I wanted to write out a long blog post about Entropy, but the more I think about it the more depressed I get. I had so many good things to say, but it seems kind of wasted now. Plus I have to go to work tonight so I must get off the computer and sleep.... Just let me say this:
I really wish I could have discussed this story with the class. I feel like out of all the stories we discussed during our last classes we spent the least amount of time on this one. I understand it happens, but I was SO prepared to teach everyone a thing or two about what I learned about this story and what I liked about it, but every time I tried to speak out about its deeper meaning it seemed I was pushed under the rug for lack of time and a somewhat disinterest from everyone in the room.
So yeah. Entropy.
Friday, May 3, 2013
American Literature: Expectations and rewards of the semester
My expectations have changed. American literature is about
struggle and overcoming our fears and oppression of society. We see that in ALL
of the things we've read! In the Land of the Free (544) is about the oppression
of immigrants and how the government rules on money. These people cannot even
get their child back without waving some money in someone's face. The Other Two
by Edith Wharton (522) is about a woman climbing out of oppression through the
men she marries. An Agony. As is Now (1520) is about the oppression of a man
who cannot be himself in his own skin. Even Entropy (1547) is a story of
intellectuals being oppressed by the advances in technology making free
thinking seem obsolete. All of these stories are from different time periods,
yet deal with the same ideology. Being oppressed and unable to express their
feelings based on societal clauses, which either make them feel helpless and
suffocated, or liberate them in to going against the current and being the
person they long to be.
Cathedral
Great story. Wonderfully written. The ending was obviously the best part. The
man/narrator "sees" nothing but what is in his mind. He is drawing a
cathedral, but once he's in the rhythm of the picture the blind man tells him
to "close [his] eyes" (1567) and to keep drawing. Once he finished he
refused to open his eyes. I think he pictured life from the blind man's
perspective. Through this blind man he was able to be outside of himself and
see something in his mind as vividly as he ever has. "It was like nothing
else in my life up to now" (1567).
I think that through this exercise the narrator has a spiritual
experience. He's unable to answer his wife when she asked him what was
happening (1566). This man had a sort of "out of body experience"
where he left his physical world and went into a state of complete zen, kind of
reminds me of meditation actually. We can see this clearly in the second to
last paragraph of the story: My eyes were still closed. I was in my house. I
knew it. But I didn't feel like I was inside anything (1567).
Monday, April 8, 2013
Am I Racist?
When I was a small child (roughly 4) I grew up in a predominantly poor, white neighborhood. Looking back, it's easy to see that most of my poor, white neighbors were poor, white racists. I know this because I only had one friend. She lived at the end of the street and she came from a contextually rich family. She happened to be black. I considered this girl my best friend. Every day I would ride my bike to her house and we would sit in her back yard and do whatever it is that little girls do. She was really important to me. Now, I honestly can't remember her name, but she helped shape the kind of person I am from a very young age.
I remember she invited me to her birthday party. I was excited. My parents were social people at the time, and would occasionally have our neighbors babysit me. I mentioned this great news about her birthday party to my neighbor and my neighbor said, "It's nice that you're friends with that little black girl." Her statement confused me. Why was that nice? She's a nice girl, of course I'm going to be her friend. It really never occurred to me, being a four year old, that she was different from me. I knew I was white and that she didn't look like me, but it's like someone had withheld a certain amount of information from me that white people and black people were different. We're all just the same. She's a girl who's four, I am a girl who's four. She likes four year old girl things, I like four year old girl things. What's more to it than that? She is a human, I am a human and we are friends.
So I started paying more attention to these things and came to realize that my parents and other neighbors that I considered my role models would ALSO make snide little comments about "my little black friend". It pissed me off. I was confused for a lot of my childhood on the difference between having a white friend and having a black friend. I never asked. It seemed like something I should have already known and I would have felt stupid for asking, so I never did. Thankfully I grew up, matured and went to school, where my mind developed and I was able to form opinions and realize my own moral standings. I don't know when it exactly happened, but I vowed to myself to never be like my neighbors, my parents and whoever else and to NEVER classify people of color as a "little black girl" and focus more on these people as just "little girls".
So maybe that's why I feel kind of racist when we talk about Black Aesthetic. Throughout high school, when we'd talk about Civil Rights and "African American Writers" I always rolled my eyes, groaned and thought to myself: Why can't we just talk about WRITERS? Why do we have to segregate these writers as BLACK writers. Why don't we mention when a writer happens to be white? WHY IS THIS A THING THAT HAPPENS?
As you can see, I would get pretty angry about it. It sometimes came to the point that I would be so fed up about hearing about "black writers" and "black poets" and "black artists" that I considered to myself that I might be racist. Why did I react in such a negative way when speaking about African Americans? It's not that I didn't care, and I honestly find racism repulsive, but why did I have such hate for a subject that is important to understand?
Thankfully, in college I have found, that I DON'T have to feel racist about ignoring the race of a writer. Ralph Ellison made this apparent to me in Invisible Man (chapter 1) because even though this story is about a black child in a room of disgusting white men who treat him like an animal, that's not what the story is about. The story is about being oppressed in a general way. An oppressed African American child is the same as an oppressed gay man, the same as an oppressed woman, and the same as me, an oppressed white female who just wants to learn and go to college to make money doing something she loves. We are all the SAME regardless of everything else. We all have hearts and brains and feelings and we can all form thoughts and opinions, therefore nothing separates us.
I remember she invited me to her birthday party. I was excited. My parents were social people at the time, and would occasionally have our neighbors babysit me. I mentioned this great news about her birthday party to my neighbor and my neighbor said, "It's nice that you're friends with that little black girl." Her statement confused me. Why was that nice? She's a nice girl, of course I'm going to be her friend. It really never occurred to me, being a four year old, that she was different from me. I knew I was white and that she didn't look like me, but it's like someone had withheld a certain amount of information from me that white people and black people were different. We're all just the same. She's a girl who's four, I am a girl who's four. She likes four year old girl things, I like four year old girl things. What's more to it than that? She is a human, I am a human and we are friends.
So I started paying more attention to these things and came to realize that my parents and other neighbors that I considered my role models would ALSO make snide little comments about "my little black friend". It pissed me off. I was confused for a lot of my childhood on the difference between having a white friend and having a black friend. I never asked. It seemed like something I should have already known and I would have felt stupid for asking, so I never did. Thankfully I grew up, matured and went to school, where my mind developed and I was able to form opinions and realize my own moral standings. I don't know when it exactly happened, but I vowed to myself to never be like my neighbors, my parents and whoever else and to NEVER classify people of color as a "little black girl" and focus more on these people as just "little girls".
So maybe that's why I feel kind of racist when we talk about Black Aesthetic. Throughout high school, when we'd talk about Civil Rights and "African American Writers" I always rolled my eyes, groaned and thought to myself: Why can't we just talk about WRITERS? Why do we have to segregate these writers as BLACK writers. Why don't we mention when a writer happens to be white? WHY IS THIS A THING THAT HAPPENS?
As you can see, I would get pretty angry about it. It sometimes came to the point that I would be so fed up about hearing about "black writers" and "black poets" and "black artists" that I considered to myself that I might be racist. Why did I react in such a negative way when speaking about African Americans? It's not that I didn't care, and I honestly find racism repulsive, but why did I have such hate for a subject that is important to understand?
Thankfully, in college I have found, that I DON'T have to feel racist about ignoring the race of a writer. Ralph Ellison made this apparent to me in Invisible Man (chapter 1) because even though this story is about a black child in a room of disgusting white men who treat him like an animal, that's not what the story is about. The story is about being oppressed in a general way. An oppressed African American child is the same as an oppressed gay man, the same as an oppressed woman, and the same as me, an oppressed white female who just wants to learn and go to college to make money doing something she loves. We are all the SAME regardless of everything else. We all have hearts and brains and feelings and we can all form thoughts and opinions, therefore nothing separates us.
An Agony. As Now.
This poem is amazing. I think it's probably the best poem assigned in class and it all happens for me in the last stanza:
It burns the thing
inside it. And that thing
screams.
This small little stanza sums up the entire poem, but it does it in a way that is haunting. The whole poem talks about this man/soul being trapped in a metal jail/another human and we see the suffering steady throughout, but this last stanza makes you FEEL the agony with the speaker. I'm really impressed with Baraka's ability to do this because it sneaks up on you. It certainly did to me.
This oppression is hot like metal, it is suffocating and unrelenting. I think what hits it home for me the most is the fact that even though "this thing" is screaming, the oppression, the hot metal, is stopping it from being heard. He is screaming out, being burnt by this oppression, and he has no way of letting it out and letting himself be heard.
Baraka has this ability to bring forth your own sense of touch when talking about this metal. This metal burns, burns, burns. Imagine a summer day getting in to your car. You reach to put on your seat belt and you grab this hot metal. You immediately pull away, cursing the sun for the pain. You fidget and manage somehow to put on your seat belt without touching the metal. You avoid this metal because it BURNS and it HURTS. Imagine not being able to remove your hand from that metal? Imagine being stuck in your car in the middle of no where, windows up, 100 degrees, with your hand permanently attached to this belt buckle. You're screaming in pain, wanting desperately for someone to come save you. Wanting some sort of relief from this scolding metal....and no one even knows you're there. That's agony.
It's like watching a horror movie. This person is being tortured. We are aware that this person is being tortured, but there is no hope for them. No one can hear the screams, the cries. He is forever trapped to feel this agony forever. Forever.
It burns the thing
inside it. And that thing
screams.
This small little stanza sums up the entire poem, but it does it in a way that is haunting. The whole poem talks about this man/soul being trapped in a metal jail/another human and we see the suffering steady throughout, but this last stanza makes you FEEL the agony with the speaker. I'm really impressed with Baraka's ability to do this because it sneaks up on you. It certainly did to me.
This oppression is hot like metal, it is suffocating and unrelenting. I think what hits it home for me the most is the fact that even though "this thing" is screaming, the oppression, the hot metal, is stopping it from being heard. He is screaming out, being burnt by this oppression, and he has no way of letting it out and letting himself be heard.
Baraka has this ability to bring forth your own sense of touch when talking about this metal. This metal burns, burns, burns. Imagine a summer day getting in to your car. You reach to put on your seat belt and you grab this hot metal. You immediately pull away, cursing the sun for the pain. You fidget and manage somehow to put on your seat belt without touching the metal. You avoid this metal because it BURNS and it HURTS. Imagine not being able to remove your hand from that metal? Imagine being stuck in your car in the middle of no where, windows up, 100 degrees, with your hand permanently attached to this belt buckle. You're screaming in pain, wanting desperately for someone to come save you. Wanting some sort of relief from this scolding metal....and no one even knows you're there. That's agony.
It's like watching a horror movie. This person is being tortured. We are aware that this person is being tortured, but there is no hope for them. No one can hear the screams, the cries. He is forever trapped to feel this agony forever. Forever.
A Streetcar Named Desire
Let me start off by saying that it has been a while. I know, I know, I know. I'm sorry.
A Streetcar Named Desire is a play that I am rather fond of. My boyfriend is a movie enthusiast and tends to make me watch all of the great things that has ever been produced in the film industry. I first saw this play about three years ago. I watched the Marlon Brando rendition.
In class we did a lot of talking about the characters that we chose. I chose Stella. I chose her because I felt everyone seemed to find her to be an idiot. I wanted to stick up for her character and try to rationalize the situation she was in and try to help others realize there was more to her than just a punching bag for Stanley.
So I guess I sympathized with her right off the bat. I "got" her, you know? She wasn't a weak woman, hell I think she was pretty empowered actually. She lived in a place that she loathed. A southern town of the same people, the same routines and the same scenery. She wanted a CHANGE . I can't imagine how scary it must have been for her to go out at this time in the world to a city she didn't know, just because she needed a change. It takes a lot of guts to put yourself out there like that, especially as a woman in this time. So no, Stella isn't weak. She's just bored and needs excitement.
I am not condoning woman abuse. I do think there is an element of shock and dysfunction her relationship with Stanley, but who's to say she doesn't want it that way? She seemed pretty aware of Stanley's anger issues throughout the whole play, so when she went off at his poker buddies in Scene Three, I think she knew what she was doing...at least subconsciously. She subconsciously knew how Stanley would react and she didn't care. She's thrilled by Stanley and the way he makes her feel.
Some people in class brought up that she just wanted attention and I couldn't disagree with a statement more. It wasn't about having all the attention on her, it was about experiencing the desire and ignoring the actual problems in her life. We see her ignoring "real life" when she flees town, we see her ignoring her actual problems when she causes a fuss with Stanley and we even see her ignoring the reality that Stanley rapes Blanche when Stella sides with Stanley and "ships" her sister off to a mental hospital. She rejects the harshness of the world and only wants to have fun.
Now this isn't to say she does this without regret. She probably does regret some of the things. She seems guilty for leaving her sister to deal with all the problems back home and she seems extremely guilty for sending her sister away, but at the end of the day, the need for Stanley and the need for adventure will overpower her feelings of guilt. For ever ounce of guilt she feels, she'll more than likely make up for it fun. Desire overrides guilt.
A Streetcar Named Desire is a play that I am rather fond of. My boyfriend is a movie enthusiast and tends to make me watch all of the great things that has ever been produced in the film industry. I first saw this play about three years ago. I watched the Marlon Brando rendition.
In class we did a lot of talking about the characters that we chose. I chose Stella. I chose her because I felt everyone seemed to find her to be an idiot. I wanted to stick up for her character and try to rationalize the situation she was in and try to help others realize there was more to her than just a punching bag for Stanley.
So I guess I sympathized with her right off the bat. I "got" her, you know? She wasn't a weak woman, hell I think she was pretty empowered actually. She lived in a place that she loathed. A southern town of the same people, the same routines and the same scenery. She wanted a CHANGE . I can't imagine how scary it must have been for her to go out at this time in the world to a city she didn't know, just because she needed a change. It takes a lot of guts to put yourself out there like that, especially as a woman in this time. So no, Stella isn't weak. She's just bored and needs excitement.
I am not condoning woman abuse. I do think there is an element of shock and dysfunction her relationship with Stanley, but who's to say she doesn't want it that way? She seemed pretty aware of Stanley's anger issues throughout the whole play, so when she went off at his poker buddies in Scene Three, I think she knew what she was doing...at least subconsciously. She subconsciously knew how Stanley would react and she didn't care. She's thrilled by Stanley and the way he makes her feel.
Some people in class brought up that she just wanted attention and I couldn't disagree with a statement more. It wasn't about having all the attention on her, it was about experiencing the desire and ignoring the actual problems in her life. We see her ignoring "real life" when she flees town, we see her ignoring her actual problems when she causes a fuss with Stanley and we even see her ignoring the reality that Stanley rapes Blanche when Stella sides with Stanley and "ships" her sister off to a mental hospital. She rejects the harshness of the world and only wants to have fun.
Now this isn't to say she does this without regret. She probably does regret some of the things. She seems guilty for leaving her sister to deal with all the problems back home and she seems extremely guilty for sending her sister away, but at the end of the day, the need for Stanley and the need for adventure will overpower her feelings of guilt. For ever ounce of guilt she feels, she'll more than likely make up for it fun. Desire overrides guilt.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Fate vs Total Control
In class I was really struggling with which I believed in, but I think sitting here at home I can make my words more clear.
I don't believe that we have total control over everything, but I also don't believe that no matter what we do there's always one outcome. I like to look at it like this: We have control of what actions we take and, depending on those actions, we get an end result. There can be numerous end results. I could be an astronaut, or a bum on the sidewalk. A stay at home mom or the single mom bread winner of four. I think that life is limitless in the terms of what one can accomplish, but other factors play in to it. We could be born in to a family of limited means, or in to a family with money to piss away and that its self can change the end result.
I want to be a teacher, so that is what I aspire to be. The choices I make are choices that revolve around this idea. So I get up every day and go to work and go to school and read things and shove as much information in my head as I can. But that's because I WANT to. If I keep it up with these actions I will more than likely reach the goal I am after. But let's say I started binge drinking. I stop going to work and school and the only thing I shove in my brain is alcohol. What are the chances of me being a teacher then? Very, very slim.
My fate is what I chose it to be. Actions have great consequences. Through control we help define our fate. Fate is heavily weighted by choices.
I don't believe that we have total control over everything, but I also don't believe that no matter what we do there's always one outcome. I like to look at it like this: We have control of what actions we take and, depending on those actions, we get an end result. There can be numerous end results. I could be an astronaut, or a bum on the sidewalk. A stay at home mom or the single mom bread winner of four. I think that life is limitless in the terms of what one can accomplish, but other factors play in to it. We could be born in to a family of limited means, or in to a family with money to piss away and that its self can change the end result.
I want to be a teacher, so that is what I aspire to be. The choices I make are choices that revolve around this idea. So I get up every day and go to work and go to school and read things and shove as much information in my head as I can. But that's because I WANT to. If I keep it up with these actions I will more than likely reach the goal I am after. But let's say I started binge drinking. I stop going to work and school and the only thing I shove in my brain is alcohol. What are the chances of me being a teacher then? Very, very slim.
My fate is what I chose it to be. Actions have great consequences. Through control we help define our fate. Fate is heavily weighted by choices.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Intimate Apparel: A Happy Ending?
I went to see the play at Sinclair on Sunday and I honestly didn't know what to expect. Needless to say, I am very glad I went because it was pretty awesome. I think what I enjoyed most about it is the fact that this wasn't a very long play, but it had SO much going on with it.
We have a large amount of characters all from different backgrounds interacting with each other. The play shows how each class and gender have struggles and how these struggles differ from everyone else. The set design is important here because it shows that even though these characters come from different backgrounds and situations, they still work together and are intertwined in this community. As an audience member I found this to be a clever technique. (Also time efficient and logically sound.) But that's not what I want to talk about here. The main question that I was left with at curtain call was: Was this a happy ending? Why didn't Esther and Mr. Marks get together in the end?
Esther is the main character who is a 35 year old single African American woman. For majority of her life has been a single seamstress. She doesn't have a lot going for her. She's a plain lady with simple pleasures. Then we have Mr. Marks who is a Romanian Jewish immigrant who owns a fabric store. He's in an arranged marriage back home to a woman he doesn't even know. He understands and is somewhat fascinated by fabric and understands the intricate workings of the hand.
Over time these two characters seem to start developing feelings for one another. They giggle when they see each other and Esther even finds herself feeling guilt for going to see him when she is married to another man. (Who happens to be a sleeze, by the way) Mr. Marks has strict rules that he cannot touch another woman, yet he touches her anyway. All the signs are there, but nothing ever happens of it. Sure, Esther's husband eventually runs away and she is left alone again, and the ending is somewhat ambiguous on what happens between Esther and Mr. Marks, but I think it is safe to say that nothing happens at all.
At the end I felt kind of robbed of that romantic moment, but then it hit me: If the play ended with Mr. Marks sweeping Esther off her feet then it wouldn't be true to it's message. It wouldn't be a play about realism. In these times it would have been bananas for these two to be together. Not only is it a clash of religion, it is a clash of race. People weren't as accepting in those times than we are now. (Most of the time...at least in this respect)
So even though the romantic girly part of me was disappointed in the ending, thematically speaking I am pleased. I think overall I would have felt more robbed to get the typical RomCom ending in this piece. It doesn't fit nor makes any sense. This play stuck to its guns instead of giving the audience exactly what it wanted and therefore left us with an important message about the struggles of this time and to help us realize the lengths we have traveled since.
We have a large amount of characters all from different backgrounds interacting with each other. The play shows how each class and gender have struggles and how these struggles differ from everyone else. The set design is important here because it shows that even though these characters come from different backgrounds and situations, they still work together and are intertwined in this community. As an audience member I found this to be a clever technique. (Also time efficient and logically sound.) But that's not what I want to talk about here. The main question that I was left with at curtain call was: Was this a happy ending? Why didn't Esther and Mr. Marks get together in the end?
Esther is the main character who is a 35 year old single African American woman. For majority of her life has been a single seamstress. She doesn't have a lot going for her. She's a plain lady with simple pleasures. Then we have Mr. Marks who is a Romanian Jewish immigrant who owns a fabric store. He's in an arranged marriage back home to a woman he doesn't even know. He understands and is somewhat fascinated by fabric and understands the intricate workings of the hand.
Over time these two characters seem to start developing feelings for one another. They giggle when they see each other and Esther even finds herself feeling guilt for going to see him when she is married to another man. (Who happens to be a sleeze, by the way) Mr. Marks has strict rules that he cannot touch another woman, yet he touches her anyway. All the signs are there, but nothing ever happens of it. Sure, Esther's husband eventually runs away and she is left alone again, and the ending is somewhat ambiguous on what happens between Esther and Mr. Marks, but I think it is safe to say that nothing happens at all.
At the end I felt kind of robbed of that romantic moment, but then it hit me: If the play ended with Mr. Marks sweeping Esther off her feet then it wouldn't be true to it's message. It wouldn't be a play about realism. In these times it would have been bananas for these two to be together. Not only is it a clash of religion, it is a clash of race. People weren't as accepting in those times than we are now. (Most of the time...at least in this respect)
So even though the romantic girly part of me was disappointed in the ending, thematically speaking I am pleased. I think overall I would have felt more robbed to get the typical RomCom ending in this piece. It doesn't fit nor makes any sense. This play stuck to its guns instead of giving the audience exactly what it wanted and therefore left us with an important message about the struggles of this time and to help us realize the lengths we have traveled since.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Babylon Revisited
Babylon Revisited is a story about a man who returns to Paris after battling alcoholism to collect his daughter, who is living with is late wife's sister (Marion) and husband. I really liked this story. The ending seemed kind of heartbreaking, but at the same time it seemed validated. I really enjoy the writing style and how Fitzgerald seems to keep his biases of how he feels about the main character out of the text and just lays it all out there for us to make our own conclusion.
In class we are going to be discussing this story and the question: Does Charlie deserve to have his child back? I found that throughout the story I struggled with my empathy for Charlie. He seems to be doing good, dealing with life and the stress of building up his financial security after the crash of '29 brought him to the bottom (of a liquor bottle)... but once I looked deeper I found I wasn't too certain of his recovery.
First off, when we are introduced to this character he is trying to find his old friends. That is the biggest red flag for me. If he is trying to better his life and start anew, why try so hard to find these people? They represent his past and how horrible he used to be. He ends up giving Alix (The bartender I think) Marion's address so that he could pass it along to one of his old friends, Duncan. Later in the story when Duncan and another of Charlie's friends show up at Marion's home, drunk and loud, Charlie is extremely upset and completely denies the fact that he wanted Duncan to find him.
Secondly, I found it kind of odd that he is a recovery alcoholic yet still has one drink a day. He says it is so it won't overtake him again, but come on... If I just recently quit chain smoking the last thing that would be good for me is having a cigarette, let alone one a day. It seems like he is just a "functioning" alcoholic. He still needs to drink, so he limits it to one a day that way he can feel okay about the drink, while maintaining the facade of being clean and sober and completely healthy.
Lastly, towards the end of the story we find Charlie having a stressful time and going to the bar. A lot. He only orders his one drink and denies another on two separate occasions, but he is playing with fire here. He could easily fall back in to the same pattern and the scary thing about this is that he could fall back with a child in his care.
Fitzgerald's writing style can be particularly frustrating in this story. He doesn't allow you to take a certain side. He explains throughout that Charlie is rather eager to change his ways, but then he shows us all of these elements and small little details which makes it hard for me to have empathy for Charlie.
At the end of the story Marion rejects Charlie's request to have his child back. This is sad because he clearly loves his daughter and his daughter is very eager to be with him. I do not know if I am relieved, though. Part of me feels that he could relapse in to this habit of drinking again and another part of me feels that if he had his daughter with him he would be more likely to stay sober. This is the frustrating path I am sure most readers went down and I am pretty excited for Tuesday's class to hear everyone's opinion on the subject.
Stray thoughts: Babylon is a city in the Bible known for sin. Paris is Charlie's Babylon and he is returning to the city of his sins.
In class we are going to be discussing this story and the question: Does Charlie deserve to have his child back? I found that throughout the story I struggled with my empathy for Charlie. He seems to be doing good, dealing with life and the stress of building up his financial security after the crash of '29 brought him to the bottom (of a liquor bottle)... but once I looked deeper I found I wasn't too certain of his recovery.
First off, when we are introduced to this character he is trying to find his old friends. That is the biggest red flag for me. If he is trying to better his life and start anew, why try so hard to find these people? They represent his past and how horrible he used to be. He ends up giving Alix (The bartender I think) Marion's address so that he could pass it along to one of his old friends, Duncan. Later in the story when Duncan and another of Charlie's friends show up at Marion's home, drunk and loud, Charlie is extremely upset and completely denies the fact that he wanted Duncan to find him.
Secondly, I found it kind of odd that he is a recovery alcoholic yet still has one drink a day. He says it is so it won't overtake him again, but come on... If I just recently quit chain smoking the last thing that would be good for me is having a cigarette, let alone one a day. It seems like he is just a "functioning" alcoholic. He still needs to drink, so he limits it to one a day that way he can feel okay about the drink, while maintaining the facade of being clean and sober and completely healthy.
Lastly, towards the end of the story we find Charlie having a stressful time and going to the bar. A lot. He only orders his one drink and denies another on two separate occasions, but he is playing with fire here. He could easily fall back in to the same pattern and the scary thing about this is that he could fall back with a child in his care.
Fitzgerald's writing style can be particularly frustrating in this story. He doesn't allow you to take a certain side. He explains throughout that Charlie is rather eager to change his ways, but then he shows us all of these elements and small little details which makes it hard for me to have empathy for Charlie.
At the end of the story Marion rejects Charlie's request to have his child back. This is sad because he clearly loves his daughter and his daughter is very eager to be with him. I do not know if I am relieved, though. Part of me feels that he could relapse in to this habit of drinking again and another part of me feels that if he had his daughter with him he would be more likely to stay sober. This is the frustrating path I am sure most readers went down and I am pretty excited for Tuesday's class to hear everyone's opinion on the subject.
Stray thoughts: Babylon is a city in the Bible known for sin. Paris is Charlie's Babylon and he is returning to the city of his sins.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
In the Land of the Free
In the Land of the Free is a story about two Chinese
immigrants, Lae Choo and Hom Hing, who come to California for a better
opportunity. When Lae Choo finds out she is pregnant, she goes back to China so
that her and Hom Hing's child can be born in their native land. Lae Choo's
return back to the United States is delayed when Hom Hing's parents become sick,
causing her to stay and look after them. When his parents die, Lae Choo
returns. When she gets off the boat to greet her husband the officers refuse to
let her leave with her son. The problem is that when they first filed their
immigration papers they didn't have a child, so he does not have proper
identification to be allowed to stay in America. He is then taken away from
then until they get word from D.C. that he is legally allowed to be with his
parents. When things seemed to not progress, James Clancy, a lawyer that Hom
Hing knows, offers to help them get their son back to them for a large sum of
cash, which Choo and Hing obviously do not have. Lae Choo, so distraught,
offers this man all of her fine jewelry as payment. Confirmation finally comes from D.C. and Lae
Choo is very eager to go pick her son up from the missionary of which he was
staying. When they meet, her child says, "Go' way! Go 'way!"
This is really sad to me. They have legally done everything
to be part of this country and yet they have to wait for a letter from all the
way across the other side of the United States? This isn't like today, they
didn't have fax machines or anything, this took 10 months, which probably felt
like 10 years in the mind of a mother. I don't see why they couldn't have
stayed with their child, or perhaps the Customs Officer could have made record
of this and allowed Little One to stay with his mother and just have sent them
a letter when they needed to come back to straighten this out. This is just one
example of how badly immigrants were treated in this time in history. Even
though they have done everything to be true and right to a country with strict
laws on immigration, they did not seem to receive the same kind of respect, or
dignity. The lawyer also took advantage
of them. He knew they wanted this desperately so he saw an opportunity to make
money. This is also a prime example of what was going on in this time. Here we
have Chinese immigrants who just want to make an honest living and because of
their lack of knowledge of how the system works, they are completely helpless.
I also think that it is funny that they heard no word on their son until money
was involved. This says something about the United States and is still true
today. Money talks. Because of the way they were discriminated and treated,
their son did not even remember who his mother was and that is utterly
heartbreaking.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Blog Post 1: The Other Two
Hello! If you are reading this I assume you are either my teacher or a fellow student from my American Literature II class. Because this is my first blog post I really have no idea how I want to tackle this thing as a whole, but I think I will just wing it. Thank you for reading!
The story I want to talk about in this blog is Edith Wharton's "The Other Two" because I have a lot I want to say. The Other Two is essentially a story about four central characters in the early 1900s coming from three different social situations. We have Mr. Waythorn and Mrs. Waythorn (Alice), Gus Varick and Mr. Haskett. Mr. Waythorn is from the high class of society, Alice is from low class but due to her marriage is now high class, Gus Varick is of the middle class and Mr. Haskett is of the low class. Alice has married all of 'em. Her first husband was Mr. Haskett, where Alice married in to her born class, had a child called Lilly and eventually divorced, marrying up the class chain to Varick...Who which she also later divorced. .We fall upon these characters right after Waythorn and Alice are married. Lilly, Alice's daughter, has fallen ill with typhoid and is bedridden. Her father, Mr. Haskett has weekly visits with his daughter and due to these circumstances has requested to see her in her own bed, in the home of Mr. Waythorn. I hope that is enough background information to start us off, so here we go.
Throughout the story we see Alice's exes and current husband interact which brings me to the question brought up in class that I would like to address: Does this story have a happy ending? I would argue that it does. The ending has all of these characters in one room together having tea. This sounds pretty boring until you consider the time period of which it was written. How often have you heard of lower, middle and high class men sitting around sharing tea in the early 1900s? Probably almost never. This is why I think the story has a happy ending. If these men did not have Alice they would never be in this situation. Waythorn would never invite a low class citizen like Haskett in to his home for a cup of tea. It was just not kosher back in those times. But here we are, due to the fact that they all at once married this lady, are sitting in the same room together. It is a community that back in those times never happened. Lower class men would talk with other lower class men, middle class men would talk with middle class men and so on. It shows that all of these classes of gentlemen can coexist due to this common ground, which is Alice. I think that through Wharton's writing we see a sense of progression between these classes. I think it is her way of showing us that in her mind these classes do not define a person and we shouldn't limit ourselves by turning others away because doing so limits us from becoming a more well rounded, mature society. I like that.
The story I want to talk about in this blog is Edith Wharton's "The Other Two" because I have a lot I want to say. The Other Two is essentially a story about four central characters in the early 1900s coming from three different social situations. We have Mr. Waythorn and Mrs. Waythorn (Alice), Gus Varick and Mr. Haskett. Mr. Waythorn is from the high class of society, Alice is from low class but due to her marriage is now high class, Gus Varick is of the middle class and Mr. Haskett is of the low class. Alice has married all of 'em. Her first husband was Mr. Haskett, where Alice married in to her born class, had a child called Lilly and eventually divorced, marrying up the class chain to Varick...Who which she also later divorced. .We fall upon these characters right after Waythorn and Alice are married. Lilly, Alice's daughter, has fallen ill with typhoid and is bedridden. Her father, Mr. Haskett has weekly visits with his daughter and due to these circumstances has requested to see her in her own bed, in the home of Mr. Waythorn. I hope that is enough background information to start us off, so here we go.
Throughout the story we see Alice's exes and current husband interact which brings me to the question brought up in class that I would like to address: Does this story have a happy ending? I would argue that it does. The ending has all of these characters in one room together having tea. This sounds pretty boring until you consider the time period of which it was written. How often have you heard of lower, middle and high class men sitting around sharing tea in the early 1900s? Probably almost never. This is why I think the story has a happy ending. If these men did not have Alice they would never be in this situation. Waythorn would never invite a low class citizen like Haskett in to his home for a cup of tea. It was just not kosher back in those times. But here we are, due to the fact that they all at once married this lady, are sitting in the same room together. It is a community that back in those times never happened. Lower class men would talk with other lower class men, middle class men would talk with middle class men and so on. It shows that all of these classes of gentlemen can coexist due to this common ground, which is Alice. I think that through Wharton's writing we see a sense of progression between these classes. I think it is her way of showing us that in her mind these classes do not define a person and we shouldn't limit ourselves by turning others away because doing so limits us from becoming a more well rounded, mature society. I like that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)