true colors

In both Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness and Jim Coetzee’s Waiting for the Barbarians, an imperialist force is attempting to subdue a force of “others,” foreigners beyond the narrow understandings of the empires who attempt to control them. In the stories, these empires do not understand is that they are not waging a war against an “inferior” foe, but are squaring off against the forces of nature and wilderness which they simply cannot comprehend –which is the inevitable undoing of the aggressors. However, the novels do contain two characters who, although being a part of the imperialist system, are “lost” from their civilizations due to the relations which ensue between them and the locals. Interestingly, it is the differences between the motives behind the relationships of Kurtz and the Magistrate with the locals which determine their fates and legacies.

Both Kurtz and the Magistrate are assigned to outposts away from the supervision and direction of their governments. It is at this point –as pointed out in Douglas Kerr’s article “Three Ways of Going Wrong: Kipling, Conrad, Coetzee”- that the two become “traitors” to their cultures. Kurtz embraces local culture and installs himself at the head of a tribe. Poisoned by his greed he becomes completely native –finding himself to be “embraced” by the African wilderness- and turns to raiding other tribes for his precious ivory. The magistrate, on the other hand, accepts the local customs and language as his own in order to manage his province effectively through peace. He then turns, as he himself is surprised to notice, to the defense of those customs once his own empire turns to a campaign against the local barbarians in a need to keep its people united. After this change of sides, however, he is wise enough to realize that he himself cannot be truly embraced by the other culture. This realization comes to him through his relations with the blind barbarian woman and, upon the realization that any comfort that he could provide for her people would be less important to them than the atrocities committed by Colonel Joll, he returns her to her people and she leaves him after his request that she stay. Kurtz’s descent into the “darkness” is also represented by his relationship with a woman. As head of his tribe, Kurtz becomes intimate with and is frequently visited beautiful African woman –even though he has a fiancée in Europe. Kurtz, once a brilliant man, is overcome by his lust and greed through his time in the wilderness, while the Magistrate, once a man of leisure, subjects himself to humiliation and torture on behalf of strangers and his beliefs. In this sense, the wilderness reveals the true nature of both men.

Stilllll Waiting for Those Barbarians...

So far in reading J.M. Coetzee’s Waiting for the Barbarians, I have been struck primarily by what seems to be the omission of details of the characters and setting of the story. Instead the author works to skip what many people would consider the basic descriptions –such as the colors, dialects, and even names of the characters- but instead focuses on small details. Two perfect examples of this technique are the narrator and the Barbarian woman. The narrator gives an in-depth description of himself naked in his bedroom, which only leads the reader to the conclusion that he is an old man, and the woman’s scars and wounds are also vividly depicted while her description other than that is referred to only as somewhat “plain.” The one notable exception –other than the magistrates prostitute “bird” woman- seems to rest with Colonel Joll. In being named, the author has made him stand out as an anomaly in the reader’s mind –or at least in mine. This, however, seemed odd to me since Joll, although being named, seems much more of a representation of the system of the Empire than an individual character. In fact, he was the only representation of the government other than the “soft” magistrate other than the visiting Lieutenant, who only reaffirms the harsh system of Empirical rule suggested by Colonel Joll.

In my reading of the story, I have become somewhat fond of this technique due to that it leads the reader to create associations with the personalities of the characters. It also helps to avoid any prejudice due to either the narrator or the reader –a refreshing contrast to Heart of Darkness. It also, through this technique, creates a sense of universality in which that the Empire could exist in practically any location and the story itself can truly be related to any portion of the world.

On a separate note, I was surprised at the lack of action dealing with the “barbarians” in the story –it does seem like an inordinate amount of time of, well, waiting- and the amount of time spent in the magistrate’s bedroom with personal affairs. Could it be that the Empire’s citizens are, in fact, the barbarians? I guess I’ll just have to wait and see -yes, a cliff-hanger. I’m attempting to spice up my blog entries (388).

An Unreadable Report: Conrad's Heart of Darkness by Peter Brooks

• Heart of Darkness told in style of 19th Century detective story in sense that Marlow is simply solving the mystery behind Kurtz's story and meaning behind his report
• Through his journey into the wilderness, Marlow finds not a tangible prize, but instead "a voice"
• Marlow throughout the story becomes an "echo of [Kurtz's] magnificent eloquence"
  
• However, the experience gained through the journey is indescribable to those who have not seen for themselves and is beyond description by human language, which is why Marlow referrs to the company making a "readable" account of the events later, and lying to the "Intended"
  
• Kurtz's last words "The horror! The horror!" are return to base language and sum up Kurtz's life experience as by 19th century style
• Entire point of the narrative is to retell in order to gain understanding and in turn to then cause another echo of the experience
  

the beggining and the end

The final section in Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury serves to bring the novel to a close in a way that reveals the complete destruction of the once high-and-mighty Compson family and continuance of the family’s downward spiral beginning with the changing of Benjy’s name. In this section –told in a third person point of view primarily following the family’s longest surviving servant, Dilsey, during the morning of April 8, 1928- the reader can see the complete breakdown of the family into a dysfunctional group dependent on others simply to survive. Mrs. Compson, bed-ridden and delusional, leaves all of the house-hold matters to Dilsey, complains about having to make the slightest effort, and clings to her status as a “lady” throughout the morning as a justification in how the family’s problems were neither her fault nor her concern. The third person perspective also conveys her self-centered attitude without any character bias –claiming that the tragedy of Quentin’s suicide was intended only to wound her. More importantly, it is this clinging to status which creates the feeling of closure upon the end of the story. Although the Compsons’ situation has changed throughout the story, the stubbornly cling to their traditions -as is clearly shown through Jason’s assault of Luster for taking the wrong way around the town square- and it is this failure to adapt which keeps them firmly attached to their downward spiral in both wealth and well being (240).

Southern Comfort

Throughout our study thus far of Faulkner’s novel The Sound and the Fury, one aspect of the book, other than the twisted plot line, has caused repeated confusion and looks of bewilderment in our class: the references to Southern culture that we -or should I say most of us students not raised as southern gentlemen- simply do not understand. Whether it be from simple drawls and jargon such as Benjy’s reference to the “ahun” (iron) gate or now extinct common practices such as using gasoline to remove stains, our private-school “Yankee” knowledge has left us out of the loop. Luckily, during my search for a good JSTOR article for English class, I came across one article entitled “Faulkner’s Use of Folklore in The Sound and the Fury,” which gives several insights into the stories and culture that go behind many of Faulkner’s small references throughout the story.

The first of these references that the article discusses is the symbolism of the jimson weed, also known as the stink weed. Being from an arid and somewhat lifeless climate, I for one did not know that the jimson weed’s flower resembles a phallus and therefore is an ironic symbol of Benjy’s castration (Peavy 438). I also had no knowledge of the jimson weed’s poisonous qualities (Peavy 437). The fact that Benjy, a person with neither the knowledge of this quality nor the means to learn it short of being poisoned himself, is allowed to play with the weed and use it as a source of comfort reflects poorly on the attentiveness of his parents who are responsible for his well being. Another interesting trait of the south is a common belief centered on the jaybird. According to the article, the jaybird is known to go to hell once every three days carrying a piece of dirt in a valiant attempt to fill hell. This superstition is also referenced in the novel where Luster throws a rock at a jaybird, telling it to go back to hell (Peavy 443).

However, what I found most useful from this article is its explanation of the term “bluegum,” which evaded definition even following scholarly debate by my English class. This term, which is used repeatedly by Versh in the scene where Maury’s name is changed to Benjamin, referrs to the “bluegum Negro,” which -according to legend- has one black and one blue eye along with the ability to conjure (Peavy 445). In this scene, Versh goes on in his description of a horrible tail of “bluegum” children who ate their father out in the wilderness. This story coincides with the belief that the bite of a “bluegum” is fatal. Apparently, through the bad luck created through the changing of Benjy’s name, Versh believes that Benjy has gained supernatural powers which will cause only more harm to the family. This belief is shared by others in his family: as Frony’s fears having Luster and Benjy in the same bed, saying that Benjy will conjure Luster (Peavy 445). In this sense, one could argue that the tragedy experienced by the entire family could be explained due to Benjy’s conjuration of death following the changing of his name.


Works Cited (through JSTOR of course):

Peavy, Charles D. “Faulkner’s Use of Folklore in The Sound and the Fury.”
Journal of American Folklore. 313.79 (1966): 437-47.

(556)

Just For the Record...

To start my blog for this week, I would like to investigate further on a point mentioned by Sophie, myself, and a few others that the narrator in Gilman’s “The Yellow Wallpaper” most likely suffers from post-partum depression. After a visit to the Mayo-Clinic website, it is more than evident that she suffers from depression which then leads to her insanity. She changes both her sleeping and eating patterns, cries for little or no reason, loses her energy and motivation for activities, and retreats from her friends and family- all common and recognizable symptoms of post-partum depression.

In this sense, the husband may be at fault to a lesser extent than we decided during our discussion- at the top of page 425 he diagnoses his wife’s “condition” as “nervous depression.” It is only through his application of the age’s treatment for the illness that he is errant. By following the “rest cure” and forcing his wife to stay in the room with yellow wallpaper and removing her one outlet for creativity, writing, is grossly inappropriate for a woman in her condition and inevitably causes her insanity.

The rest of my blog I will dedicate to the numerous short stories that I have read over the last week.

In The Best American Short Stories 2007, I read “Toga Party” by John Barth and “Wait” by Roy Kesey. The first of these stories, “Toga Party,” is a tale about an old couple who is invited to a housewarming party. After the couple gains entry to the party, the story turns graphic- not only because of the author’s descriptions of promiscuous activities undertaken by an older generation, but also because all of the main characters systematically commit suicide. Although funny at first, the story’s depressing finale took the flavor out of the humorous dialogue. When reflecting on the story “Wait,” I realize that it also had its ridiculous moments, which left me to wonder whether the story was based on an unusual and real circumstance or if the author simply got carried away. I will not reveal too much for I genuinely liked the story, but I will give a small taste of what I am describing- at one point the protagonist was nearly struck by a small meteor while in an airport. The narration style, however, makes the events of the story seem much less unlikely than they actually are.

In the 2006 edition of The Best American Short Stories, I read two stories in which the protagonists find different ways of dealing with the town bully. In “Refresh, Refresh” by Benjamin Percy, two boys, whose fathers are stationed oversees, practice fighting one another in order to toughen up to face another boy. They eventually take revenge during a hunting trip by stealing the antagonist’s guns and scaring him while he is asleep in his tent. However, soon the bully is no longer the antagonist, for he learns that his father has been killed on duty, and the boys begin to pity him. They then turn against the town’s recruitment officer, but eventually enlist themselves. In Nathan Englander’s “How We Avenged the Blums,” a group of young Jewish boys attempt to team up against a local anti-Semite who has taken to attacking one family in particular, the Blums. After training for months with an Israeli veteran, the confrontation escalates to a small scale war. They end up enlisting the help of a larger boy to attack the anti-Semite and the story ends with the kids standing over their fallen enemy. All of these were entertaining stories and definitely worth a read.

Congratulations, You Found Me

In Flannery O’Connor’s short story “A Good Man is Hard to Find,” the grandmother and the Misfit meet under what seems to be a random and terrifying circumstance. However, it is through their conversation that they help one another through a spiritual struggle and each makes their own individual peace with God.

At the start of the story, the grandmother shows herself to be both vain and childish. When confronted with the family vacation to Florida, she immediately tries to get her way through whatever means necessary- such as her threat of encountering the Misfit and her desire to broaden her grandchildrens' horizons by taking them to east Tennessee. However, when given the option to stay behind, she declines for the sole reason, as June Star explains, that she would be “[a]fraid she’d miss something.” As the trip continues, she feeds off of her past as a means to keep herself at the center of attention- such as her story of being “courted” by a young gentleman, her conversation with Red Sam about “better times,” and her fabricated tale of a “secret panel.” Her childish ways culminate in her strong physical embarrassment about her faltering memory, which cause the sudden and fateful accident. The grandmother’s childish attitude is set in balance by another flaw, her arrogance and vanity over her status as a lady. This vanity is made apparent by her ridiculous apparel for the car ride to make sure that anyone “would know at once that she was a lady” along with her reminiscing over the days of plantations now “Gone With the Wind.” She also makes the mistake of confusing the quality of one’s soul with social class- when meeting the Misfit, she pleads that he must be a good man since he has no “common blood.”

The Misfit, on the other hand, is a man who has lost all faith; because of which he is driven to do evil. However, the Misfit does show that he was at least once a “good man” through his civility to his doomed captives: he does not speak of killing the family in order to stop them from being nervous, and he apologizes for his lack of a shirt in the presence of ladies. He is a man who has seen and experienced horrible things- a woman being flogged, a lynching, war, and even being buried alive- and through these experiences lost his way and blames God for throwing “everything off balance.” Not being to remember the crime of killing his own father, he has become twisted and angry inside and has committed his other crimes just so that he can record and remember them in its stead. It is the pain of not even knowing the entirety of his life that causes him to question God’s existence. He even states that if he were there to see Jesus’s miracles for himself, he may be different.

Through their fated meeting, the two characters are able to take steps toward cleansing one another of their sins. Through her family’s death, the grandmother is able to see the results of her actions- not only her lie about the secret panel, but also her being so excited upon recognizing the Misfit as to blurt out his name- and in the desperation of trying to save her own life, improves herself. While seeing those she loved being led into the forest to die, the grandmother begins to pray, and instead of cursing her antagonist, she attempts to save his soul by asking him to turn back to God. Her killer himself states that she “would of been a good woman” if she had been faced with death earlier. The Misfit, moved by the grandmothers efforts, begins to break down and realize the error of his ways just before lashing out in terror and killing the grandmother. It is after ending her life that he is transformed, instead of loving to cause pain and death to others, he shows remorse and remarks to killing as “no real pleasure.” Although she was unable to save her own life, through improving herself the grandmother was able to save not only her soul, but that of another. (698)

Donny's Advocate

Although I found all of the stories we read this week interesting in their own right, I found myself entirely fascinated by the character Donny in Anne Tyler’s story “Teenage Wasteland.” This fascination was (I will admit) somewhat biased due to the description of Donny in the opening paragraph of the story (Donny’s “very blonde hair” styled in “a little cowlick” reminds me of one of the several hairstyles I sported as a child) along with his quiet teenage angst made me instantly sympathetic towards the character. In fact, on my first read through, I was ready and somewhat eager to put all of the blame for Donny’s mistakes on the other characters in the story: the rarely present father, the hesitating but restrictive Daisy, the oppressive school, and finally (or especially) Cal, the manipulative mentor.

Indeed, during our class’s discussion, parts of the blame were discussed in detail and assigned to all of these characters, and at first, Donny’s role was not even mentioned. It was at this point where I began to re-read the story during our discussion and take special note of all of Donny’s actions and dialogue. At this time someone (I apologize to this person because I cannot remember who it was) brought up Daisy’s outburst of “Doesn’t Donny ever get blamed?” and induced my revelation- that Donny has much more power in the story than it appears and is, in truth, just as manipulative as Cal.

Following this realization, the details of the story began to simply add up. The first sign of this that I noticed is Donny’s change of appearance, usually shaggy and casual, to being “unusually sober and subdued” when going to meet the psychologist and even going to the extent of combing his hair. In this instance, Donny takes control of his situation and avoids punishment by using the psychologist’s diagnosis of low “self-worth” to his own advantage. Donny also plays his situation with Cal in a similar way by using the fact that he has a tutor as a “crutch” while at school in order to avoid all responsibility. Cal is actually not the one who leads Donny astray; he only joins in as a second voice to outnumber the reasoning of his mother. Free from his parents and even above them with Cal’s support, Donny begins to take risks and attempts to push the limits of his school. Even when he is expelled for having alcohol in his locker, Donny does not realize the consequences of his actions. Donny denies the accusations against him and attempts to clear his name with a transparent and childish lie. Then this fails he simply opts to attend a different school. It is only when his parents finally refuse to bend to his will and send him to a public school does Donny begin to realize what he has done.

However, instead of taking responsibility, Donny acts “exhausted and defeated” and lashes out with one final, selfish act: running away. Rather than facing his responsibilities, Donny chooses to flee and leaves behind him an echo of pain and doubt, as shown through Daisy’s actions. Through this act Donny also ensures that a similar cycle occur with his younger sister, who although was once an eager member of the family, became neglected during her parents ordeal with her brother.

On a completely separate note, this week I also read the following short stories: “War Buddies” by Joan Silber, “The Company of Men” by Jan Ellison, and “Gringos” by Ariel Dorfman. I would highly recommend “Gringos” to others.

Summer Reading

Looking back on this past summer, I realized that I have spent much more time reading than many high-school students would like to admit. In fact, some of my fonder memories of the past few months came from reading on planes, on road trips, and on days where I simply did not want to leave the comfort of my own bed as a means to escape reality for a short time. On such occasions I was able to complete the following books:

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky

Peace Like a River by Leif Enger

Old School by Tobias Wolff

Devil May Care by Sebastian Faulks

Volk’s Game by Brent Ghelfi

For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemmingway

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

In my mind, however, Ernest Hemmingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls stands out simply for one reason: I was unable to put it down. That sentence is not entirely true; I did stand up on one occasion, but only for the purpose of turning on the lamp beside my bed. After finishing my grueling day-long reading marathon, I could only wonder why I had spurned the invitation of a sunny California day in order to focus on what would be considered by some as a chore.

The answer was actually purely circumstance which enabled my mind to be engrossed by Hemmingway’s tragic story. The first of these circumstances stemmed from my visit to Spain following my freshman year. Hemmingway’s descriptions were able to come alive in my head when combined with my mental pictures of several of the areas mentioned in the story. The trip also supplied me with a basic appreciation of Spanish culture and customs, which allowed me to understand the actions and treatment of many of the characters. This understanding was especially invaluable concerning the character Rafael, the Gypsy in Pablo’s guerilla camp. It was, however, most helpful in providing me with knowledge of the background of the story: The Spanish Civil War. The other event, which was the basis of my choice for reading the book in the first place, was reading The Sun Also Rises last year in English III. I had almost immediately fallen in love with Hemmingway’s style and had become determined to read another of his works. For Whom the Bell Tolls did not disappoint me in terms of the distinctive style I had come to expect from The Sun Also Rises, including incredible alcoholism and constant use of “obscenities.”

In truth, these circumstances were only necessary in order to increase my appreciation of the story and help me struggle through the opening chapters. In the book, Hemmingway creates stunning images of war and the horror it brings, such as Pablo’s actions against the fascists in their home town, as told by Pilar, and El Sordo’s last stand on top of a hill surrounded by fascist troops and aircraft. The realism of such scenes drew me right into the fray, just as Hemmingway was during the war. The story’s characters, however, are in no way out-staged by these scenes and although many pages are spent purely on character development, none of it comes remotely close to being dull. I soon found myself being attached to certain characters and drawn into the romanticism of the Republican cause. In fact, I began to delude myself into thinking that the love story between Robert and Maria would have a happy ending, even though there was constant foreshadowing of Robert’s fate, and was utterly shocked upon his getting wounded and deciding to remain behind. I encountered a similar moment of shock when Anselmo meets a seemingly unnecessary end when being struck by shrapnel from the bridge he and Robert had destroyed. Now, having but the book down nearly a month ago and having regained control of the emotions that were caused by it, I would definitely recommend it, and will probably read it a second time hoping for a happy ending (666).