissa is oblivious to this. Septimus panics when Rezia takes off her wedding ring, but we the readers know the real reason she took it off is due to the simple fact that it was falling off her slim finger. Readers are given the unique and conflicting perspectives of both Rezia and Septimus in their struggle to cope with their stresses, traumas, personal relationship, and befuddled minds. Knowing what each of the characters is thinking can be quite stressful for me as a reader though. Take for instance the scene between Clarissa and Peter when he charges up the stairs unannounced, surprising her while she mends her dress. While reading the scene, it is like watching a clip from a dramatic romance movie, in which the lovers, obviously made for each other, are risking everything by yelling at each other in a heated moment. As you are watching you want to pound on the T.V. screen and yell, "NO! Don't go, don't say that! You don't mean it! You love her, and she loves you!" But we can't. It's no use. As I'm reading pages 40 to 48 I find myself in a similar position, wishing that each character knew what the other thought. Woolf can be quite captivating; I couldn't put the novel down.

I find Woolf's writing style tricky, to be sure. I definitely have to make sure that I concentrate wholly on what I'm reading. But this trickiness is refreshing, and interesting. I am fascinated by the novel, and generally enjoy reading it. I really like her poetic language, certain phrases and fragments are just so perfect, I stop reading, and scan over the lines again and again and think, 'wow.' Emily Dickenson said something along the lines of "If I feel like the top of my head has just come off, I know it is poetry." Sometimes you read something, and you have to pause briefly, give your mind time to digest it, otherwise it is too large an idea, or too beautiful an object to fit all at once. When reading poetry, I sometimes have to wait for my mind to catch up, because it is busy just gaping in awe at this or that. Some phrases cannot even be contained to my mind, and so, like Dickenson, I feel them just float right on out through the top of my head, because they are that good. I feel this when reading Mrs. Dalloway. Woolf just explains certain things so simply, so perfectly, that they make absolute sense to me. Take page 30, "A matter-of-fact June morning." I can honestly say that I have experienced June mornings such as these, mornings in which you know that your only job is to exist and bask in the sunlight. I would never choose those words to describe it, but that's because I am not Virginia Woolf. She is one of those writers that you sometimes begin to resent, because they are just so darn good. You read a nicely structured sentence, with the perfect word choice and diction and you think, "well that's just great. That's perfect. Now none of us will ever have a chance at explaining a June morning so well. Thanks a lot, Virginia. Showoff."

The thing about talented writers, however, is that their lives are usually so screwed up and shitty, that you forgive them little faux pas like being good at what they do.

(Oh, and one more thing, I sorta like how Woolf is "paren-happy" like me. I can't help it, but I almost always seem to litter my written pieces with far too many parenthesis. I'm trying to break the habit.)

more ramblings on Eliot

I left class Thursday, Sept 11 feeling unsatisfied and annoyed with my consistent lack of understanding of "The Wasteland." I'm annoyed that I'm still hung up on this. Just what the world needs, yet another blog on the complexities of Eliot, posted by a frustrated student.

I have come to terms with my lack of understanding and coherence of the poem. Now I am frustrated that I still haven't been able to put it down. I'm still studying the piece, and the footnotes, and the post-poem articles, and Eliot's essays, and Internet analysis, and even asking advice. I have encountered a million answers but none seem to alleviate my perplexities of the piece as a whole. Here are some thoughts on some personal opinions I have made while desperately trying to learn on my own.

Eliot's allusions can be frustrating, however, is it possible that he included so many as a way to make what he is saying become more real? I know that the allusions are there for several reasons, but let's go back to the fundamental reasons writers choose to include historical or literary allusions. Often writers many include historical or literary allusions with the intent to give their writing emphasis or substance, some sort of historical backbone that supports their modern prose. Briefly, while re-reading "The Wasteland" the thought came to me that perhaps Eliot was doing something similar.
The physical allusions Eliot includes in "The Wasteland" include nouns from several different eras of history. The literary allusions range from early written works to those of his modern (no pun intended) contemporaries.
In the first section of the piece, Eliot speaks directly of clairvoyance, through the use of his Madame Sostrosis section. Also the second stanza of the first section includes the suggestion of the narrator's ghastly premonition. One of the larger themes of the poem includes the thought that death and decay is inevitable and that death is the only thing that brings true understanding or peace. Metaphorical aspects of the poem also seem to forshadow the destruction of human civilization, of empires, e.g. the destruction of Europe during WWI.
And so it occurred to me that perhaps Eliot was using these historical and literary allusions to say, partially, that this horrendous thing, this war, was inevitable. That everything in history was leading up to this climatic occurance.That the destruction was premeditated, that everything wondrous in society (modern advancements, beautiful artistry of literature, organized thoughts and doctrines) all of these things, though lovely, could be made ugly and useless, forgotten like the "empty chapel" in line 388. The chapel serves as a representation of a symbol no longer significant to people, for whatever reason. It may be that people have lost hope, as section V. seems to similarly spiral into darker imagery. I think that in a way the allusions can be reminders of something now made unattainable, symbols of something very far away from us, and for naught. Similar to the way the quest for the Holy Grail was always for naught, always out of reach, a wonderful myth of history that could never be attained or made true by the modern world. Eliot's wasteland echoes with voices of the past, of glittery things that the modern world no longer has a part of. His allusions are reminders of days gone by, paired side-by side with his dark imagery; the past and present colliding. Eliot is writing during a time of mourning for his (adopted) continent and it's culture. A generation has been obliterated; "he who was now living is now dead." This stanza of section V. clearly is a reference to Christ. Unlike the Biblical story of Christ however, the section does not speak of a Resurrection. Eliot feels as if there is no resurrection possible for Europe. It is here in section V. that the past and present finally meet with a sudden and abrupt reality check. This Christ reference is to Eliot and his readers yet another allusion. Unlike the fanciful story, there will be no resurrection in his wasteland's "real-life." Finally, as he closes, writer and reader have achieved peace with understanding. Understanding that there was a time and place for beauty (the origins of his represented allusions) however that time has passed. Death has reached him, that is all there is.

"If I came across a historical allusion, I ignored it."

Mr. Lannon, cover your ears...er..eyes.
I may "get in trouble" for what I'm about to say, but I'm saying it anyway.

As I have matured through the scholastic process, teachers have started urging me to not just read a passage, novel, or play, but to read it while engaging in critical thinking. Teachers and professors encourage me to highlight, underline, annotate, take notes, compare what I'm reading to other works, my own works, or my own life. I am told to make reading an interactive, engaging process. Countless times I have been told by scholastic mentors "don't just read it, really focus on what the piece is saying, think critically, and really study the piece." I think that the process of critical analysis is great, I really do. Making annotations is fun to me! But sometimes you just want to tread for the sake of reading. This is what I did through most of "The Waste Land" by T.S. Eliot. I knew the piece was notorious for being difficult and hard to comprehend, and so I chose to regress down a couple levels in my thinking and I went back to the basics of reading. I took one word at a time. And I was rewarded with a genuine love and appreciation of "The Wasteland."

What's not to love? It's fantastic; it's beautiful. The first few lines caught me with their intense imagery and metaphorical content. "April is the cruelest month, breeding/Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing/Memory and desire, stirring/Dull roots with spring rain." By turning off my "Critical thinking" portion of my brain for just a little while, I was able to focus on the form of the piece, on each individual word or phrase rather than the overall message or theme. (Ok so maybe the critical thinking desire came back everyonce inawhile...I couldn't help but notice that his opening stanza ended each line with an ING verb...once a critical reader always a critical reader). I felt guilty while reading the poem, and if I were cheating or taking the easy way out. I felt like a young reader again, when I was in second grade and I read any books my parents or grandparents left lying around the house. When I was that young I didn't always understand what I was reading, I simply read for the pure enjoyment of the action of reading itself. I refused to read the foot-notes my first time through, I just languidly breezed though it, stopping only to translate the occasional German, French, Italian, or Sanskrit phrase. If I came across a historical allusion, I ignored it. I focused only on Eliot's word choice, syntax, and "pretty words." I read one section at a time, not even bothering to find connecting themes between them. My high school A.P. English teacher would be so ashamed.

Maybe it was cheating, I'm not sure, but it sure did help me get through the darn thing the first few times. And who knows, maybe it helped me to actually enjoy Eliot, rather than resent him as several of my peers seem to do.

Favorite parts that stick out to me were "Part II. A Game Of Chess." the imagery here is thick and rich and conveys a decadent yet mysterious image that eventually leads into the two women's conversation at what I think is a bar. Also, I really enjoyed the Biblical allusions in "What The Thunder Said." I did not catch the correlation in the first stanza to Christ until I read "The Significance of The Modern Wasteland." When I then re-read the poem I found this stanza really jumping out at me. Eliot says that because of Salvation, "We who were living are now dying/With a little patience." I love that line. The way it details a portion of the human experience really made sense to me. People can get fed up with living. Things get hard, or monotonous, but we keep waking up, with patience, because many of us feel as if we have a reason to. And so patiently, we continue. The following stanzas felt rushed and harried to me, I read through them quickly and almost breathlessly. I know this is no coincidence. Eliot's words became urgent and pleading and he repeats "If there were water...if there were only water...If there were water." The proceeding lines, 359 to 376 were also favorites of mine.

I believe that to read modern works effectively, one needs to approach the task with an engaging mind, make the process an interactive one, and search for correlations, themes, and submerged messages. In reading "The Wasteland" however, I chose to return to the basics of reading and read for pleasure only, remarking in awe Eliot's intricate writing style and vivid imagery and metaphors. I still have a long way to go with this piece, there is a lot about it I need to learn. But for my first initial readings this past weekend, I chose to ignore such pressures and i took it one word at a time. As a result, I enjoyed every word. Upon taking modern literature classes in high school, I developed a little crush on modernist works. Eliot has helped to solidify my interest and appeal to modernism. I find it a little ironic that my appreciation of modernism was furthered through a poem of which I understood little, but enjoyed none the less. To quote Eliot himself, "It's so elegant/So intelligent."