Ain't But Three Deads Alive

Today, we finished reading the book Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison. Quite early in the book, one line that really struck me was when Milkman was meeting Pilate for the first time. Upon asking if she was related to his father, she said, "The only one he got. Ain't but three Deads alive." In this case, she is referring to herself, Reba, and Hagar. But what about Milkman and his family? Are they not Deads too? At this point, I started to wonder if we were in for a plot twist—that Macon Jr. wasn't actually related to Macon Sr.—but by the end of the novel it became clear that Toni Morrison had other intentions.

In fact, death is an recurring theme in this book. Even though the Deads are physically alive and breathing, their suffocated way of life makes them metaphorically dead. Because of this, I think it's no coincidence that their last name is Dead. Off the bat, I could tell that names played an important role in this book. The title, Song of Solomon, is referring to Solomon from the Bible. All the other names seem to be pulled from the Bible, too, including Pilate, First Corinthians, Magdalene called Lena, etc. I suppose it's fitting then that the book takes on a prophetic approach when it comes to Milkman's story. We later learn that the real reason for their last name being "Dead" is the fault of a drunken soldier three generations ago, though it is interesting that the Macons of this family keep the name.

Additionally, flight is a key element of Song of Solomon. The song itself depicts a man taking flight, a man we later learn is Milkman's grandfather. This seems like a liberating moment for Milkman, as he has had the urge to fly since infancy. However, as some people mentioned in class, the term "flight" isn't necessarily a good thing. Though Macon I, or Jake, was departing on an eventful journey, he was also abandoning his family in the process. This relates back to Milkman's issues with flight, especially in his younger years. On the somber weekly family outings, Milkman had to sit backwards. "It was like flying blind, and not knowing where he was going—just where he had been—troubled him." This is a very poignant struggle in Milkman's life, up until the last line of the book. He makes the realization, "if you surrendered to the air, you could ride it." This gives a new meaning to the concept of flight, yet Morrison still leaves it ambiguous.

Finally, family is very important in this novel. Milkman grows up in a wealthy, sheltered environment, disconnected from the rest of society. His family's odd behaviors tarnish him from a young age. His father, a greedy penny-pincher who relishes power, keeps Milkman from developing like a young boy should. On the other hand, his mother, Ruth, is a little too attached by some standards, and nurses him way past the normal age. As a result, Macon III is branded Milkman, a nickname which he carries for the rest of his life. In Part Two of the book, when Milkman travels away from his hometown and into the town of his ancestors, he becomes more attune with himself and those around him.

Overall, the novel can be seen as Milkman's coming of age regarding his family. In order to grow closer to his roots, he actually needs to leave his nuclear family in search of something bigger. In this sense, he is taking flight—the metaphorical flight he has been yearning since birth. He is escaping both towards and away from something, and it becomes a big turning point in his life. Prior to this, he has been a thirty-something-year-old with the mind of a teenager, and it is only after he takes this leap of faith that he matures into a respectable man.

Like Mother, Like Daughter?

From the beginning of Wide Sargasso Sea, Antoinette's mother Annette is described as a very beautiful, yet detached woman of outsider status who eventually goes mad. As the book progressed, I noticed some key similarities between Annette's life and Antoinette's. First off, there's the thing about their names. Even though she is eventually transformed into Bertha, Antoinette is a derivation of Annette. Besides this almost too obvious clue, Antoinette is also an outsider her entire life. Not only does she have to face geographic displacement, like her mother (who is initially from Martinique), but she is also a white minority in an island full of black people. On top of this, she is a character hated by all, since her father was a notorious slave owner. I think that being born into this world is what basically dooms her from the start.

The fact that both women were outsiders is a particularly important aspect of the book. Throughout Wide Sargasso Sea, Antoinette struggles to relate with anyone. In fact, the only person she feels truly comfortable with is Christophine. I think this is indicative of Antoinette's nature, showing that she relates more with the black natives than the white colonizers. However, bound by societal expectations, she is forced to play the role of dependent housewife. Though people in our class had mixed feelings about Rochester, I for one did not like him. Despite getting to hear his perspective, I felt like he was just in it for the money. Indeed, he seemed to have several personal problems regarding his father, and took them out on Antoinette in particular. He let Antoinette fall in love with him, all the while acting haughty and not trying to reciprocate those feelings. When Antoinette tried using Christophine's love potion, it's a risky but desperate move. At this point, she is willing to try anything, yet Rochester is already a lost cause. I did not take this as her intentionally poisoning him, but the onsets of the damage Rochester caused on her. She is experiencing withdrawals from love much like one would experience from a drug, and this is what leads to her eventual demise.

By Part Three, the Jane Eyre influences are really being tied in (I assume, since I haven't read the book myself), and by this point I found it nearly impossible to relate to Rochester. It is then that Antoinette starts going mad. While it was assumed in those times that mental illness was inherited, especially by women, I think Rochester is what pushes her over the edge. In a different life, Antoinette could have had a very happy, healthy life. Instead, she is left to wilt away in an attic, with only Grace Poole and her nightmares to keep her company. Upon closing the book, I came to the conclusion that both Annette and Antoinette were drawn to insanity, yes, but not of their own fault. Rather, it was the men in their lives who took advantage of them due to selfish reasons. I wonder if their fates could have been different, given better circumstances. I also found it kind of prophetic how Annette's life was continued in Antoinette's, and this made me appreciate the point Jean Rhys was trying to make.

The Stranger in The Stranger

Upon opening The Stranger by Albert Camus, I was curious as to who or what the title was referring to. My initial thoughts were that we would get a third-person perspective of a peculiar individual in society, and maybe criticize and analyze his behaviors over the course of the book. Perhaps there would be a recurring, odd individual in the story, always lurking on the sidelines and eventually getting involved in things that didn't concern him. I was not expecting that Camus would actually put us in the shoes of that character. Because we got to be inside Meursault's mind, the author urged us to consider his significance in society. Like most of the 20th century novels we've read so far, The Stranger offers a unique perspective into the workings of the human mind. Most of the protagonists we've encountered over the semester are arguable social hermits, all either too enthralled or unfazed entirely by events in their life. In the case of The Mezzanine by Nicholson Baker, the main character pays excruciating detail to everything in his life. So much so, in fact, that it doesn't leave much room in the book for any significant plot. Similarly, Clarissa Dalloway in Mrs. Dalloway spends the bulk of her day thinking about her party, and not much else. Contrastingly, Jake Barnes in The Sun Also Rises is an emotionally removed individual, kudos to his traumatic past, yet his feelings are still made clear to us over the course of the book.

When it comes to The Stranger, however, Meursault's troubled past is hinted at, but doesn't seem to faze him in the slightest. In fact, I would argue that this is the reason for his detached demeanor. It is quite possible that his parents never showed him any love in his youth, and he has grown up lacking human emotions. Indeed, the court and citizens seem to think there's something wrong with him. What perplexed me, though, was the fact that they soon lost interest in the reason they were all there, with the court case turning into an analysis of his mind rather than his crime. On a weekend getaway with his friends and girlfriend, Meursault shot and killed an Arab man. Since it is unclear to the audience why he did this, there's some hope when the court began questioning his motives. Frustratingly, Meursault doesn't seem to know, either. They eventually sentence him to death by beheading, and we feel pity for him. Yet it is important to realize that we have an in that the rest of the characters do not. Like I assumed before reading the book, they are simply analyzing someone they find weird. Though by experiencing everything in the first person, we are able to draw conclusions about Meursault's reasoning. However, even though we have VIP access to his thoughts, it feels like he censors them to us, too. He rarely quotes himself or others, and seems more interested in describing his surroundings than his thoughts and feelings about a particular situation.

Plot confusion aside, we all decided that if anything, Meursault is a brutally honest man. He doesn't feel the need to sugar coat things like we do, so this should make him a credible source. Because of this, I was skeptical to assume that he was putting up a facade for us. Some people in our class have called him a sociopath, and I believe there is some truth to this. He kills a man, and doesn't seem to feel any remorse for it. Because I assume that none of us share the same psyche as him, I think the book is aptly named. Even though we get some perspective into his life, he is still a complete stranger to us, and most of us agreed that he has mental problems. I believe Camus made this book purposely vague, challenging us to reason with a character whose mindset is completely alien from ours.

American Horror Story: Gregor

So I know the newest season of American Horror Story just aired a week ago, but since I don't have cable and am still on season 4, I thought I'd share what occurred to me while watching Freak Show alongside reading The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. Needless to say, there'll be ***spoilers***.

At the beginning of the season, we are introduced to a scary clown that terrorizes the 1950s town of Jupiter, Florida. He looks bedraggled, wears a mask covering his mouth, and carries a knapsack of equally dirty clubs and other simplified weapons. In the first few minutes of the show, we watch him viciously attack an innocent couple; killing one and kidnapping the other. However, a few episodes later, we learn about this character's past. It turns out this is just a simple-minded, misunderstood character. He mentions he was dropped on his head as a child, which explains things, and it's made clear that his intentions are innocent. Of course, this shouldn't excuse his actions, but it makes the audience sympathize with him to an extent. After being ridiculed all his life and taken advantage of for simply entertaining children, he's banished from the circus and turns to kidnapping children to enjoy his act. Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to see the wrong in this. One thing that adds to the ambiguity of his character is the fact that he wears a mask, under which are the deformed remains of his face. Because he has a large, bloody hole where his mouth used to be, he's unable to communicate with others. This menacing exterior, on top of his strange actions, all reminded me of Gregor Samsa in The Metamorphosis. 

The first similarity I found between the two was that both transformed into their "monster" forms against their will or unknowingly, and consequently overlook this change altogether. At first, the reaction of Gregor's family struck us as insensitive, yet it's important to remember that he had, in fact, transformed into a giant insect. In the case of the clown, he's unaware that he's done anything wrong once he stops simply entertaining children and moves to drastic measures like killing their families, who are obstacles to him. Of course, Gregor isn't a murderer, but, like the clown, he values his old lifestyle of traveling salesman over the obvious changes that have occurred. Secondly, both have trouble communicating with the people around them on the physical level: Gregor no longer has vocal cords and the clown no longer has a normal mouth. However, they both still try to make their intentions clear, which unfortunately comes off as a bunch of undecipherable noise. Lastly, they both look pretty menacing, and the other characters are relieved once they die. When Gregor dies, his family is actually overjoyed, now excited by what the future has in store. Similarly, once the clown dies, the town gets to relax a little.

Overall, I don't know if I'm reaching, but I definitely saw some parallels between these two story lines. Also, we mentioned that The Metamorphosis may very possibly be about Gregor's family, not Gregor himself, and that's also true in Freak Show. The majority of the plot is centered around the main characters in said Freak Show, and the clown pops up every once in a while to add some terror.

The Sun Also Riseth

At the beginning of this unit, we took some time to read the epigraphs at the start of the book. They are:

"You are all a lost generation." - Gertrude Stein in conversation

"One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh; but the earth abideth forever ... The sun also riseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to the place where he arose ... The wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about unto the north; it wirleth about continually, and the wind returneth again according to his circuits. ... All the rivers run into the sea; yet the sea is not full; unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again." - Ecclesiastes

Originally, we were all pretty confused on the purpose of these two quotes and how they related to the novel. However, we now had a hunch as to where the title came from. Upon reading this, I was intrigued by what the novel would entail. A short while in, however, I realized it would be much more ambiguous than I had bargained for. The Sun Also Rises follows a castrated man by the name of Jake Barnes, and his unfulfilling monotonous routine of life in Paris. He's in love with a woman, Brett, but of course she's very sexually promiscuous and satisfies her needs with men that are not Jake. The book hints that they met many years ago, and Jake is still tormented yet infatuated by her presence. The author makes it clear that he's not interested in any other women, especially not sexually, than Brett. 

All this made me wonder why the book is called what it is. From the Ecclesiastes quote, it is pretty clear that humans are just pawns in the bigger picture of the world. This made me consider the fact that The Sun Also Rises takes place right after the war, and Jake has lost a lot (specifically, his ability to reproduce). Though not all WWI veterans came out like he did, Jake represents the aimlessness and wandering of the Lost Generation. Like many others around him, he drinks and parties to dull the pain. However, he is never really happy when doing these things. He mentions repeatedly how the people he's surrounded by, his "friends," irritate him constantly. On numerous occasions, he expresses his distaste for a situation, then turns to alcohol as a way of comfort. When he sees the gay men dancing with Brett, he is so frustrated that he has to leave. "I walked down the street and had a beer at the bar at the next Bal. The beer was not good and I had a worse cognac to take the taste out of my mouth" (20). However, there are also times when he enjoys drinking. When Jake takes his vacation in San Sebastian, we get to see how being by himself changes his mindset. "I drank a bottle of wine for company. It was a Château Margaux. It was pleasant to be drinking slowly and to be tasting the wine and to be drinking alone" (232-33). 

Overall, I think the reason for Ernest Hemingway including the Ecclesiastes quote is to hint at the general theme of this book. Jake, a lone soul who literally lost a generation (he's no longer able to produce any offspring), finds himself in a meaningless loop of existence. However, the novel ends on a relatively positive note. Brett and him are finally happy with each other's company, and are optimistic about their roles in society. I also think it is significant that the last page of the book emphasizes how "hot and bright" it is outside. As a matter of fact, Hemingway says this twice. It looks like the sun has risen after all.

Jake's Curse (or Brett's Curse?)

Today in class, we continued to discuss Jake's war wound and its significance. Though not explicitly addressed, it is safe to infer that he is impotent, and has similar issues with "performance." Because this is a concealed wound (at least, when he has his clothes on), he still tries to carry himself like nothing is wrong. He succeeds to some extent and appears to be a fairly popular guy, yet The Sun Also Rises can also be seen as a tragedy. Even though he has friends and presents himself as a confident man, he is incredibly lonely and sexually/emotionally deprived. By this point in the novel, it is clear that he is in love with Brett. However, she parties a lot and hangs out with tons of guys, so he feels helpless in comparison. They end up talking about this issue, and agree that it isn't meant to be. The reason? Brett would probably cheat on him because he wouldn't be able to satisfy her fully. Now, while the author's intention may be for the audience to simply pity Jake, I think Ernest Hemingway was trying to get at something else. Though I haven't read the whole book yet, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that he sees the increased sexual promiscuity of women in the 1920s as destructive.

The novel, narrated from Jake's perspective, gives us the sense that he's trying to pretend the injury doesn't phase him. This depicts the forced concept of masculinity, as pertinent to this time period. After World War I, men were expected to come back as hyper-masculine versions of their old selves. In the case of Jake, however, things took an unexpected turn. In the process of doing what society expected him to--fight valiantly in the war--he lost the thing "more important than life itself." In this sense, he is also similar to Septimus in Mrs. Dalloway. Both men went in expecting to prove themselves, but when they returned it was clear that some part of them stayed in the war. What makes their loses different from that of an amputee, for example, is that their ailments aren't visible on first glance. Both seem relatively put together (Septimus less so, but he still has all his limbs), so it is hard for strangers to pity them.

Brett, on the other hand, is well aware of Jake's misfortune. In fact, she is the very nurse that cared for him in the war hospital, and this is when they fell in love. Because of Jake's injury, Hemingway portrays the two as star-crossed lovers. However, I find this weird. While it is clear that they may never be able to consummate the marriage (if there is one), both characters clearly want each other. Though Brett has her fun around town, she confesses that she is unhappy and misses him. At this point, I am confused as to what the author's intention is when he shows Brett as incapable of making it work with Jake. Is Hemingway trying to hint that women like her have lost all sense of compassion, and are only interested in sex? Overall, I want to see where this goes, and if they'll end up together or not. 

Clarissa's Lovers

Upon reading Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf and discussing it in class, most of us have come to the conclusion that Clarissa Dalloway lives a life of concealed regret, often found reminiscing about what could've been. This point is reinforced by the different romantic characters that come into her life, and how she's affected by them.

Peter Walsh, for starters, represents the uncertainty women of her time faced when encountering their first love. Though it may have been tempting for both of them (certainly for Peter) to seal the knot, there were definitely some personality inconsistencies. In 1923 when this novel takes place, Clarissa finds herself thinking back to him numerous times. It is possible that she is dwelling on him and even wishes she'd said yes to his marriage proposal. However, I think the fact that she declined and continued with her life says something about her rebellious character. In the early 20th century, women were expected to settle down young and start makin' babies right away to keep the family line going. By recognizing the faults in Peter's character and rejecting him, it is clear that she still hasn't seen all her options, and knows it. Indeed, even 30 years later when they reunite, she is ticked off by his little annoying habits (like the knife thing). Additionally, he's always been quite condescending of her. Describing her sarcastically as the perfect hostess, it is clear that they wouldn't have meshed well in the long run.

Peter and Clarissa go way back. Peter proposed to Clarissa, but she declined.

Here we see Peter ~30 years later. He is still conflicted about his feelings for Clarissa.

On the other hand, Richard Dalloway, almost the antithesis of Peter, ends up being the man whose name she takes (hence Mrs. Dalloway). Introduced in the book as a remarkably bland and timid character, he makes the reader wonder why Clarissa chose him. One conclusion that I came to is that he is the man society expects her to marry. An established member of Parliament, Clarissa finds herself growing fond of him. However, would this make her a gold digger? While she is found focusing the bulk of her time on parties and similar frivolous events, I believe that, in some ways, the two are almost perfect for each other. Though some may call them platonic, there is something soft and comforting about their relationship. In the end, though, I found it sad that he doesn't run through her mind on the daily, like Peter and Sally do. It seems like she settled for him just because she was supposed to.

Richard Dalloway is a classy man. This is probably why Clarissa chose him.

However, their relationship lacks its spark. Richard looks on as Clarissa meets someone more interesting.

Finally, Sally Seton sparks Clarissa's wild side. At the time the book was published, homosexuality was a foreign concept. However, the way Virginia Woolf illustrates their relationship is subtle, which I think makes the audience relate to them more. By avoiding specific labels, Woolf is able to craft Clarissa's most significant relationship in a way that seems both organic and appealing. Drawn to each other in their youth, the two women find comfort in each other's company, more so than they do with other people in their lives. After significant build up, they share a kiss--a moment of revelation that is soon crashed by a bumbling Peter. Though it only happens once, it's clear that the kiss is much more meaningful to them than those in their respective heterosexual relationships. Unfortunately, this love can't flourish in the late 19th century, and both women are pushed to marry who society wants them to.

Clarissa is thrilled and excited by Sally's company.

Eventually, they share a kiss, which Clarissa describes as "the most exquisite moment of her whole life."