Over the course of the book, we've all had time to develop our opinion on what Paul D's place is in the novel. He comes into play early on, and is a symbol of Sethe's past. He charms her and they rekindle their love, all while Denver is eyeing him menacingly from the sidelines. At first we thought this was just Denver's jealousy kicking in--she felt as though Paul D was replacing her in her mother's life. Upon Beloved's arrival, however, Paul D develops a dislike towards the reincarnation of Sethe's daughter. This cycle of jealousy and unrest makes for a very tense situation, and one could argue that this "family" dynamic is doomed to fail. Sure enough, Paul D abandons Sethe upon learning the truth about what happened that day in the woodshed, proving his general flakyness.
At first, I sympathized with Paul D. His reaction is justified, and I'm pretty sure that if any of us were in his shoes, we'd react the same way. However, I then had to consider where he stands in Sethe's life. As it was mentioned upon his arrival, he is a ladies man, and his presence can make even the toughest of women break down in front of him. This explains how intimate he and Sethe get when they see each other, but Paul D should understand that his comforter responsibilities don't stop at sex. When Sethe reveals the murder of her daughter from her perspective, she is hoping he will understand where she is coming from. At this point in their relationship, she isn't ashamed of her past when she is around him. However, Paul D is terrified and flees to the local church. It is at this point that I began questioning Paul D's character. It seems to me that, as much as he enjoys wooing all the women he encounters, he is not ready for the emotional consequences that come alongside the benefits. While his initial reaction is a given, I think it's about time that he return home and make things right with Sethe, or just leave the whole situation altogether.
Meanwhile, Stamp Paid is hitting himself over the head for revealing this to Paul D. He starts to think that he's meddling, and he just managed to ruin a relationship. While he did, I don't think it's entirely his fault. He didn't have any way of knowing that Paul D would react the way he did. Taking this into account, we can see that Paul D's presence in this town is affecting multiple characters in a negative way. Sethe, Denver, Paul D, and Beloved are all unnerved by his presence. While it is apparent that he doesn't mean any harm, I think his time has passed. Personally, I see Beloved's entrance into the novel a symbolism of a future and fresh start. Paul D, on the other hand, represents Sethe's past. While he tries to establish a promising future with her, it is clear that he is maybe pushing for the impossible.
Monday, December 15, 2014
Saturday, December 13, 2014
The Four Horsemen & Racism
The chapter of the four horsemen was important in it gave the audience an inside look into the complex minds of southern whites. Not only was the imagery and mentality disturbing, but I also think Morrison was making a valid point in terms of the thought process of racists. Namely, the minds of modern-day whites who think they are progressive, but still retain their racist instincts. The reactions of the schoolteacher, nephew, slave catcher, and sheriff are all rash examples of the racism that exists today.
For starters, schoolteacher sees this whole situation as a disappointment. Based on what we learned about him so far, it is apparent that he plans on exploiting blacks to their full potential. However, upon seeing Sethe perform an unexplainable act, he sees his investment dwindling and knows that this isn't a good day. He goes on to recall the punishment he gave his other nephew. For beating Sethe too harshly, schoolteacher sees it fit that his nephew learns his lesson. He compares the slave woman to their animals in a very casual manner, and "made him stay there, feed stock, feed himself, feed Lillian, tend the crops. See how he liked it" (176). A shock to modern day readers, Morrison presents this as a perfectly reasonable decision in schoolteacher's mind. He represents society's general racism towards black people. In his mind, this is just the way the world is. Even though this book wasn't published until the late 20th century, schoolteacher's role is meant to serve as a reminder of the racism that is still present in the minds of white people; if not to this extent.
At the same time, the nephew is describing his total shock regarding the situation. He is bewildered as to what exactly Sethe's reasoning was for murdering her baby. "What she go and do that for? On account of a beating? Hell, he'd been beat a million times and he was white" (176). The fact that he mentions his race is an interesting twist. On one hand, he is saying that he has had his fair share of beatings, despite his being white. Therefore, he doesn't understand why this person in particular responded to discipline so drastically. On the other hand, he doesn't really seem to understand the luxury he has for being white. While Sethe realizes that there is no way out of this life, a point so strong that she murders her child for it, the nephew just sees beatings as a punishment. I would say that here, Morrison is using the nephew to represent the whites that think they can relate to the hardships of black people, but obviously can't. It's not fair of the nephew to relate himself to Sethe on this level, but continue to treat her as sub-human
I think this is a very pertinent topic for today, especially with all the chaos regarding Ferguson and white on black crime. Even a century after these mentalities were mainstream, we can't say racism has been discarded completely. I'm not sure what this says about our future, but I think this was a very wise point to make on Morrison's part. By showing us the minds of racists, it makes us question the fundamental values our society has been built on.
For starters, schoolteacher sees this whole situation as a disappointment. Based on what we learned about him so far, it is apparent that he plans on exploiting blacks to their full potential. However, upon seeing Sethe perform an unexplainable act, he sees his investment dwindling and knows that this isn't a good day. He goes on to recall the punishment he gave his other nephew. For beating Sethe too harshly, schoolteacher sees it fit that his nephew learns his lesson. He compares the slave woman to their animals in a very casual manner, and "made him stay there, feed stock, feed himself, feed Lillian, tend the crops. See how he liked it" (176). A shock to modern day readers, Morrison presents this as a perfectly reasonable decision in schoolteacher's mind. He represents society's general racism towards black people. In his mind, this is just the way the world is. Even though this book wasn't published until the late 20th century, schoolteacher's role is meant to serve as a reminder of the racism that is still present in the minds of white people; if not to this extent.
At the same time, the nephew is describing his total shock regarding the situation. He is bewildered as to what exactly Sethe's reasoning was for murdering her baby. "What she go and do that for? On account of a beating? Hell, he'd been beat a million times and he was white" (176). The fact that he mentions his race is an interesting twist. On one hand, he is saying that he has had his fair share of beatings, despite his being white. Therefore, he doesn't understand why this person in particular responded to discipline so drastically. On the other hand, he doesn't really seem to understand the luxury he has for being white. While Sethe realizes that there is no way out of this life, a point so strong that she murders her child for it, the nephew just sees beatings as a punishment. I would say that here, Morrison is using the nephew to represent the whites that think they can relate to the hardships of black people, but obviously can't. It's not fair of the nephew to relate himself to Sethe on this level, but continue to treat her as sub-human
I think this is a very pertinent topic for today, especially with all the chaos regarding Ferguson and white on black crime. Even a century after these mentalities were mainstream, we can't say racism has been discarded completely. I'm not sure what this says about our future, but I think this was a very wise point to make on Morrison's part. By showing us the minds of racists, it makes us question the fundamental values our society has been built on.
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Denver the Sheltered Child
So far in Beloved, we seem to have come to the consensus that Denver is a very sheltered child. We learn that she has no friends, and her favorite spot to pass time is a patch of trees in her backyard. Though Sethe means well, I began to question whether her lengthy precautions were a necessity. From the start of the book we know 124 as being "spiteful," and all those who walk past it are overcome with a feeling of immense sadness. As a result, Denver does't have any friends who want to come over. Though Denver seems to be a relatively normal child when presented in the context of the house, it is soon apparent that she has unresolved issues within her.
In the novel, Denver is portrayed as a particularly possessive and lonely character. For starters, the idea of a time before she came into this world makes her very uneasy. This is why Paul D's appearance into their life angers Denver. She sees that they share a bond from the past she can't match, and he becomes an important part of Sethe's life. Thus, Denver is protective of Sethe. Once Beloved comes into the picture, Denver also can't separate herself from her. This clingy behavior is probably the outcome of the loneliness she has had to endure for a majority of her life. Interestingly, Denver favors Beloved's presence but is wary of Paul D. This is because Paul D represents the past, and while he has come back from a second round at the future, it is Beloved's turn. Additionally, her brothers abandoned her nearly a decade ago, and Denver is now Sethe's only remaining child. This predicament is what causes Denver to be so unnerved when it comes to human relations.
One thing this dynamic made me question was if this was a wise decision on Sethe's part. We learn that the concept of rememory is very important to Sethe. In this world, one can hear or stumble upon someone else's memories and remember them as their own. Considering her hard past, it is understandable why she wouldn't want to open up to Denver about these parts of her life. Sethe has lost so much in her life, and the memories are her only connection. The saying that the deceased "live on in our memories" is very applicable here. However, maybe Sethe doesn't want to share her memories. Instead of hurting Denver, she is worried Denver won't be able to appreciate her memories to the same extent Sethe endured them. We see an example of this when Sethe tells Paul D the story of her milk being stolen. She is frantically trying to make him understand the extent of her violation, but Paul D doesn't really get it. It is maybe at this point that Sethe realizes that the idea of rememory is something she should stray from, supporting her denial that Beloved is the reincarnation of her lost child.
Overall, I guess I'm just confused about where Sethe is coming from. I understand why she has sheltered Denver the way she did, but I wonder if this has some repercussions that may impact the plot later on. By not being taught her mother's, and country's, past, Denver may not be ready to face the world. I feel it's possible that her character may play a turning role later on in the novel.
In the novel, Denver is portrayed as a particularly possessive and lonely character. For starters, the idea of a time before she came into this world makes her very uneasy. This is why Paul D's appearance into their life angers Denver. She sees that they share a bond from the past she can't match, and he becomes an important part of Sethe's life. Thus, Denver is protective of Sethe. Once Beloved comes into the picture, Denver also can't separate herself from her. This clingy behavior is probably the outcome of the loneliness she has had to endure for a majority of her life. Interestingly, Denver favors Beloved's presence but is wary of Paul D. This is because Paul D represents the past, and while he has come back from a second round at the future, it is Beloved's turn. Additionally, her brothers abandoned her nearly a decade ago, and Denver is now Sethe's only remaining child. This predicament is what causes Denver to be so unnerved when it comes to human relations.
One thing this dynamic made me question was if this was a wise decision on Sethe's part. We learn that the concept of rememory is very important to Sethe. In this world, one can hear or stumble upon someone else's memories and remember them as their own. Considering her hard past, it is understandable why she wouldn't want to open up to Denver about these parts of her life. Sethe has lost so much in her life, and the memories are her only connection. The saying that the deceased "live on in our memories" is very applicable here. However, maybe Sethe doesn't want to share her memories. Instead of hurting Denver, she is worried Denver won't be able to appreciate her memories to the same extent Sethe endured them. We see an example of this when Sethe tells Paul D the story of her milk being stolen. She is frantically trying to make him understand the extent of her violation, but Paul D doesn't really get it. It is maybe at this point that Sethe realizes that the idea of rememory is something she should stray from, supporting her denial that Beloved is the reincarnation of her lost child.
Overall, I guess I'm just confused about where Sethe is coming from. I understand why she has sheltered Denver the way she did, but I wonder if this has some repercussions that may impact the plot later on. By not being taught her mother's, and country's, past, Denver may not be ready to face the world. I feel it's possible that her character may play a turning role later on in the novel.
Friday, November 14, 2014
Is Gunnar Kaufman a Minstrel?
As of Monday, we will have finished reading the The White Boy Shuffle. I thought I would take this time to summarize what my thoughts about the book, namely the minstrel dynamic I noticed throughout. He starts off as a smart, yet still pretty naïve child, and over the course of the book we see him realize his "purpose" in life. No matter what he does, white people are always there to look at him in awe. They fail to see him as an individual, and prefer categorizing him as a black person and leaving it at that. The first chapter of the book shows us the history of Gunnar's ancestors, all who are portrayed in an eerily minstrel light. Gunnar takes this as a guide to how to not behave. However, on several instances in the beginning and more constantly later on, Gunnar starts to realize his unintentional minstrelsy.
Gunnar's upbringing is an interesting one, probably not one other kids have. He is a black boy growing up in a white, relatively accepting society, though he is still seen as "different." He is dubbed the "funny, cool black guy," already a sign of his disconnection from his white peers. He is invited to parties, but in class we mentioned that this may just be the kids wanting a "black guy," not necessarily Gunnar Kaufman. At this point, while he kind of realizes his difference, he simply sees himself in the position he's assigned. It's not until he moves to Hillside that he begins to realize his life in Santa Monica was almost a surreal one. He soon makes black friends and becomes a basketball star. While his innate talent helps him rise to popularity, he starts noticing that he is seen as more of a "basketball machine" than an individual by the white coaches and fans. His final performance at Hillside shows us what he's learned--he comes out in black face and even makes a point of sitting down on his old school's bench.
By the time he gets to college, he's started to more fully understand where he stands in society. He is a pretty well-known poet, and he realizes that whatever he does, his fans idolize him. Even upon taking off all his clothes in public and parading down the street, police officers don't arrest him because of his poetic credibility. This makes Gunnar realize that whatever he does, people will judge him for what they portray him as, not for who he actually is. I think this is the cause for his outlook on life. He doesn't really care so much about pleasing his white audience, per say. Rather, he does the exact opposite of what he would assume they would want to see. His acting this way, though, and realizing it has no effect on the crowds' delightedness, makes me realize that he really is a minstrel figure, despite his unwillingness to be one. It's almost as if the white people see him as "something different," and even if they try to be extremely accepting, they are subconsciously incapable of viewing him as anything other than a performer.
Gunnar's upbringing is an interesting one, probably not one other kids have. He is a black boy growing up in a white, relatively accepting society, though he is still seen as "different." He is dubbed the "funny, cool black guy," already a sign of his disconnection from his white peers. He is invited to parties, but in class we mentioned that this may just be the kids wanting a "black guy," not necessarily Gunnar Kaufman. At this point, while he kind of realizes his difference, he simply sees himself in the position he's assigned. It's not until he moves to Hillside that he begins to realize his life in Santa Monica was almost a surreal one. He soon makes black friends and becomes a basketball star. While his innate talent helps him rise to popularity, he starts noticing that he is seen as more of a "basketball machine" than an individual by the white coaches and fans. His final performance at Hillside shows us what he's learned--he comes out in black face and even makes a point of sitting down on his old school's bench.
By the time he gets to college, he's started to more fully understand where he stands in society. He is a pretty well-known poet, and he realizes that whatever he does, his fans idolize him. Even upon taking off all his clothes in public and parading down the street, police officers don't arrest him because of his poetic credibility. This makes Gunnar realize that whatever he does, people will judge him for what they portray him as, not for who he actually is. I think this is the cause for his outlook on life. He doesn't really care so much about pleasing his white audience, per say. Rather, he does the exact opposite of what he would assume they would want to see. His acting this way, though, and realizing it has no effect on the crowds' delightedness, makes me realize that he really is a minstrel figure, despite his unwillingness to be one. It's almost as if the white people see him as "something different," and even if they try to be extremely accepting, they are subconsciously incapable of viewing him as anything other than a performer.
Monday, November 10, 2014
The White Boy Shuffle
Chapter 4 was an especially pivotal point in the novel. We see Gunnar transition from being the "whitest black kid in town" to discovering his innate basketball talent and joining a gang, among other milestones. One thing we considered in class today was the symbolism of this new assimilation, and what kind of theme Beatty is going for--it is definitely no longer the realism Richard Wright presented in Native Son. I think we all came to the general consensus that Scoby is Gunnar's portal to the rest of his life.
The first big thing that was Gunnar's gateway to social accommodation was when Nick Scoby called him the n-word. An interestingly pivotal point in the novel, Gunnar took this as a compliment and sign of acceptance rather than an insult. Even though he was the same color as the people of Hillside, he felt like a total outsider before this moment. It was as if Scoby was saying yes, you are black enough. Gunnar's newfound friendship with Scoby is a fruitful one--within this chapter we see him blossom from a nerdy misfit to one of the most popular kids in town. I think it would only be fair to credit Scoby with this growth.
In this chapter, we noticed that everything seems to be linked in a chain of events. Soon after Gunnar befriends Scoby and realizes he is a pretty cool yet intellectual guy, the class sets off to the Shakespeare competition. This scene is pivotal in that it is the first (and so far only) time we've seen Gunnar be superior to Scoby. Here, we see him sacrifice his attempt at winning the competition for making a simple, yet powerful, point. Scoby is in awe, and later that day on the bus ride home he calls him a "crazy n-----" and invites him to play basketball. When Gunnar picks up the sport and is automatically a basketball prodigy, I couldn't help but wonder if this had some racial connotations. I also found it interesting that, as we see becomes a trend in the book, Scoby is the one who, in a way, christened him into the sport.
However, just as he commits a jaw-dropping slam dunk and gets his spankings for doing so, he heads off to class where he has an epitome that his poetry is still an important part of him. I like Gunnar so far because it seems like both poetry and basketball play an important role in his life, and he hasn't dropped his "nerdier" poetry skill in an attempt to being a more macho basketball player. On the contrary, I don't think Gunnar has found himself yet. He mentions several times that he doesn't even really like basketball--he just does it because he's good at it. I suppose this leads me to wonder what exactly Paul Beatty's intentions with crafting this character are. So far, Gunnar doesn't seem to possess the typical "black boy" mentality. Also, he is found to be ironically bad at dancing, inspiring the white boy shuffle Beatty named this book after and hinting at the bigger theme of this story.
The first big thing that was Gunnar's gateway to social accommodation was when Nick Scoby called him the n-word. An interestingly pivotal point in the novel, Gunnar took this as a compliment and sign of acceptance rather than an insult. Even though he was the same color as the people of Hillside, he felt like a total outsider before this moment. It was as if Scoby was saying yes, you are black enough. Gunnar's newfound friendship with Scoby is a fruitful one--within this chapter we see him blossom from a nerdy misfit to one of the most popular kids in town. I think it would only be fair to credit Scoby with this growth.
In this chapter, we noticed that everything seems to be linked in a chain of events. Soon after Gunnar befriends Scoby and realizes he is a pretty cool yet intellectual guy, the class sets off to the Shakespeare competition. This scene is pivotal in that it is the first (and so far only) time we've seen Gunnar be superior to Scoby. Here, we see him sacrifice his attempt at winning the competition for making a simple, yet powerful, point. Scoby is in awe, and later that day on the bus ride home he calls him a "crazy n-----" and invites him to play basketball. When Gunnar picks up the sport and is automatically a basketball prodigy, I couldn't help but wonder if this had some racial connotations. I also found it interesting that, as we see becomes a trend in the book, Scoby is the one who, in a way, christened him into the sport.
However, just as he commits a jaw-dropping slam dunk and gets his spankings for doing so, he heads off to class where he has an epitome that his poetry is still an important part of him. I like Gunnar so far because it seems like both poetry and basketball play an important role in his life, and he hasn't dropped his "nerdier" poetry skill in an attempt to being a more macho basketball player. On the contrary, I don't think Gunnar has found himself yet. He mentions several times that he doesn't even really like basketball--he just does it because he's good at it. I suppose this leads me to wonder what exactly Paul Beatty's intentions with crafting this character are. So far, Gunnar doesn't seem to possess the typical "black boy" mentality. Also, he is found to be ironically bad at dancing, inspiring the white boy shuffle Beatty named this book after and hinting at the bigger theme of this story.
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
Challenging Racism
In response to today's movie night, I thought I would write a blog post addressing how racism is still prevalent today. However, I've noticed that the criticism of all things remotely racist probably isn't the way to go, either. While overexposure of racist occurrences succeeds in criticizing them for the time being, it also makes racism a commonly talked about topic, which I'm not sure is a good thing. This topic has succeeded in thoroughly confusing me, but here is my take on it.
Upon watching the documentary, I learned that a few of my innocent childhood memories have racial roots. I found this quite unsettling, as even the seemingly nonsense "eenie-menie-miney-moe" has chain gang connotations. I also found it interesting that while this is definitely something that has an uneasy past, I don't think we're going to drop the phrase anytime soon. The meaning has obviously been reduced to a game of random selection, and I feel like the main connection people have with this phrase is simply a reminder of their younger years. I wondered if alienating the phrase altogether would make it less of a problem, "one less thing to worry about," so to speak, but I've decided that doing so may simply cause more harm than good. Similar to the controversy over cuss words (namely the n-word), I feel like "banning" something intangible can potentially cause it to carry more weight than it originally did. There is something about labeling something as taboo that makes it even more taboo, if that makes sense.
While I do agree that we have come a long way over the past century, I feel like it would be colorblind to assume that racism doesn't exist today. I've found that anywhere I turn, one form or another of racism can be found. In the documentary, we witnessed black people performing in minstrel shows, degrading their race and further enforcing their stereotype. Reflecting on modern day entertainment, one example I forgot to mention in class is Key & Peele. While I and millions of other viewers have watched their videos and found them rather entertaining, this class has made me rethink the concept of their videos. From portraying contemporary black people to recreating slave auctions, they have risen to fame by using race as their main punchline. On one hand, this reminds me of minstrelsy, but on the other I wonder if I'm over thinking it. In today's society, calling this racist would be considered racist, in the way that constantly bringing up racism is unnecessary. This leads me to concept of colorblindness, as introduced to us in The White Boy Shuffle, and whether trying to achieve it is ideal.
As we exhausted in class today, shows like The Suite Life of Zack and Cody portray a rainbow of characters each with very specific anti-stereotypes. The Asian girl is the dumb and rich, the white girl is smart but poor, and the overseer of all of this is a well kept black man. This made me wonder whether blatantly flipping the racial roles is a good idea or not. I feel like it is definitely a much better alternative to satisfying the stereotypes, but this seemingly purposeful portrayal can cause some people to question its legitimacy. Meaning, is Disney Channel trying a little too hard to get as racially diverse as possible. This made me realize that colorblindness in society is basically unachievable (much to the disgrace of Gunnar's teacher), yet constantly challenging the racial aspects of everything isn't helping things, either. In conclusion, I'm not exactly sure what a probable ideal is, and whether we will see it anytime soon. I definitely think people are trying, though I wonder what the world will look like a century from now.
Upon watching the documentary, I learned that a few of my innocent childhood memories have racial roots. I found this quite unsettling, as even the seemingly nonsense "eenie-menie-miney-moe" has chain gang connotations. I also found it interesting that while this is definitely something that has an uneasy past, I don't think we're going to drop the phrase anytime soon. The meaning has obviously been reduced to a game of random selection, and I feel like the main connection people have with this phrase is simply a reminder of their younger years. I wondered if alienating the phrase altogether would make it less of a problem, "one less thing to worry about," so to speak, but I've decided that doing so may simply cause more harm than good. Similar to the controversy over cuss words (namely the n-word), I feel like "banning" something intangible can potentially cause it to carry more weight than it originally did. There is something about labeling something as taboo that makes it even more taboo, if that makes sense.
While I do agree that we have come a long way over the past century, I feel like it would be colorblind to assume that racism doesn't exist today. I've found that anywhere I turn, one form or another of racism can be found. In the documentary, we witnessed black people performing in minstrel shows, degrading their race and further enforcing their stereotype. Reflecting on modern day entertainment, one example I forgot to mention in class is Key & Peele. While I and millions of other viewers have watched their videos and found them rather entertaining, this class has made me rethink the concept of their videos. From portraying contemporary black people to recreating slave auctions, they have risen to fame by using race as their main punchline. On one hand, this reminds me of minstrelsy, but on the other I wonder if I'm over thinking it. In today's society, calling this racist would be considered racist, in the way that constantly bringing up racism is unnecessary. This leads me to concept of colorblindness, as introduced to us in The White Boy Shuffle, and whether trying to achieve it is ideal.
As we exhausted in class today, shows like The Suite Life of Zack and Cody portray a rainbow of characters each with very specific anti-stereotypes. The Asian girl is the dumb and rich, the white girl is smart but poor, and the overseer of all of this is a well kept black man. This made me wonder whether blatantly flipping the racial roles is a good idea or not. I feel like it is definitely a much better alternative to satisfying the stereotypes, but this seemingly purposeful portrayal can cause some people to question its legitimacy. Meaning, is Disney Channel trying a little too hard to get as racially diverse as possible. This made me realize that colorblindness in society is basically unachievable (much to the disgrace of Gunnar's teacher), yet constantly challenging the racial aspects of everything isn't helping things, either. In conclusion, I'm not exactly sure what a probable ideal is, and whether we will see it anytime soon. I definitely think people are trying, though I wonder what the world will look like a century from now.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
Logan and Joe
Today in class we talked about Janie's first two relationships--Logan Killicks and Joe Starks. I think it's safe to say that both men are pretty crappy husbands, but I was hesitant to side with Janie.
First off, we mentioned how Janie may just be too lofty to appreciate either of her men. However, if I were in her shoes I don't think I'd be enjoying myself either. One thing I found interesting, though, was that while they were both pretty bad, the way she handled them may have factored in to her misery. During her short marriage with Logan, once all the frill and poetry is gone, he really starts expecting her to actually help out on their farm. While Janie is taken aback at being used to shovel manure, we have to remember that this was the norm during these times. When a couple owned a farm, both were expected to contribute. She soon leaves him rather quickly for the seemingly magnificent Joe Starks. However, it soon becomes apparent that he is much worse than Logan. While Logan was just complaining about her laziness and incompetence, Joe takes their 20 years of marriage to psychologically deteriorate her. Making her conceal her hair in an insecure attempt at controlling her, he also repeatedly belittles her to the helpless mayor's wife position. Later, near the end of his life when they are both showing signs of age, he takes out his insecurities onto her, calling her old and wrinkly when he isn't much better. Additionally, his buying the mule that one time may have seemed heroic in the moment, but in the grand scheme of things he is really quite abusive.
Still, their actions alone weren't enough for me to side with Janie. One thing that particularly bothered me was how freely she moved on from both of them. Considering how traumatic she made her experiences seem, I'd assume that her parting ways with both of them would be a little more dramatic and heartfelt, like a sort of unshackling. However, she just seems to discard both of them without a care in the world, relating back to her pear tree ideals of love. When she ditches Logan, she simply gets up and walks away, not really caring about the way she leaves him. Considering that Logan wasn't as abusive as Joe turned out to be, I still have some sympathy for him. Likewise, when Joe is on death's door, she continues to verbally attack him in an attempt to stand up for all the times he's abused her. I am glad that she's finally taking charge, but quite frankly this doesn't seem like the time. I kinda wanna tell her to pick on someone her own size. When he finally dies, she feels no emotional connection or regret. She is definitely an independent woman who doesn't need a man, but her jumping around from guy to guy this easily makes it harder for me to sympathize with her troubles.
In the end, it is nice to see how happy she feels when she is single, and the power she gets from detachment. However, when she meets Tea Cake and they start having a relationship, I am worried as to how it will end. I'm also curious as to how this book will end, and why we see her returning in muddy overalls in the first chapter.
First off, we mentioned how Janie may just be too lofty to appreciate either of her men. However, if I were in her shoes I don't think I'd be enjoying myself either. One thing I found interesting, though, was that while they were both pretty bad, the way she handled them may have factored in to her misery. During her short marriage with Logan, once all the frill and poetry is gone, he really starts expecting her to actually help out on their farm. While Janie is taken aback at being used to shovel manure, we have to remember that this was the norm during these times. When a couple owned a farm, both were expected to contribute. She soon leaves him rather quickly for the seemingly magnificent Joe Starks. However, it soon becomes apparent that he is much worse than Logan. While Logan was just complaining about her laziness and incompetence, Joe takes their 20 years of marriage to psychologically deteriorate her. Making her conceal her hair in an insecure attempt at controlling her, he also repeatedly belittles her to the helpless mayor's wife position. Later, near the end of his life when they are both showing signs of age, he takes out his insecurities onto her, calling her old and wrinkly when he isn't much better. Additionally, his buying the mule that one time may have seemed heroic in the moment, but in the grand scheme of things he is really quite abusive.
Still, their actions alone weren't enough for me to side with Janie. One thing that particularly bothered me was how freely she moved on from both of them. Considering how traumatic she made her experiences seem, I'd assume that her parting ways with both of them would be a little more dramatic and heartfelt, like a sort of unshackling. However, she just seems to discard both of them without a care in the world, relating back to her pear tree ideals of love. When she ditches Logan, she simply gets up and walks away, not really caring about the way she leaves him. Considering that Logan wasn't as abusive as Joe turned out to be, I still have some sympathy for him. Likewise, when Joe is on death's door, she continues to verbally attack him in an attempt to stand up for all the times he's abused her. I am glad that she's finally taking charge, but quite frankly this doesn't seem like the time. I kinda wanna tell her to pick on someone her own size. When he finally dies, she feels no emotional connection or regret. She is definitely an independent woman who doesn't need a man, but her jumping around from guy to guy this easily makes it harder for me to sympathize with her troubles.
In the end, it is nice to see how happy she feels when she is single, and the power she gets from detachment. However, when she meets Tea Cake and they start having a relationship, I am worried as to how it will end. I'm also curious as to how this book will end, and why we see her returning in muddy overalls in the first chapter.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Janie's Love Life
At the start of the book, we are introduced to Janie as sexy woman who wouldn't give anyone the time of day. Men ogle her, and women envy her. They jealously take in her muddy appearance as a sort of blackmail in a "hope that she might fall to their level some day." However, it is soon apparent that the book will be about Janie, and we start learning more about her as a person. In class today, we touched on how this might affect our opinion of her, and how her delusions of love may have affected the way she is at the start of the novel.
Thanks to the backstory in the following chapter, we can kind of learn why she is the way she is. From her childhood days of pondering love and marriage under a pear tree, we can tell that her promiscuity is in a way no surprise. As mentioned in class, her admiration of the bees pollinating the majestic blossoms leads her to think of love as an ideal. "So this was a marriage!" she thinks dazedly. Monogamy is probably not her main focus--rather, she strives to find the perfect relationship. If she is unsatisfied, it is sure she'll move on. From what we've seen so far, she certainly takes this to heart in her relationships. When Logan Killicks isn't up to her standards, she doesn't even think twice about deserting him in pursuit of something better. However, we soon see that her rushed marriage with that something better, a wealthy entrepreneur by the name of Jack Starks, proves equally disappointing.
While on one hand I feel for her, that the men she has married aren't the men of her dreams, we also have to remember that she rushes into love with extremely high standards, and isn't really preparing herself for a let down. This lets me to wonder if she will ever find her perfect man. She is definitely pretty enough to win any man over, but considering she jumps on the first one available, I'm guessing the likelihood of her landing a dream man is limited. Her excessively high standards also factor in to that, as by that definition no man will ever be the "perfect" man. In her mind, there is always something better out there, and, like the bees of the pear tree, she will move on. At the beginning of the book we learn about Tea Cake, who seems like yet another promising partner, but their relationship is also over by the time she returns to town.
Additionally, we don't know how many men she's had by the time she turns 40 (and is once again single and ready to mingle). The pear tree ideal is really a curse, then, as she sees reality as more of an ideality. She has already turned 40, and considering life in the early 20th century is limited, I believe she's setting her standards a little too high. Personally, I wonder if she will ever get married and and live happily ever after, or if her history of disappointments will keep her from finding true love.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Narrator's Racial Icons
Throughout the novel, we have seen several racial items pop up in the narrator's life. One thing that I found interesting, though, is that while he initially tries to reject them, he ends up just bringing them along in his briefcase. Pretty recently, the narrator has obtained a jolly bank, chain link, and Sambo doll. The parallels between the bank and doll are by themselves quite striking, and we see a certain pattern of events unfold after each.
The black Americana jolly bank the narrator notices in chapter 15 is the first of these events. I don't think his finally noticing it so late into his stay was a coincidence. As we've seen so far, Ellison has a way of making even the most mundane things mean something. I think instead the author tried to depict how the narrator, prior to this scene, was somewhat blind to just how racist the world is. He proceeds to smash the bank--quite an impressive feat, considering it's made of cast iron--and then panicking and putting it in his briefcase to discard later. When he does attempt to dispose of it, however, we see how the racial icon keeps on coming back into his life, and he ultimately leaves it be. As far as we know, he is still carrying it. Besides this clear symbolism of racial stereotypes, Ellison amplifies the situation by making each of his attempted disposals further lowering in status for the narrator. The first time he tries to get rid of it, the woman immediately assumes he's a southern hoodlum. This represents the constant labeling the narrator has endured throughout the book. As a matter of fact, we don't even know him by name--just as a black man trying to make his way through the world.
A little further down the road, we see the narrator acquire Tarp's chain link. As opposed to the bank, however, the narrator accepts this gift for what it is, and is rather protective of it when Westrum starts criticizing it. While Westrum takes the equality beliefs of the Brotherhood a little too seriously--getting upset at the narrator for owning such a thing--the narrator believes this is necessary to understand his history and how the past has shaped the world today. It is better to keep yourself well-rounded, rather than denying all things evil and fabricating a naïve reality, much like Westrum is doing.
Finally, the narrator obtains Clifton's Sambo doll. By now, he has enough racist memorabilia to establish his own museum, but we again see his somewhat unclear motives for holding on to all of this. Initially, the Sambo doll mesmerizes him. The "inanimate, boneless bouncing of the grinning doll" draws him towards Clifton's show before he even notices the puppeteer himself. Once he does, he doesn't know how to feel. On one hand he is enchanted, but in another he is disgusted at the puppet and the fact that the puppet enchanted him in the first place. Doing the most defiant thing he can come up with at the moment, he spits on it. Instead, people start to laugh at him too, thinking he resembles the doll. Not knowing what else to do, he scoops up the doll and puts it in his pocket too, "[dropping] it in the pocket where [he] carried Brother tarp's chain link."
Overall, I certainly don't think Ellison accidentally included all three of these events innocently. I think he was trying to get at the bigger picture of the narrator's life--and life for all african americans of the era--by representing how racial stereotypes have not died down since the abolishment of slavery nearly a century ago. The racial icons that continue to follow him and are seemingly inseparable from him definitely back up Ellison's intentions.
The black Americana jolly bank the narrator notices in chapter 15 is the first of these events. I don't think his finally noticing it so late into his stay was a coincidence. As we've seen so far, Ellison has a way of making even the most mundane things mean something. I think instead the author tried to depict how the narrator, prior to this scene, was somewhat blind to just how racist the world is. He proceeds to smash the bank--quite an impressive feat, considering it's made of cast iron--and then panicking and putting it in his briefcase to discard later. When he does attempt to dispose of it, however, we see how the racial icon keeps on coming back into his life, and he ultimately leaves it be. As far as we know, he is still carrying it. Besides this clear symbolism of racial stereotypes, Ellison amplifies the situation by making each of his attempted disposals further lowering in status for the narrator. The first time he tries to get rid of it, the woman immediately assumes he's a southern hoodlum. This represents the constant labeling the narrator has endured throughout the book. As a matter of fact, we don't even know him by name--just as a black man trying to make his way through the world.
A little further down the road, we see the narrator acquire Tarp's chain link. As opposed to the bank, however, the narrator accepts this gift for what it is, and is rather protective of it when Westrum starts criticizing it. While Westrum takes the equality beliefs of the Brotherhood a little too seriously--getting upset at the narrator for owning such a thing--the narrator believes this is necessary to understand his history and how the past has shaped the world today. It is better to keep yourself well-rounded, rather than denying all things evil and fabricating a naïve reality, much like Westrum is doing.
Finally, the narrator obtains Clifton's Sambo doll. By now, he has enough racist memorabilia to establish his own museum, but we again see his somewhat unclear motives for holding on to all of this. Initially, the Sambo doll mesmerizes him. The "inanimate, boneless bouncing of the grinning doll" draws him towards Clifton's show before he even notices the puppeteer himself. Once he does, he doesn't know how to feel. On one hand he is enchanted, but in another he is disgusted at the puppet and the fact that the puppet enchanted him in the first place. Doing the most defiant thing he can come up with at the moment, he spits on it. Instead, people start to laugh at him too, thinking he resembles the doll. Not knowing what else to do, he scoops up the doll and puts it in his pocket too, "[dropping] it in the pocket where [he] carried Brother tarp's chain link."
Overall, I certainly don't think Ellison accidentally included all three of these events innocently. I think he was trying to get at the bigger picture of the narrator's life--and life for all african americans of the era--by representing how racial stereotypes have not died down since the abolishment of slavery nearly a century ago. The racial icons that continue to follow him and are seemingly inseparable from him definitely back up Ellison's intentions.
Friday, September 19, 2014
Yams Everywhere
The yam scene in Invisible Man was definitely something special. Even though I'm not particularly fond of yams, the way Ellison was describing them made me crave one. The scene also brought up interesting points regarding the narrator's development, and how yams can be used to represent his connection to his roots. We can see how something as simple as a yam can bring him a sense of happiness wherever he goes.
In chapter 13, we see the narrator traversing the snowy city streets of Harlem. This is his first northern winter, and we can see how alien he feels--a southerner in the north. A few steps later, however, the sweet smell of baking yams makes its way to him. He suddenly feels nostalgic and starts reminiscing about his childhood, remembering all the yams he has ever consumed. Eagerly, he purchases one. He sees the "sugary pulp streaming in the cold," and finds it as delicious, if not better, as any yam he's had before.
This scene is powerful in the sense that it presents the yam as a symbol of his southern heritage, a heritage that he now isn't afraid to conceal. In the previous chapters, namely in the diner scene, we see the narrator get very angry and even offended that someone would offer him pork chops and grits, a typical southern meal. Even though the waiter most likely meant no harm, it rubs the narrator the wrong way because he feels like he doesn't have a choice. Throughout the book, we have seen various characters make assumptions about him. He feels like he's being labeled, and doesn't like it. What makes the yam scene striking, then, is the fact that the narrator bought a yam out of his own free will. This gives him a surge of power, and he soon starts cracking jokes and making ironic assumptions about "white folks," much like they have about him this entire time.
I found it interesting that the yams affected him so much, but as soon as the vendor brought up sweet potato fried pies, the narrator lost interest. As we mentioned in class, it probably isn't a coincidence that Ellison chose yams. A yam, which is a root, fittingly represents his southern roots. There is also something about the candor of his love for yams. Unlike how he's been living his life so far, taste isn't something you can fake, and the yams really prove to his one friend in a crowd of strangers. The narrator's realization of this makes him make the comment, "why, you could cause us the greatest humiliation simply by confronting us with something we liked." This shows the growth the narrator has experienced since the beginning of the book. We could say his eyes have been opened, and he is on the path to living amongst his 1,369 lightbulbs.
In chapter 13, we see the narrator traversing the snowy city streets of Harlem. This is his first northern winter, and we can see how alien he feels--a southerner in the north. A few steps later, however, the sweet smell of baking yams makes its way to him. He suddenly feels nostalgic and starts reminiscing about his childhood, remembering all the yams he has ever consumed. Eagerly, he purchases one. He sees the "sugary pulp streaming in the cold," and finds it as delicious, if not better, as any yam he's had before.
This scene is powerful in the sense that it presents the yam as a symbol of his southern heritage, a heritage that he now isn't afraid to conceal. In the previous chapters, namely in the diner scene, we see the narrator get very angry and even offended that someone would offer him pork chops and grits, a typical southern meal. Even though the waiter most likely meant no harm, it rubs the narrator the wrong way because he feels like he doesn't have a choice. Throughout the book, we have seen various characters make assumptions about him. He feels like he's being labeled, and doesn't like it. What makes the yam scene striking, then, is the fact that the narrator bought a yam out of his own free will. This gives him a surge of power, and he soon starts cracking jokes and making ironic assumptions about "white folks," much like they have about him this entire time.
I found it interesting that the yams affected him so much, but as soon as the vendor brought up sweet potato fried pies, the narrator lost interest. As we mentioned in class, it probably isn't a coincidence that Ellison chose yams. A yam, which is a root, fittingly represents his southern roots. There is also something about the candor of his love for yams. Unlike how he's been living his life so far, taste isn't something you can fake, and the yams really prove to his one friend in a crowd of strangers. The narrator's realization of this makes him make the comment, "why, you could cause us the greatest humiliation simply by confronting us with something we liked." This shows the growth the narrator has experienced since the beginning of the book. We could say his eyes have been opened, and he is on the path to living amongst his 1,369 lightbulbs.
Monday, September 15, 2014
Rebirth
Wow, it's really been a while since I posted! We're already about halfway through Invisible Man, although I think it's this point in particular that proves very interesting. We basically see the old narrator get wiped away and be replaced by a more refreshed, free, and invisible man we met in the prologue.
One thing that struck me, though, was the symbolism of the operating room and how it represented his rebirth. Not only does he have no recollection of any past events in his life, but he is also incapable of forming words, the typical characteristics of a newborn baby. Throughout the scene, we can hear background noises that seem eerily like that of a woman in labor. When "the nurse clipped through the belly band and removed the heavy node," one could say this symbolized the cutting of his umbilical cord.
When the narrator leaves the factory hospital, he feels like a new man. His white factory clothes symbolize his newness into the world, and he begins to feel more, if not completely, free. The narrator soon winds up at a kind old woman's house. This woman, Mary, takes him in and tells him to come back if he wishes, saying the rent is low. Over the next few months, Mary acts as a mother figure towards the narrator, figuratively raising the narrator as her own and preparing him for the real world.
As far as being a new man goes, we see the narrator embracing his race much more than he did in the past. While he was working for the college, he avoided and was even embarrassed of his southern upbringing, avoiding stereotypes at all costs. That one time he stopped by a diner before going to work at the paint factory, he took great offense over being offered pork chops and grits, something he considers southern and therefore primitive. After his "rebirth," though, we see him harnessing his culture much more, reverting back to eating yams from street corners and getting more involved in saying what's on his mind regarding racial barriers. This leads him to meet new people, and he soon joins the Brotherhood.
However, the concept of the Brotherhood in relation to the narrator's life throws me off a little. While the narrator sees himself as free, invisible, even, the Brotherhood gives him a sort of belonging that I'm not sure he enjoys. So I guess the question is, even though he has joined to stand up for what he believes in, is this group mentality a good thing for him?
However, the concept of the Brotherhood in relation to the narrator's life throws me off a little. While the narrator sees himself as free, invisible, even, the Brotherhood gives him a sort of belonging that I'm not sure he enjoys. So I guess the question is, even though he has joined to stand up for what he believes in, is this group mentality a good thing for him?
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
The Bigger Picture of Bigger's Story
A fast-paced yet thought-provoking read, Richard Wright's Native Son managed to make some strong points regarding racism. After several days of class discussion, I think it is safe to say that this is a protest novel.
We are plunged into Bigger Thomas' world from the get go. In the first few pages, we witness him wake up in his family's one room apartment, eat breakfast, taunt his sister, then leave for the day a.k.a. go hang out with the gang. It's the way he acts around his gang that really shows us what his life amounts to. We see him joke around with Gus about being a pilot, because that is something he could never be. As Gus puts it, Bigger probably could be a pilot, but only if he had money and wasn't black. We continue to see Bigger's altered perspective on whites versus blacks when the gang tries to plan a robbery. Bigger's gang performs robberies all the time, but when a white owner's store is suggested, Bigger is secretly terrified. Of course, he doesn't dare show his emotions, and tries to turn it around onto Gus for the gang not being able to go.
Soon after this falling out, Bigger heads to the white part of town for a possible job. We see his character change dramatically as soon as he's away from his black pals and is faced with white people. He is painfully timid, his vocabulary diminished to "yessuh" and "no suh." Even though the Daltons consider themselves very liberal and try to make Bigger feel like an equal, he is just too petrified to consider them as anything other than white superiors. While Mr. Dalton is firm yet kind towards Bigger, it is his flamboyant daughter Mary that really rubs Bigger the wrong way. Her brash actions really take him aback, and he is constantly worried about him potentially losing his job because of her. Later on that night, we see that he really took this risk to the next level.
After an awkward night of partying with Jan and Mary, Bigger kills Mary. Her drunken slurs are very uncalled for when her mother enters the room, and Bigger accidentally stifles her to death. Even though this was a total accident, he doesn't even give himself the benefit of the doubt and immediately believes that he's a cold blooded murderer. In his eyes, he is black, and guilty. It's as if he always kind of expected his life to end up this way. It's this kind of mentality that suggests he was brainwashed by society into believing he is inferior. After all, he is underprivileged, uneducated, and black.
Throughout the rest of the book we see him struggle with moral rights and wrongs--mostly wrongs--until he eventually gets caught. In Book Three the action slows, but this is when Wright presents his own opinions through the voice of Max, Bigger's Jewish, communist lawyer. While Max is never really expanded on as a character and doesn't try to prove that Bigger is innocent, he does try to make the court recognize the state of Bigger's environment, and why he is the way he is.
I agree with this depiction of Bigger as a product of his environment. While I don't believe that Bigger's actions can be excused, I definitely think that his upbringing and environment should be taken into account as to why he did the things he did.
We are plunged into Bigger Thomas' world from the get go. In the first few pages, we witness him wake up in his family's one room apartment, eat breakfast, taunt his sister, then leave for the day a.k.a. go hang out with the gang. It's the way he acts around his gang that really shows us what his life amounts to. We see him joke around with Gus about being a pilot, because that is something he could never be. As Gus puts it, Bigger probably could be a pilot, but only if he had money and wasn't black. We continue to see Bigger's altered perspective on whites versus blacks when the gang tries to plan a robbery. Bigger's gang performs robberies all the time, but when a white owner's store is suggested, Bigger is secretly terrified. Of course, he doesn't dare show his emotions, and tries to turn it around onto Gus for the gang not being able to go.
Soon after this falling out, Bigger heads to the white part of town for a possible job. We see his character change dramatically as soon as he's away from his black pals and is faced with white people. He is painfully timid, his vocabulary diminished to "yessuh" and "no suh." Even though the Daltons consider themselves very liberal and try to make Bigger feel like an equal, he is just too petrified to consider them as anything other than white superiors. While Mr. Dalton is firm yet kind towards Bigger, it is his flamboyant daughter Mary that really rubs Bigger the wrong way. Her brash actions really take him aback, and he is constantly worried about him potentially losing his job because of her. Later on that night, we see that he really took this risk to the next level.
After an awkward night of partying with Jan and Mary, Bigger kills Mary. Her drunken slurs are very uncalled for when her mother enters the room, and Bigger accidentally stifles her to death. Even though this was a total accident, he doesn't even give himself the benefit of the doubt and immediately believes that he's a cold blooded murderer. In his eyes, he is black, and guilty. It's as if he always kind of expected his life to end up this way. It's this kind of mentality that suggests he was brainwashed by society into believing he is inferior. After all, he is underprivileged, uneducated, and black.
Throughout the rest of the book we see him struggle with moral rights and wrongs--mostly wrongs--until he eventually gets caught. In Book Three the action slows, but this is when Wright presents his own opinions through the voice of Max, Bigger's Jewish, communist lawyer. While Max is never really expanded on as a character and doesn't try to prove that Bigger is innocent, he does try to make the court recognize the state of Bigger's environment, and why he is the way he is.
I agree with this depiction of Bigger as a product of his environment. While I don't believe that Bigger's actions can be excused, I definitely think that his upbringing and environment should be taken into account as to why he did the things he did.
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