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.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
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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