Age

As I read Song of Solomon, I must constantly remind myself that Milkman is middle aged now. I still think of him as being in his mid 20s, full of energy and sass. I just cannot picture 40 year old Milkman, no matter how hard I try. Guitar is the same-- they never seem to age. I think that perhaps Milkman never notices how old he is getting, either. He still parties hard at 40, gets in fights with younger men, and acts pretty immature (at first). Could one explanation for his change of heart and desire to go out on his own be that he is having a Mid-life crisis? The thought never occured to me until about 5 minutes ago, since even when I consciously realize how old he is, I still think of him as young. Instead of a traditional midlife crisis of wanting to be young again, Milkman is finally trying to act his age. It is odd, but I think it really fits the saying "the grass is greener on the other side." Even when he matures, however, I think of Milkman as youthful. I guess that's because even a 20 year old should be responsible enough to go out on his own, and Milkman has never tried to do this until he is twice that age.
Milkman's "midlife crisis" interests me as a possible reason for his desire to venture outside of his hometown, because it brings his age to the foreground, forcing me to acknowledge it. But I don't think that being older than he seems makes him seem weaker or more immature. In fact, I think it makes him al the more impressive--similar to the old men he encounters in Shalimar. Them, I think of as 40 (when really they are around 60 years old). Yet they are described as being able to overpower Milkman (at least, he thinks so). It seems like often in this book, the older you get, the more powerful you get-- not the other way around. And not just respect power-- I'm talking about the physical ability to overpower others. Sure, Macon is overpowered by Milkman when they are both 20 years younger, but most of the old guys can hold their own.
Milkman punching his dad brings me to my last observation about age in this novel. We have discused the characters living in the past, and I think this is a main reason why both they and us are compelled to think of them as eternally youthful. When Lena is ripping her brother apart with criticism, she refers to two incidents. One, punching Macon, happened 20 years prior to this confrontation! And yet she brings it up as if it had happened yesterday-- and he knows exactly what she is talking about. She also refers to the peeing incident, around 40 years ago! Milkman does not recall it, but the fact that a young Lena remembers the events as if it were yesterday says a lot to me about how the Dead family is rooted in the past, unable to fly away from it.

Milkman's Maturation

Reading chapters 10 though 12, I couldn't help but admire Milkman's independance and dedication to his mission. Of course, what mission this is is quite ambiguous-- is he looking for gold to share with his dad and Guitar, or is he following some calling to find out about his family's past (we know how much of a role the past plays in this book)-- but this post is not about the mission itself, it is about how Milkman acts while he is on his own (something he has never really desired until lately). While most of his time is spent being much more serious than usual, I was pleased to notice several instances where the old, fun-loving Milkman shows through. In particular, I enjoyed the end of chapters 10 and 12, when he is getting excited about a realization that shows him the next step he must take in his quest. I find myself leaning forward in my chair, my heart racing, beaming as I share Milkman's enthusiasm. It's kind of like a detective novel, actually, since we have the same information that Milkman has, and can try to figure things out along with him.
Another thing that impressed me with Milkman is his intelligence. I always assumed he was smart, but never really saw it explicitly in the book until he logically figures out holes in people's stories. And he is finally beginning to develop some common sense, too. While this part of him is not yet complete (fight with Saul), it is definitely improving, and we see that he can learn from past mistakes (he gets along with the people of Shalimar after Saul leaves).
He is also more skilled socially than the old Milkman was. When Guitar confronts him about "stealing" the Gold from "them," Milkman attempts to maintain a calm composure, despite wanting to shout, as the old Milkman would have done. While his story does not convince Guitar, I think it is more successful than yelling would have been. At least they are on decent terms again, all as a result of talking things out.
It is undeniable that Mlkman has changed a lot in the past few chapters. I think that overall, he has definitely improved-- he now takes responsability for his own actions and takes his fate into his own hands. He cannot necessarily be blamed for having been too carefree-- he never new anything other than being spoiled-- but we can give him credit for trying to change after realizing how immature and undeserving he had been. I am glad, though, that he hangs on to his ability to laugh and have fun, since I enjoy reading about him being happy.

Seven Days

In the discussion I helped lead on Tuesday, we did not have the time to cover one small part of chapter 10: Milkman finding out who the members of the Seven Days are.  Although not even a page is dedicated to this occurence, it struck me as very important regarding Milkman's emotions regarding his home.
To begin, Milkman lists the members as all belonging to the group that meets at the barbershop to discuss politics and race issues. People we have seen before in this book. People he has known all his life. Or has he truly known them? I think that Milkman feels betrayed by this discovery that the people he has ineracted with the longest (outside of his family) are murderers, whose cause he sees as unjust and irrational. He feels like a stranger in his hometown, a fact shown by his description of a handshake he had never seen before. When combined with the wecome her receives in Danville and the indifference, but later acceptance from the men of Shalimar (and one woman), Milkman truly begins to question where he belongs. Also contributing to his new desire to discover himself is how Lena tears him apart and tells him his time of being spoilt is over.
Another thing that came to my mind when reading about hwo was in the Seven Days was the discussion so many years ago about Emmitt Till. What Milkman had then understood to be an innocent discussion about the infairness of the law now becomes moch more serious to him. He realizes that they were discussing a murder that was actually going to happen. I think that even before his discussion with Lena, Milkman is beginning to become more serious. I think that before, he was oblivious to death. He knew what it was, even knew people who had died. But he did not understand that death was all around him (who he is, in fact). However, after seeing all the Seven Days together, he knows that his whole like has been lived surrounded by death. The people who he interacts with are either Dead or make people dead. This is a very sobering revelation for Milkman, and it is what prepares him to take Lena's words to heart.
So in a way, I think that while the mention of seeing the group together was very brief, it sets the stage for Milkman's change of character. It is the first step that prepares him for what Lena has to say, which in turn prepares him to break away from his father's commands and pursue the gold not for anyone, but to discover himself.

Guitar's development

One thing that struck me from the first chapter of Song of Solomon was the young boy who knew how to spell "Admissions." It wasn't only his intelligence, though-- the name Guitar alone would be enough to spark my curiosity (how DID he get that name, anyway?). And the description... "cat-eyed"..."five or six years old"... wow. When I was five, I didnt know the difference between the words "mat" and "mate." The way Guitar addresses his Grandma is also interesting. They do not see the white nurse as deserving more respect than they do, nor do they pretend to. I wish that we received more information about his background, because "Granny" seems to be Pilate-esque in her aura of power. It is obvious that Guitar respects her immensely, at leats at his young age. He takes great interest in Pilate's singing, solely because his grandma smiles at her. And thats the only mention of Guitar until the next chapter, several years later. Again, the respect for Granny shows through, when he and his brother take her words as very important, that "a nigger in business is a terrible thing to see." Interesting that the same man who is willing to send him to the streets is the father of Milkman, his best friend. Another thing I noticed was that this willingness shown in chapter 2 to evict the Bains family is similar to when he evicts Porter in chapter 10. I think that the combination of these two incidents makes Guitar strongly dislike Macon Jr, and reminds him of the woman he admired so dearly.
I still am at a loss when it comes to finding a relationship between his youth and his decision to become involved with the Seven Days. Of course, he witnessed the death of his predecessor, but I do not see his membership as a result of this. One can tell from his attitude as a child that he is much more serious that Milkman. Spelling rather than peeing on his sister, worrying about where to live rather than assuming others will provide for him.  Still, the only allusion to his future "job" that i notice when reading about Guitar as a child is when his eyes are referred to as "gashes," a term giving a violent image associated with him.
Throughout his teens, however, Guitar seems to be an older Milkman. When introducing Milkman to Pilate for the first time, Guitar seems particularly cheeky; at least, until the conversation turns to death. It is not irrational to assume that he was naturally more carefree as a teen than as an older man or young, impressionable boy. Still, it is hard for me to see the same person in the Guitar who asks whether or not Pilate really has a belly button and the Guitar who tries to kill Milkman out of paranoia. Hopefully we get to learn more about Guitar as the book goes on, because I find him one of the most intriguing characters we have encountered all semester.

Response to blog entries

At the beginning of the year, I was intrigued by the idea to blog about the reading assignments.  I had not ever kept a journal like you used to require, but I did keep a blog in Ms. Majerus' class last year, and enjoyed it immensely. I began writing with some uncertainy as to what was expected of me, but soon found a tone I enjoy writing in, because it captures my thought process well.
In fact, the blogs are one of the things I have enjoyed most from this class. They allow me to record my thoughts on specific pasages and characters, and now I am really enjoying looking back on my thoughts on old books. I also am surprised by how much my tone has changed over the course of this semester. I have noticed that, as my undersatanding of how casual these blogs can be grows, my enthusiasm when writing them increases as well. For the first couple of months (while still being interested in my topics) I was going about writing blogs unemotionally and I think they were kind of boring (no offense to my past self). Now, however, I get excited writing them and often have to catch myself and slow down before I get TOO far off topic--which bring me to another thing I like about this assignment. It allows me to just throw out thoughts as they occur to me. In papers, I often find myself having to exclude points of interest because I cannot smoothly incorporate them into the content. While blogging, though, I can be very informal about mentioning side thoughts (kind of like Howie's footnotes). The only downside to this is that sometimes I get annoyed at myself for not leaving the extra time to write individual posts for all of these miscellaneous thoughts.
Regarding the blog vs. journal debate, I think that either would work very well in the future. Each has obvious pros (blogs: easily accessible to everyone, no bad handwriting, easy to rewrite stuff; journals: private, I personally find it easier to write essays on paper before transferring them to Word) and cons (blogs: easily accessible to everyone, you need to actually be at a computer to make a post; journals: no one else can see them unless you share them with friends, bad handwriting, not always there if you want to make an entry).
To conclude, I would just like to say again how much I enjoyed the blogging aspect of this course, since it has provided me with an easy way to see my growth throughout the semester. They show me which books were my favorites (Song of Solomon, Sun Also Rises, The Stranger), because I write those posts much more enthusiastically than the others. I regret that I have not examined the work of my peers as much as I could (and probably should), but I intend to do that more often in the coming weeks as I reflect on my brief but enjoyable journey into the mysterious waters of Twentieth Century literature.

Repetition

I found many examples of repetition in WSS.  From the many references to looking-glasses to the end, where she dreams about what is about to happen, such examples defined the book for me. In class we talked about how she seems to be repeating the steps her mother took on the road to insanity. I agree, but think that it was harder to Antoinette to deal with this, since she also had to deal with the expectations that she would go crazy, even when she was young. As I mentioned in my last post, one example of repetition is how Rochester sleeps with Amelie while Antoinette is in the house, just as he will with Jane in JE. The fires at the beginning and end of the novel are another example. I personally think that Antoinette is planning to start a fire at the end because her strange logic tells her that her only hope for a return to her old life is to light a fire, to undo in a way the damage done by the fire that served as the start of her misery. That first fire served as the her last interaction with Tia, who was the most important person in her youth other than Christophene. This second fire would serve to separate her from Rochester, the reason she lost Pheena. I won't dwell on the use of mirrors in WSS,  but I think one of the reasons they are mentioned often is because they represent how life could have been for Antoinette was all the racial tension nonexistant. This is most prominent in her comparison to Tia as if through a looking glass, since the two could have been inseperable.
Using the repetition instances as guidance, I have reached the conclusion that the real culprits for Antoinette's tragic life were the people surrounding her as a child and throughout her entire life, not Rochester in particular. Yes, he was what made her go crazy when he could have saved her, but he was influenced by Cosway, the secret he assumed everyone but him was in on, and society's treatment of Antoinette and Cristophene in general.

Antoinette vs Jane

 When I learned that Wide Sargasso Sea was the story of Bertha from Jane Eyre, I was very intrigued. I never enjoyed Jane Eyre  very much, so I was somewhat hesitant in my judgment of this book. After reading it, I have decided that I do enjoy it more than its sister novel, mainly because the characters strike me as more complex. The one thing that prevented this book from being one of my favorites this year was that it was too slow to gain my interest. I would only gain interest in the book at the end of a section, when I would have to start all over again with the next narrator.
What I liked about WSS  were the emotions I felt while reading it. Antoinette was a very emotional narrator, which is the main thing that differed between her and Rochester. I really sympathized with her, since she fit with the pattern begun by the previous two books of being placed in an unfortunate position through no fault of her own. However, she is the most tragic of the three of them, since she is young when her troubles begin, and she does not even comprehend what is happening. I believe that her insanity was a direct result of her childhood trauma and her rejection by the man she loved. What I cannot understand is why he went out of his way to make her life worse. If he had left Antoinette in the West Indies when he returned to England, I could have tolerated him. But no, he took Bertha with him and completely ruined her life. I wonder how she felt about him getting together with Jane. It is so reminiscent of his night with Amelie, another intolerable act on his part. As long as he was planning to mislead people, why not just leave her in Jamaica and say she died or something? No one would frown upon him for that. The other thing I got mad at Rochester for was getting rid of Christophene. I think that that was what pushed Antoinette over the line. Pheena was the one person who could keep her in reality, the only reminder of the happy moments in her childhood.
I guess I got off topic from the comparison of Jane and Antoinette, but the main point was that I sympathize with Annie much more. Even in Jane's book, I viewed Rochester as a jerk, and thought Jane should have gone to a convent from the start. Even though I was kinda scared of Bertha and thought of her as a vampire, I felt bad for her being brought to England just to be locked in the attic.

Thoughts on The Stranger

      I liked this book. It was a quick, easy read, and had many things to reflect on philosophically (the best kind of reflection, in my opinion). However, I was just TOO stranger-esque. If the goal of the book was to make the reader very uncomfortable by encountering a very inhuman narrative, not just an inhuman main narrator, it was accomplished. The overall lack of emotion was striking, and the cool approach to life was not at all realistic, even among the minor characters. In fact, the only person who struck me as having normal human emotions was Perez, whose emotion was mocked in a way.
I think one thing that did not get enough attention in our class discussion was Meursault's relationship with his mother. The first line is about her, so she obviously means something to him, even if the feeling is not traditional love for one's mom. I think that he does care about her, he just cannot express it in ways understandable to the rest of society. For example, smoking at the funeral and not looking at her corpse. The court treats these actions as proof that he must be exterminated, but he simply thinks that once she is dead, why should it matter whether or not he smokes there? It all amounts to the same thing.
I would finally like to address Meaursault's revelation. The way I see it, he thinks that life has no other meaning beyond the act of being alive, which is the supreme hope and goal of humans. This makes it even more intriguing that he is dubbed inhuman, since he is the only person who knows what it means to be human. I think the main difference between Meursault and the others is that they are passionate about life while remaining ignorant about this truth about humans, while Meursault only starts caring once he realizes that its what he should do. (I'm assuming that he is correct in his newfound philosophy.)
To wrap up, I found The Stranger  a very good book in that is was easy to follow and was extremely intriguing, but it was too strange to enjoy in itself. On a side note, I cannot believe how many times i have used the word "strange" to describe this book... veeerrrryyyy interesting. While I don't personally agree with Meursault's beliefs (or, to quote a less politically correct friend, "F*** Meursault"), I think that the realization he comes to complicates the book, thus improving the difficulty of interpreting the novel. When we factor in what was going on at the time in France, the question of what Camus is trying to say become exponentially more intriguing. (I use that word a lot too with this book, but that's a good thing.) My overall opinion: The Stranger did not have very impressive prose or plot, but is great if you want to spark a heated debate on deep stuff.

The Uncontrollable

The Stranger is all about inevitability. We assume that Meursault had no control over his "accidental murder" of another man. He cannot control his actions during the act, and is equally helpless during the trial, when his fate is being decided by more strangers.
Camus represents this helplessness by using the heat as Meursault's foremost thought and motivating factor. While we can influence behavior of other humans and manipulate objects, the weather is one thing that humans are unable to alter. In particular, heat is very common. Meursault's reaction to it shows how he is different from "normal" people who would just live with it or turn on a fan or strip or something.
When he is about to leave to shoot the arab, Meursault thinks about the extreme heat and decides that no mater what he does, it amounts to the same thing. While this could mean that he will eventually die no matter what, I think it also means that he will be hot if he goes inside of stays outside. As he is about to pull the trigger, the glare from the arab's knife intensifies the heat, pushing Mearsault over the edge. Of course, he could do nothing to prevent the heat. In this situation, the heat represents his lack of control over what happened. Later on, while at trial, Meursault again notices the heat inside the courtroom. He is just sitting there while his attorney makes his case for him, against another attorney he has never met before, to be judged by a group of people he has never seen before and finally to be sentenced by another complete stranger. (On a side note, I think that this could be an alternate meaning for the book's title. Maybe my next post will be about that.) Again, the heat marks a situation in which Meursault has no control over his future.
To conclude, I think that heat has two roles in this novel. First, it represents the uncontrollable, reinforcing the argument that Meursault was fated to kill a man. Heat also brings out the contrast between Meursault and the average human being, who will react much differently and with less passion than Meursault does. (Another side note-- isn't it interesting how the thing he cares most about in the world is the temperature? More than his girlfriend or friends or mother.)

L'etranger et Le Compte

Last week I started rereading one of my favorite books, The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. For those unfamiliar with the plot, it is about a guy who gets accused of a crime (he's innocent) and sent to jail for about 15 years. When he escapes, he gets a bunch of money and takes revenge on the people who accused him. Anyways, I was reading the part where the protagonist, Edmond Dantes, is searching in a cave for treasure when I was struck by an existentialist parallel to Camus' The Stranger.

"Dantes descended, murmuring the supreme word of human philosophy: 'Perhaps.'"

I was immediately stuck by the similarity to Camus' point that we are all battling death even though we know we have no hope of victory. Of course, there are obvious differences. Meursault is hoping for life, while Dantes is just hoping for a fortune. Meursault actually realizes what is going on, while Dantes never actually has any understanding of "human philosophy." Then again, Dantes is a much more sympathetic protagonist, even though he is responsible for several deaths over the course of the book, not just one unnamed Arab. Of course, Dantes also does some good things, but i think the main reason we favor him over Meursault is because we relate to him more. Meursault is alien to us in his approach to the world and other people. He strikes us as lacking a normal amount of emotion and "common sense." Dantes, however, is very grounded in basic human reasoning. Seeking revenge seems the natural thing to do in his situation, as do his tendencies to help those he is close to. While he goes about his business with badassness, Dantes is in general a very relatable character, the opposite of Meursault. I think that, similar to the Jury's opinion in Camus' novel, even a morally questionable human is preferable to someone who is not identifiable as having a human mind. The main reason behind this is that familiarity is the first thing we look for in a character. The same comparison is found in the general consensus that Rochester's narration has more credibility that Antoinette's in Wide Sargasso Sea.

Narrator in the Metamorphosis

To me, one of the most intriguing aspects of The Metamorphosis is the narration style. As discussed in class, the narrator seems to be a detached observer, as if conducting an experiment on the Samsa family. In class, Joey mentioned that he thinks the "experiment" (if we take this hypothesis to be true) is conducted on the whole family rather than just on Gregor. That is, whatever being is organizing the test is comparing how the family reacts to their providing son becoming a "gigantic insect" versus how they, or any normal family,  acted when life was routine. I'm not sure I agree entirely with this, because of the narrator's perspective. In the novella, we are forced to look at the world from Gregor's point of view. This is not unbiased, this is designed to make us feel sympathy for him. Perhaps the experiment is actually about how a person percieves their family and work. Gregor's first reaction to being a cockroach is to think about getting to work, and then he thinks about how he spports his family. Over the course of the book, he praises his sister often. He fears his father, but also has a degree of respect for him. Maybe the book is trying to show how he needs emotional support from his family, since seeing people he cares about turn on him breaks him inside, eventually leading to his death after his sister's outburst.
Maybe we are completely misguided, and it is not an experiment at all. Maybe his family really does still love him, and are acting happy at the end of the book to hide their sadness. The narrator is not omnipotent, he relates what he onserves in Gregor's mind and from what a person outside can see. One possibility is that for the last passage (after his death), the narrator is still conveying Gregor's point of view, just now from heaven!
It is interesting how the narration style becomes much more impersonal after his death, and there are again many possible interpretations for this. Does the narrator lose interest in the story, but want to wrap it up? Is he realizing that he became too involved with Gregor, and is desperately trying to save face in his scientific Deity community by detachedly observing the actions of the Samsas post-Gregor?
Is Kafka just pulling a prank on all of us and just randomly changing the narrative style to mess with our minds? Is he attempting to rescue the thousands of schoolchildren in need of blog post topics? The world may never know...

Jake

I wish I had found the time to write a more extensive post on Jake, since he is one of the more complex characters in the novel. At times, he is one of my favorites; sometimes I cannot stand him. He also has his "disability" to deal with, which is something I must take into account when evaluating his decisions.
Overall, I really respect Jake. We dealt the most with Brett during class discussions, so I will first address his relationship with her. I think that he is just a great guy, who deserves someone better. I suppose that with love, one cannot really choose to like "someone better", since he sees her as ideal. However, he gives her everything she asks for, sans question. If she wants emotional support, he is always there for her. If she is broke, he's there for her. If she wants help hooking up with a new guy, he's there. If she broke and in need of emotional support after breaking up with a guy he helped hook her up with, guess what? He's got her back! What a great guy.
I often wondered as I was reading the book, "What does Jake really feel when Brett associates with other guys in front of him?" Jealousy, because she chooses them over him? Resentment, that they can provide her with something he will never be able to do for her? Acceptance, that they provide somethings, and he others? Or pride, that she will always claim to prefer him over all other men in her life? I can think of plausible arguments for all of these hypotheses, and think that at different times, he feels different emotions. With different people, as well. Perhaps resentment towards Cohn, pride towards Mike, and acceptance towards Romero?
The only thing that I mind about Jake is his attitude regarding Robert Cohn. He seems to string him along, acting like a friend to him, but not truly feeling any compassion for the man--even talking shit about him behind his back. While Jake seems to be for the most part a man worthy of my respect, this treatment of Cohn strikes me as petty and mean. When Mike is going off on Cohn while drunk, Jake says to stop talking like that. By saying that, he is pretty much admitting that he agrees with Mike, just not publicly. If he were a real friend, he would have defended Robert. I think that maybe one reason for this animosity is the fact that Jake considers Cohn unworthy of Brett, so the fact that she sleeps with him (even out of charitableness) offends him.
To wrap up, I think that Jake is generally a great guy, especially when interacting with Brett. However, he is quite harsh to Cohn, something that I find inconsistent with what i had previously thought of him. One could defend this by saying that his injury excuses him from animosity towards Brett's flings, since it would be hard for anyone to not be taken by jealousy in a sumilar situation. While I think that it is still inexcusable, I maintain that Jake is a good "mind husband" to Brett and friend to men such as Bill, who have no connection to his love.

Brett

Do I really need this post? I feel like the topic of Brett has been exhausted is class discussions, but it never hurts to hate on a deserving character some more. I've decided to give Brett the benefit of the doubt, and argue that she isn't an inconsiderate bitch (that argument is too easy to make). Instead, I think that she is just clueless. That is the only plausible explanation for a lot of her actions, if being heartless and inconsiderate is not an option. Given her obvious feelings for Jake, I think that (at least in situations regarding our handicapped narrator) she just fails to realize how much her flings with other men hurt him. If she was aware of the effect they had on Jake, surely she would stop immediately. Only at the end of the book does she start to become aware of the fact that she really has the power to chance a man's life, and she is frightened by this knowledge. In fact, when she is realizing this, I actually come close to pitying her--that is, until I realize that she is only frightened and confused because she led on multiple guys and was quite ungrateful to them in the process.
I think that part of the reason Brett is ignorant about Jake's true feelings is that he is determined to not let her know. He's a great guy, so he wants her to be happy no matter what--even if that means more emotional pain for himself. Still, it seems pretty obvious that you don't ask your "one true love" to hook you up with some random spanish guy.
Nevertheless, I find it impossible to maintain that Brett is just stupid; there is undeniably some ungratefulness and inconsiderateness going on with her. What we did not cover as much as I had hoped for in class was her relationship with Mike, since her actions affect him as well as Jake. Mike, however, is not nearly as good of a guy as Jake is. (As Brett says, they are good for each other.) He isn't as good at putting her misguided happiness ahead of his emotional wellbeing, so his reaction to her going off with Romero and Cohn is more jealous than Jake's which is mainly regretful. At the end of the book, Brett expects to go back to Mike, assuming that he will take her no matter what. For me, this really speaks volumes about how ungrateful she is. He doesn't have to take her back, he doesn't owe her anything! She left him! What Brett assumes is that she can do basically whatever she wants, with no consequences. After all, whats to stop her from hooking up with whoever she wants if she can go back to her fiancee afterwards and pretend it never happened? No level of simply stupidity could account for that; it remains that Brett is without a doubt ungrateful.
The final argument I have against Brett is that she seems to pretend to reform without having any real commitment to doing so. At the end of the novel, when she is talking to Jake, she says that she's going to change, and wants him to help her through the hard times that will surely be encountered. Of course, this could be her cluelessness, but to me it seems obvious that Jake is not going to hold her to ANY OBLIGATION WHATSOEVER. If she decides to sleep with the Count next week, Jake won't do anything to stop her, since he sees the act as one that makes her happy. If it isn't cluelessness, Brett is saying an empty resolution with the knowledge that she will not be held to it if she chooses to go against it. I can't truly be annoyed at her for this, since we never find out what happens after she decides to "go straight", but judging from her past actions, the reformation will be short-lived.
Overall, I have to say that I just do not respect Lady Brett Ashley.

Robert

Robert Cohn is a loser. That much is obvious. Mike is right when he calls Cohn out-- no one wants him around. But part of me respects Robert. Loserish as he may be, he still commands some respect. His values would be very respected anywhere but with Brett, Mike, Jake, and Bill. Defending his lady would be very appropriate if she actually was his lady, and was actually offended. I feel bad for Cohn, since he seems stuck on a group of people whose morals are extremely low, and whose respect for people different than themselves is minimal. Of course, this is his own fault, but I'll forget about that for now, attributing it to his general cluelessness.
The moment in which Robert really does gain my respect is when he fights Romero. The fight in itself is a very stupid thing to do. Again, I'd be okay with it if Brett really was his lady, but in the given situation, Robert is extremely misguided in his plan to make Brett become "clean". What makes me respect him is when he refuses to hurt Romero any more, and offers to help. To me, that is a really big thing to do. Sadly, part of me thinks that he only stopped fighting because he was too wishywashy to continue, not because he thought it was the right thing to do. I think that this wishywashiness governs a lot of Robert's life, a regrettable situation for him to be in.
I wish that Robert had not just left Spain without any true goodbyes, because I think that those goodbyes would have been very interesting. I also wish that we were able to see his last conversation with Brett. However, I realize that leaving quietly is a fitting end for such a character.
Overall, I think that there are two things that hold Cohn back from being well liked. First, who he hangs out with. If he had been with any respectable people, I feel that Robert would ha ve been more well-liked. Also, the man just needs to be more assertive! The difference between Cohn and every other guy in the novel is how assertive they are, and he is the clear loser when compared with Jake, Mike, and Bill.

Bill

On to the other person I like! Bill is just hilarious, and brings a light side to the novel that improves is drasticaly. If it weren't for Bill's presence, I would soon have gotten bored of the serious tone of the novel. Despite being a racist (which I'll give him the benefit of the doubt for since I guess a lot of people were back then), Bill is my favorite person in the book. He manages to stay out of all the Brett-drama,  which shows something about his laid back attitude.He's also a very loyal friend. Jake could count on Bill to be there for him, as we know from the fact that Bill is aware of Jake's injury. (We also know that Bill is not always just a comedian, since he can be very tactful about the injury and Jake's relationship with Brett.)
I think that Bill serves a very important role in the functioning of the novel, too. His presence keeps the mood light when we know how tense the other people are. It is important that he has no previous connection to Brett, since that allows him to remain detached from the main drama of the story (which I think was a pretty good idea). What I found interesting was that naither he nor Brett endeavored to get to know each other more-- they both seemes content with their current relationship.
I enjoyed seeing Bill happy, so one of my favorite scenes in the whole novel was when he and Jake are drinking on the bus with the Basques. While this is not a dramatic scene at all, it is still very interesting, since it marks what Bill is getting out of the trip. It seems like Bill has finally found his people, those who love fun just as much as he does. I think that an ideal ending (if a bit too poetic) would have been for Bill to become a Basque. Of course, I realize that they actually have to work physically more than Bill, the writer, would be cool with. But iI do feel like Bill enjoys this time with Jake and the Basques more than anything else on the trip.
Go Bill!!!

Mike

Mike annoys me, but I do feel bad for him; he has the misfortune of being engaged to Brett. I think that he should not have treated Cohn the way he did in Spain, but he did have a reason. I mean, his fiancee is going off to have sex with pretty much whoever she wants to. At first, Mike comes across as not really caring, but when he is drunk he shows how he truly feels.
The two mains instances are when he goes off on Cohn and when they are all drinking with Romero.
First, he calls out Cohn for following Brett around when nobody likes him. Everyone feels that way, but he is the only person tactless enough to say it out loud. But while I disagree with his manners, his behavior was not without good cause. Brett is being Brett (inconsiderate and ungrateful) and Robert is obviously in love with her. Neither really cares what Mike thinks about the whole situation.
The second occasion in which Mike shows his feelings while drunk is when they are drinking with Romero, and he keeps shouting about how Brett wants to see Pedro put on his pants. This is when Mike first shows how jealous he is of the attention Brett pays other men. Sadly, Brett doesn't acknowledge his feelings, taking him for granted in her life. I think that the way she treats Mike makes him act more harshly and crudely towards the other men in her life (Jake excepted).
In conclusion, I think that Mike would have been a very likable character in any other setting. He is social, funny, and not too annoying. The only thing that makes me dislike him in this novel is Brett. I think that, as with many men, she brings out the worst in Mike.

Romero

I have mixed feelings about Pedro Romero. Part of me respects him, since after all, hes an amazing toredor! However, most of me thinks that he's a naive, stupid child. To go along with the comparison between Montoya and the traditional world, I feel that Romero represents the shift from tradition to industrialization. Despite being seemingly content with his life before meeting Jake and Brett, he is drawn to them, to the extent of compromising his soon-to-be illustrious life as a masterful bullfighter. In the battle between the traditional world (which offers him respect, comfort, safety to a degree, and lots of wine) and the urban world (which is flashy in the form of Lady Brett Ashley), the new worlds wins. In his defense, Romero wants Brett to grow out her hair and marry him, which shows that he still has some ties to the world he is most familiar with. However, one could argue that this just means he is ignorant about her world.
Personally, I think that Romero is quite foolish. In class we talked about how Cohn and Jake both try to appear agressive, courageous, stoic... masculine. However, I also see Romero as trying to establish his masculinity. For me, he fails at this. When Robert Cohn confronts him and Brett, Romero is an idiot. Cohn destroys him in a fight--completely overpowering Romero so that one can hardly call it a fight--but then asks for forgiveness and refuses to continue massacring Romero. I see this act of peace (albeit following an act of violence) as a very manly thing.. being the bigger man! However, Romero wants to "defend his honor" or something stupid like that, so he hits Cohn, and promptly collapses. What does he prove by this? Not much, other than that he doesn't know when to quit. Cohn wants to help him (again, being the bigger man) but what does he do? Threatens to kill him. Yeah, big talk for the guy whos too weak to stand. After this occurence, my respect for Romero diminished rapidly. Perhaps it was his traditional side urging him to maintain honor and never admit defeat (or something eqully misguided), but I think it was his stupid side. I was angry when Brett stayed with him, comforting him and tending to his wounds. Even someone as undeserving as her should have someone better than Romero. I think that he's one of those guys for whom life will favor, as long as he learned his lesson about interaction with the urbanites and sticks to bullfighting. One of my only complaints about an otherwise great book is that Robert should have stayed in town one more day, just to beat him up again, because, honestly, Romero deserves a good beating. Also, after his threat to kill Cohn, a nice ego shrinking might have done him some good.

Montoya

Unfortunately, I have been incredibly busy and fatigued over the last couple weeks, so I haven't been a ble to blog about all the stuff I really wanted to address. However, I HAVE to talk about one thing from The Sun Also Rises: the characters. They are so intricate and intriguing that I won't be able to discuss them in nearly enough detail to satisfy me, but I'll do my best to convey my general feelings on them. I'll start with Montoya, since he is one of the few people I actually like.
Montoya is the stable character throughout the novel. His actions always represent his views, and his views never change. To me, he represents the traditional Spain painted by Hemingway. Throughout the book, this pastoral scenery is what seems appealing to the reader, and Montoya personifies this feeling of comfort and stability. In my opinion, Hemingway uses him to show how the industrialized world is closing out the traditional, peaceful world. When Romero begins to hang out with Brett, Montoya loses respect for Jake, who he had thought to be on his side. This signifies the victory of the urban society over the rural society. While the traditional scene of Spain has much to offer in comfort and safety, Brett, Jake, Bill, and Mike show Romero a more exciting world that appeals to an adventurous young man such as himself.
I think that Montoya has every right to feel as he does towards the expatriots. All he wants is to see his world continue, and they are encroaching on this territory and ruining it for him. For his reason, I see his a tragic figure, since he represents a whole culture.

Before its too late!

Before I forget completely, I want to address the panel presentations from Monday and Tuesday. The two talks that interested me were the “Septimus as Christ” presentation and the “Different ways to read the novel” one. They, for me, led to the most interesting discussion and I wish we had had at least an entire period for each.

First, the Septimus talk. This was very engrossing for me, especially after my talk. My first thought was, “Wow, wouldn’t it be incredible if Woolf planned all of this! Any author who can include characters based off of Greek goddesses and other characters based off of Christ must be incredible talented!” As I said in class, I now think that the Septimus tie is coincidence, while the Demeter connection was actually planned. For an atheist, referencing Christ seems unlikely, even if it is used to make a point. Virginia Woolf strikes me as a woman who would not compromise her views to say something; she would simply use her talent to find a different medium with which to say that England needed change.

Staying with the same discussion, I definitely do see some sort of connection, even if it does seem to be coincidence. It could be that she unconsciously thought of Christ, or that such a religious idea was ingrained in her head so that it appeared in Septimus even without the conscious acknowledgment of what she had done. No matter what reason, if any, the Septimus character was introduced for, he is certainly important. Since all the reasons presented for his analogousness to Christ were legitimate, it was hard for me to decide which of the ideas (Demeter or Jesus) to side with as intentional. In the end, I went with the Demeter idea, probably because I knew the most about it (having presented it, and having loved Greek mythology when I was in elementary school—the abridged Iliad and Odyssey were two of my first books). It just seems like the most probable thing for Woolf to write about, since she was a feminist, was widely read in Greek myths, and was often mentioned writing in a “Homeric” style.

Now, on to the other presentation. The main part of this that interested me was the “Richard or Peter” question posed at the very end. Of course, I have to share my personal view. It is a very hard question to answer, since I know the characters so well inside and out that I feel as if I am condemning a friend if I choose poorly. Either way, I am hurting Peter or Richard, both of whom I like a lot. In fact, I feel as if I were a character, I would be a blend of them, and can see sides of me through them as the book progresses. In Peter’s defense, he was her first love, and certainly affected her greatly. She clearly still cares for him, and he for her. He represents things she doesn’t admire in life (lack of ambition, disdain for her lifestyle, etc) but the fact that she is so overwhelmed when he shows up seems to show that she really does love him, deep down. That she feels so ashamed at the party when he is looking at her with judgment speaks for itself—he means a LOT to her. However, Richard also has a grip on Clarissa’s heart. He is clearly a person to be admired: not cocky, doesn’t feel entitled, kind and sincere, the list goes on and on. However, I question whether he and Clarissa are right for each other. I got the feeling that Clarissa chose him strictly because she felt that was what society required of her. Her goal was always to be a popular member of the upper class, and Richard must have seemed to be the perfect way to achieve this. This sounds mean to Clarissa, but I also think she truly loves him. What I believe, however, is that she forced this love upon herself. After all, who wouldn’t want to love Richard? Their marriage appears, to me, to be less of a love connection for her, and more of a business connection, with the bonus of having a husband she loves. I mean, it’s clear she does love him. She feels as if she has let him down with the smallest blunder (even if he notices nothing wrong), she strives to please him constantly. However, I can’t quite bring myself to say that they belong together. They can’t even talk about what’s important—their feelings and goals—and if communication can fail so easily, I don’t want to call their love “deep”.

Therefore, my opinion is that in a perfect world, Clarissa would not have married at all. I don’t know what the social norms were at the time, so it is possible that this would have damned her in society or something… I don’t know.  However, In A Perfect World, she would be able to attain her goals sans her connection to Richard. Since she clearly cares strongly for both men in her life, I think that she should have maintained a strong friendship with each of them, but not married either. I can’t predict what an alternate life would have been like for her had she married Peter, but I am fairly certain that he would have led her away from Richard. The combination of Peter and Richard shows Clarissa’s tangled feelings of what she wants, and who she is. I feel that she truly needs both of them in her life to be happy. They both complete different parts of her, and the times when all three were friends were some of the best moments of her life. It may seem like the easy way out of an answer, but I really don’t see any better alternative. For the sake of imagery, I will divide Clarissa into two: “Clareter” and “Clarichard.” Assuming she must choose one of the men to marry, she will essentially be killing half of her soul. That may seem drastic, but it represents my view that she needs both of them to stabilize her. Another way to look at it would be to place the three of them on a scale. If you were to remove one of the guys (the one she doesn’t marry” the scale will tilt toward her husband’s views and life, until they fall off. This fall marks the point of no return”—when she is too set in that lifestyle to recover and be complete once again. I think that is what has happened to Clarissa in Mrs. Dalloway.  She is fully centered in Clarichard mode, so life throws her a curveball with Peter’s reappearance. She is too far gone to hope for a return to when Peter was a part of her as well, she can only think back fondly of times when she was more content. His appearance is sad to me, since it is just too late to change anything. Clareter is shriveled up in the attic of her soul, so all that remains is regret that things had to turn out as they did.

A situation that has Clarissa staying with both men is beneficial to them as well, although in different ways. For Peter, Clarissa is life. With her, he is emotional, active, excited. He is living. When she chooses Richard, his life is changed forever. Richard’s adoration of Clarissa is not necessarily any less that Peter’s, but it is definitely shown in a different way. He had trouble portraying his love to her, the husband who just does what he assumes his role requires of him. Getting flowers for her is a nice action, but as we know, the flowers represented something he couldn’t say in words. I think that Clarissa is a stabilizing factor in Peter and Richard’s live, just as they are to her. Richard is definitely less reliant on her than she on him, but she obviously matters a great deal to him, so she should be in his life. If the three of them were to maintain a strong friendship throughout their lives, Clarissa would be truly content. Peter would help her stay carefree and fun-loving, not neglecting some things to achieve others. Richard would keep her realistic, not getting strung along by Peter’s wild plans for the future. I see this situation as a rubber band with Peter and Richard on the ends, and Clarissa in the middle, every time one of the men pulls her too far in one direction, the other end counteracts this effect so that Clarissa remains in tune with both sides of her, even if she doesn’t consciously recognize why she needs both of them. The only problem with this rubber band representation is that is has Peter and Richard competing to pull Clarissa towards themselves. In reality, I think that each tug of the rubber band would pull her in a positive direction, so that she is constantly moving forward with the help of Peter and Richard.

(Sorry for the randomness, I didn’t plan all this out when I started writing)

First impression of The Hours

I really admire this movie. The plot(s) seem(s) to be well crafted, the characters are very dimensional, and the acting is great. However, it just isnt my kind of movie. Too dark, maybe-- I'm not exactly sure, but I don't enjoy it as much as other movies. This does not stop me from being very engrossed in it, though. I find it extremely intriguing how the writers tie in the characters in Mrs. Dalloway with those in the movie. There are no clear crossovers (no one "Richard", no "Clarissa", no "Sally"), but instead we are presented with complex blends of those characters. As I watch in class, I find myself striving to identify who's traits show up where in the movie, and how everyone interacts.
For me, the most interesting part of the movie is the section in Los Angeles, 1950s. This is because it is the part I understand least. In general, movies where the main characters are crazy do not appeal to me, so I think I like this part because the woman seems like a lunatic at times, and perfectly sane at others. (Also, her son is just incredibly cute.) As I sit in class watching them interact with each other and others, I find myself having trouble predicting what will happen next. I can generally tell when something good/bad will happen in the other parts of the film, but this part is beyond me. I can only sit and helplessly observe as the mom does something really creepy and the son looks on, fearful.
So, while I don't particularly enjoy the movie as a whole, I am still interested in it because it does seem to be a great work of art.

My interpretation of Clarissa

My classmate Joey Smith recently made the controversial statement that Clarissa Dalloway is a whiny person. He then made the argument that she could be a very intune person, and not whiny at all. I think that with these two possibilities, Joey presents a very interesting debate. I presonally feel that while Clarissa is not a whiny person by nature, she comes across as slightly petty in some cases. I felt a stab of annoyance towards her when she complained about Bradshaw mentioning suicide at her party. Seriously, Clarissa, no one's gonna think less of you because a doctor mentioned one of his patients at your party! In fact, I doubt more than a couple of people would have even heard him! For someone who goes to all that trouble, she seems pretty unhappy during the party itself. While this side of Clarissa is presented as a frantic hostess wanting everything to be perfect, I read it in a tone that suggested she was subconsciously whining about the fact that the only way she participatess in the social scene is through these parties.
The part of Clarissa that keeps thinking about the past, however, does not strike me as whiny. She doesn't blame anyone for how her life developed, she doesn't fervently  regret anything. She just wonders. As we discussed a while ago in class, I feel that "just wondering" is a perfectly innocent act, and she cannot be condemned for it.
However, I don't think Clarissa is ever a very positive character. She focuses too much on the past, and is preoccupied with what could go wrong. While she "loves life", she does not, in my opinion, experience the present enough to be called positive.

Farewell Septimus

It was hard for me to find a topic for this post. The last couple of readings have certainly been interesting to me, and are very worthy of posts, but I havent been able to get into any particular scene of the book. My thoughts have been random and fleeting, so one minute I will be focused on Richard's relationship with Hugh, the next with Elizabeth Dalloway. To resolve my problem, I gave my copy of the novel to my brother and told him to pick a scene between pages 90 and 150. He ended up picking a topic that interests me greatly-- Septimus' death.
The main reason that I am so intrigued by the section leading up to his plummet is that it stimulates such a wide range of emotions in me, among them confusion. On page 138, I am drawn in the Rezia and her husband having what could pass as a normal conversation between a married couple. He inquires about the hat she is making, and asks about Mrs. Peters. Shortly after, I (with Rezia) am ecstatic at the possibility of Septimus recovering when he jokes about her wearing the hat, and plays around with its design. While this scene holds signs of remaining insanity (Why is this hat so important to Septimus?) it certainly encourages the hope that Rezia and he might someday have a happy marriage once more. Without transition, Septimus is once again plunged into the depths of his unstable mind, leaving us wishing for more. We are taken into his mind as Holmes enters the house and comes up the stairs. Septimus' thoughts are so random and fleeting that I find it nearly impossible to follow his logic and behavior. It seems like he is happily designing a hat one moment; the next he is throwing himself heroically out the window.
This passage is quite jarring for my emotions. I had to reread it several times before i came to grasps with the fact that yes, he is dead. Woolf's way of switching tone spontaneously impresses me and toys with me. Nevertheless, I think she did Septimus justice with this final scene.

Clarissa Dalloway and Society

I feel as if Clarissa Dalloway is a very tragic character. I don't know the formal literary definition of "tragic", but she certainly appeals to my sympathetic side, and I feel as if she is not content with her life, even if she tries to convince herself otherwise. This is shown through her relationships with other people.
First, Sally Seton. Clarissa admires Sally a lot (at least young Sally), chiefly because of her free spirit. The reason Clarissa is so attracted to this is because she wishes she could be that way as well, but is too focused on being "successful". I refrain from defining successful, because Hugh Whitbread's success is much different from what Sally considered success 30 years ago. I feel as if Clarissa is held down by what other people think. She puts her own pleasure behind other people viewing her with respect. (A silly idea to me, since how does she know what theyll think?) I think that Clarissa has also managed to convince herself that she does take pleasure in keeping her hair up and being respectable, but deep down, reminisces nostalgically about her time with Sally, wishing that she could be in a relationship like that again--that is, one in which she can let her hair down through someone else.
With Richard Dalloway, that is impossible. He, too, is trapped in the pretentious world of the London upper-class, although he may actually enjoy it (as he is in a position of power and seems to be cut from a different fabric than Clarissa). Clarissa, of course is attracted to him. He represents everything she aspires to be associated with. I won't get into my personal philosophies, but I feel for Clarissa because she doesn't realize that being a snob is not the only way to get respect.
Of course, she does have Hugh as an example. The Admirable Hugh is one of those "perfect humans" with the possible exception of being chubby. When Clarissa sees Hugh, she forgets any doubts she might have had about taking a different path. He is the epitome of respectable. All those in power idolize him; who cares that Peter dislikes him-- the opinions or laypeople hardly matter!
Which bring us to Peter Walsh. The big What If of Clarissa's life. He represents the other path-- the carefree path, living his life for himself, not others. Of course, she looks upon Peter with disdain now, but still imagines an alternate life with him.
My base argument is that Clarissa has very conflicting thoughts deep inside her, and when she was forced to make a final decision, she could not be completely happy with either outcome. For her, the choice was between control over her own life, or having to continually check herself to make sure her actions fit what was "respectable" to the upper class. For this reason, Mrs. Dalloway strikes me as a very tragic character.

Aurelius vs Howie

To me, it seems obvious why Howie is so avaggrated by Aurelius' thoughts regarding mortality--specifically, that life is quite trivial. Howie's reaction, a common expression of emotion from him, is expected because by now we have realized how important life's trivialities are to him. For Howie, trivialities dont exist-- each little observation one makes can be explored in great detail, until it seems as important as a Law of Science or an "eleventh commandment". For Aurelius to imply that life doesn't really matter serves as an attack on Howie's outlook on the world: everything matters.
Of course, no one wants to hear that in the long run, they don't really matter. The statement could spark a serious philosophical debate on the meaning of life, but Howie has a more personal reason to be opposed to Aurelius' writings. No wonder he had stopped reading the last time! Aurelius had just insulted the very things that Howie enjoys the most in his otherwise inconspicuous life.
Without ever actually mentioning these things (namely, those occurences and objects that, when examined in detail, prove both contemplative and impressive), Aurelius manages to offend Howie. By using the word "trivial" he means to say that not much really matters in life. However, Howie approaches the world from a very individual point of view. He doesn't care how the world will remember him, he just loves examining his surroundings for all they are worth. Of course these things matter! Why else would he care so much? Even if no one else cared about the milk carton or whether or not to ask for a bag when buying shoelaces from CVS, they still arent trivial! The very fact that Howie takes these two things seriously makes them quite untrivial, in fact.
For me, the main difference between Howie and Aurelius is how they view the world. While Aurelius attempts to look at life from an outsider's perspective, Howie is very much a part of his world, and his philosophy recognizes this fact by treating everything with importance.