Jason Compson is a jerk. It’s indisputable. You can probably justify his actions by pointing out that his mother is psychotic and his family is torn apart but you can’t deny it altogether. It is so easy to hate Jason, but there is a catch to every jerk on the planet, and Jason’s is one that makes him a philosophical problem in his own right. It doesn't quite change the fact that he's a jerk, but you might hesitate as your foot goes to kick him.
Jason is an outright jerk. He is cruel, racist, controlling, manipulative, and disrespectful. From the start we get the sense that Jason is the nicest person: “Once a bitch always a bitch” (180). Good first impression! His attitude toward other people is probably his worst quality. We see this attitude best in his interaction with Quentin and Luster. He is always cold and degrading to Quentin, even stealing the money her mother sends and calling her a slut. He taunts Luster with the show tickets and refuses to give him the tickets even though he has no reason not to let Luster use them. His behavior toward Caddy, though perhaps more understandable, is also openly hostile and cruel. He refuses to let Caddy see Quentin even when she offers him money and continuously sends money to support her daughter. He even implies that her money comes from prostitution. And while a small part of us cheers every time Jason tells off his mother, he is still being disrespectful to the one person that gives him credit. He is obviously a bluntly distasteful person.
We do have to give Jason a little credit for being smart. He has devised a scheme where he embezzles Caddy’s money gifts to Quentin without his mother or niece having the slightest idea of how much money he is acquiring. Now we can’t hate him for being stupid, but hating him for scheming his family is even better. As we learn more about him, we discern that Jason’s problems go far beyond irritability and bitterness. He also has a control complex that has become intertwined with his obsession with money and the stock market. He is acutely aware and quick to remind the family that he is the man and sole provider of the family, in a sense also reminding them that he is in charge. He plays mind games with his mother and Quentin, further bursting his ego. There is Jason in a nutshell. But with every bitter, emotionally disturbed sociopath there is a catch that redeems him ever so slightly.
So what could possibly redeem Jason in anyone’s eyes? Despite his open hostility toward his family, he works every day for money that not only feeds his stock addiction but also supports his family. So why do we care? Because he doesn’t have to do it. He obviously has no strong emotional ties to Quentin or his mother, so we know supporting his family is more for his benefit than theirs. In essence, he supports his family to cater to his own controlling and manipulative nature. But he still supports them. Oddly enough, he reminds me of Mrs. Joe from Great Expectations, who likewise supports a family she treats terribly. Now the debate begins. Is Jason at least sort of a good guy because he supports the family? If you are a member of Kant’s school of thought, Jason is still a jerk. According to Kant, it’s the intentions that matter. Jason’s intentions are obviously not honorable, so to the Kants of the world, Jason is still a jerk. Then there are the more…Machiavellian types. In their eyes, the ends justify the means. Therefore, Jason is a good guy in the sense that the family stays “afloat” because Jason brings home money. Both points of view have decent philosophical arguments going for them.
So it begs the question, who is really right? I agree with Kant personally—it’s about the intentions. Jason uses his family relative well-being to support his addiction to control, which, in my opinion, disqualifies him as a good person. He also counters any economic help with his constant battery of the family’s emotions, defeating the purpose of keeping them economically healthy in the first place. I admit that there is something to be said that he continuously works for and lives with people he doesn’t care about, but it is not enough to redeem him in my eyes. Jason is still a jerk, but maybe I’ll hold back just a bit when I get the chance to kick him in the shins. (747).
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Twenty Paces to the Right....OUCH was that a golf ball?!
In the first two sections of The Sound and the Fury, the narrators use certain key indicators that give us insight into the sometimes impenetrable parts of the novel. Benjy and Quentin are both mentally unstable in their own ways. Quentin is severely depressed and Benjy is developmentally challenged. These difficulties make it hard to understand their trains of thought. Luckily for us, both narrators repeat phrases and details that help us follow the complex thought processes of the first two narrators.
Repeated phrases in Benjy’s narrative serve the dual purpose of helping us follow the story as well as revealing his mental state at key moments. Skimming the first pages of Benjy’s narrative is a scary thing as a reader. Horrified thoughts of “hey why is that in italics?!” come to mind. Luckily, we have key phrases to guide us. For example, in the first pages of his section, Benjy’s consciousness switches between the present time and a memory with Caddy. We can discern which time period is which by noting that Luster only appears in the present time, while Caddy is only present in Benjy’s memories. Because Benjy cannot talk or comprehend the things around him, we do not gain much insight into Benjy’s thoughts or emotions through his own voice. Whenever Benjy is upset, however, other people are always telling him to hush or stop moaning, so we know something unsettled him—another indicator. Repeated phrases in Benjy’s narrative also prepare the readers for events later in the novel. The most important of these phrases is “Caddy smelled like trees”. We know that Benjy likes when Caddy smells like trees and always notices when she does since he repeats the phrase whenever he thinks about her. It makes sense to us then, later, when Benjy freaks out when Caddy is wearing perfume. The repeated phrase helps us understand that Benjy associates “his” Caddy with the smell of trees and dislikes Caddy’s changing life. Benjy’s narrative is so convoluted that Faulkner had to give us hints that help us to follow the complex narrative style.
Special indicators also help us follow Quentin’s erratic narrative. In Quentin’s narrative, the indicators are usually repeated phrases that show the things that are tormenting him. Without reading the clues, we would never know why Quentin is driven to suicide. Quentin repeats the phrase “no sister” over and over so we learn that Caddy is one of the things that is weighing on his conscience. He also repeats the phrase “Dalton Ames” endlessly throughout the narrative. When we find out about his confrontation with Dalton Ames later on, we already understand that the experience weighs on Quentin’s mind. He also dwells on the fact that the family sold Benjy’s pasture to pay his Harvard tuition. Because he repeatedly thinks about this fact, we infer that he may feel guilty or spiteful toward his education since it hurts his brother. The plot indicators in Quentin’s narrative help us understand the reasons for Quentin’s depression.
In a complex novel like The Sound and the Fury, authors try to plant key hints that help us understand the plot and characters. Without character indicators, we wouldn’t be able to follow the direction of Benjy’s consciousness. Without repeating phrases, we wouldn’t be able to understand Quentin’s depression. Luckily for us, Faulkner thought to use hints and italics to help us understand and enjoy the complexities of The Sound and the Fury. (573)
Repeated phrases in Benjy’s narrative serve the dual purpose of helping us follow the story as well as revealing his mental state at key moments. Skimming the first pages of Benjy’s narrative is a scary thing as a reader. Horrified thoughts of “hey why is that in italics?!” come to mind. Luckily, we have key phrases to guide us. For example, in the first pages of his section, Benjy’s consciousness switches between the present time and a memory with Caddy. We can discern which time period is which by noting that Luster only appears in the present time, while Caddy is only present in Benjy’s memories. Because Benjy cannot talk or comprehend the things around him, we do not gain much insight into Benjy’s thoughts or emotions through his own voice. Whenever Benjy is upset, however, other people are always telling him to hush or stop moaning, so we know something unsettled him—another indicator. Repeated phrases in Benjy’s narrative also prepare the readers for events later in the novel. The most important of these phrases is “Caddy smelled like trees”. We know that Benjy likes when Caddy smells like trees and always notices when she does since he repeats the phrase whenever he thinks about her. It makes sense to us then, later, when Benjy freaks out when Caddy is wearing perfume. The repeated phrase helps us understand that Benjy associates “his” Caddy with the smell of trees and dislikes Caddy’s changing life. Benjy’s narrative is so convoluted that Faulkner had to give us hints that help us to follow the complex narrative style.
Special indicators also help us follow Quentin’s erratic narrative. In Quentin’s narrative, the indicators are usually repeated phrases that show the things that are tormenting him. Without reading the clues, we would never know why Quentin is driven to suicide. Quentin repeats the phrase “no sister” over and over so we learn that Caddy is one of the things that is weighing on his conscience. He also repeats the phrase “Dalton Ames” endlessly throughout the narrative. When we find out about his confrontation with Dalton Ames later on, we already understand that the experience weighs on Quentin’s mind. He also dwells on the fact that the family sold Benjy’s pasture to pay his Harvard tuition. Because he repeatedly thinks about this fact, we infer that he may feel guilty or spiteful toward his education since it hurts his brother. The plot indicators in Quentin’s narrative help us understand the reasons for Quentin’s depression.
In a complex novel like The Sound and the Fury, authors try to plant key hints that help us understand the plot and characters. Without character indicators, we wouldn’t be able to follow the direction of Benjy’s consciousness. Without repeating phrases, we wouldn’t be able to understand Quentin’s depression. Luckily for us, Faulkner thought to use hints and italics to help us understand and enjoy the complexities of The Sound and the Fury. (573)
Sunday, October 14, 2007
This is Why Chores Are Dangerous
In her short story “I Stand Here Ironing”, Tillie Olsen follows a busy mother as she reflects on her relationship with her eldest daughter, Emily. We quickly learn that the mother cannot always connect with her daughter when she says, “You think because I am her mother I have a key, or that in some way you could use me as a key?” (3). We also sense that she feels that she has made mistakes with her daughter when she says “I will become engulfed with all I did or did not do, with what should have been and what cannot be helped” (4). The big question for the mother is whether or not she could have done more for her daughter, whose life is a constant struggle. We follow the mother as she reflects on Emily’s life and strongly questions whether she has failed her now nineteen-year-old daughter.
After Emily was born, her mother saw her as a “miracle”. She loved Emily for her beautiful, baby-ish qualities and dedicated her life to Emily’s happiness. Unfortunately the family’s poor circumstance caused Emily’s father to leave and forced her mother to work while Emily stayed with a neighbor, “to whom Emily was no miracle at all” (9). Eventually, the mother had to send Emily to live with her ex-husband’s family until she earned more money. Instead of living with her mother who was dedicated solely to her, Emily stayed with people who did not care for her in the way only her mother could. As we might expect, this separation takes a terrible toll on Emily.
The mother remembers that when Emily returned home, she had lost her childlike qualities, even though she was still only two-years-old. The mother sent Emily to nursery school because Emily was “old enough, so they said” and because she herself had to work (12). The mother says that even though she sensed the school was a bad place for Emily, she had no choice of schools and sent her anyway. As the mother feared, Emily was miserable at school and even feigned sickness to avoid going. The mother at this point in her thoughts notes the difference between Emily and her other children. Again, the mother feels guilty that Emily was unhappy and she could do nothing. Unlike her other children, however, Emily never threw tantrums about going to school nor openly said she didn’t want to go. This recollection disturbs the mother. She wonders why Emily was different and fears that she scared Emily into obeying her. She then remembers what another neighbor once said to her: “you should smile at Emily more when you look at her” (17). From there, she reflects on how she was different with her children. With Emily, she didn’t smile as she did with the others and now neither did Emily. When she was left alone at night, she would call out to her mother and once threw the clock into the hall because its ticking made her nervous. When she had nightmares, her mother was stern and told her to go back to sleep because she was too tired to sit with her. Emerging from her reflections, the mother regrets how she treated Emily now that Emily refuses to be comforted at night. She feels that Emily now resists comfort because she was denied it for so long. We see that Emily’s mother had no idea how to help her and, in desperation, sometimes made matters worse for her daughter.
Eventually, people at a clinic convinced the mother to send Emily to a group home in the country where she will better cared for Despite her mother’s best intentions, Emily did not improve at the home. The mother was not even allowed to be near Emiliy when she visited and, after eight months of struggle, the mother and her new husband got Emily released from the home. With Emily back, the mother tried to give her more love, but Emily was unreceptive. At this point, the mother could not even make up for the love she never gave. Emily again struggled in school and tried to stay home, and sometimes her mother let her now that she was not working. Even with the mother not working, Emily is emotionally detached and resents her new baby sister, who breaks and loses her things. Looking back at the children, the mother says, “I have edged away from it, that poisonous feeling between them, that terrible balancing of hurts and needs I had to do between the two, and did so badly those earlier years” (40). It seems to the mother that Emily shrank away from her family even more once the other children were born. She could not give Emily the love she needed and manage the household at the same time. With more children and less time, we expect to hear that Emily’s situation worsened as the distance between her and her mother grew.
Instead of worsening, though, Emily’s situation actually improved slightly as she got older. Her mother remembers how she discovered her talent for impressions, even winning a talent show and being asked to perform at other schools. She also remembers how strong and confident Emily seemed on stage and that she could hardly recognize her daughter who was usually so shy. Despite the improvements, Emily was “as imprisoned in her difference as she had been in anonymity” (47). But as we emerge from the mother’s memories, it seems that Emily is now a stronger person than she was as a child.
At the end of the story, the mother escapes from her reflections and we meet the teenage Emily. The mother says “this is one of her communicative nights and she tells [her] everything and nothing as she fixes a plate of food” (51). When she sees Emily, the mother wonders why she was worrying in the first place, because Emily is happy now. She summarizes every bad thing in Emily’s life in her head, everything she did wrong and everything that was beyond her own control. In the end, the mother decides to let Emily be, because even if she does not reach her full potential, she is still a beautiful person. In this decision, she also lets herself be with happy with her daughter, without regret and without guilt.
Discussion Questions:
1. Do you think the mother was responsible for Emily’s problems as a child?
2. Do you think Emily would have had problems had she not been sent away?
3. Could the mother have done more to help or prevent Emily’s problems?
4. The narrator refers to a “you” who suggested that she help with Emily. Who do you think the “you” is?
5. The reaching question. The story seems somewhat unfinished at the end. Do you think Emily’s state will continue to improve or will she always struggle with her anxiety?
After Emily was born, her mother saw her as a “miracle”. She loved Emily for her beautiful, baby-ish qualities and dedicated her life to Emily’s happiness. Unfortunately the family’s poor circumstance caused Emily’s father to leave and forced her mother to work while Emily stayed with a neighbor, “to whom Emily was no miracle at all” (9). Eventually, the mother had to send Emily to live with her ex-husband’s family until she earned more money. Instead of living with her mother who was dedicated solely to her, Emily stayed with people who did not care for her in the way only her mother could. As we might expect, this separation takes a terrible toll on Emily.
The mother remembers that when Emily returned home, she had lost her childlike qualities, even though she was still only two-years-old. The mother sent Emily to nursery school because Emily was “old enough, so they said” and because she herself had to work (12). The mother says that even though she sensed the school was a bad place for Emily, she had no choice of schools and sent her anyway. As the mother feared, Emily was miserable at school and even feigned sickness to avoid going. The mother at this point in her thoughts notes the difference between Emily and her other children. Again, the mother feels guilty that Emily was unhappy and she could do nothing. Unlike her other children, however, Emily never threw tantrums about going to school nor openly said she didn’t want to go. This recollection disturbs the mother. She wonders why Emily was different and fears that she scared Emily into obeying her. She then remembers what another neighbor once said to her: “you should smile at Emily more when you look at her” (17). From there, she reflects on how she was different with her children. With Emily, she didn’t smile as she did with the others and now neither did Emily. When she was left alone at night, she would call out to her mother and once threw the clock into the hall because its ticking made her nervous. When she had nightmares, her mother was stern and told her to go back to sleep because she was too tired to sit with her. Emerging from her reflections, the mother regrets how she treated Emily now that Emily refuses to be comforted at night. She feels that Emily now resists comfort because she was denied it for so long. We see that Emily’s mother had no idea how to help her and, in desperation, sometimes made matters worse for her daughter.
Eventually, people at a clinic convinced the mother to send Emily to a group home in the country where she will better cared for Despite her mother’s best intentions, Emily did not improve at the home. The mother was not even allowed to be near Emiliy when she visited and, after eight months of struggle, the mother and her new husband got Emily released from the home. With Emily back, the mother tried to give her more love, but Emily was unreceptive. At this point, the mother could not even make up for the love she never gave. Emily again struggled in school and tried to stay home, and sometimes her mother let her now that she was not working. Even with the mother not working, Emily is emotionally detached and resents her new baby sister, who breaks and loses her things. Looking back at the children, the mother says, “I have edged away from it, that poisonous feeling between them, that terrible balancing of hurts and needs I had to do between the two, and did so badly those earlier years” (40). It seems to the mother that Emily shrank away from her family even more once the other children were born. She could not give Emily the love she needed and manage the household at the same time. With more children and less time, we expect to hear that Emily’s situation worsened as the distance between her and her mother grew.
Instead of worsening, though, Emily’s situation actually improved slightly as she got older. Her mother remembers how she discovered her talent for impressions, even winning a talent show and being asked to perform at other schools. She also remembers how strong and confident Emily seemed on stage and that she could hardly recognize her daughter who was usually so shy. Despite the improvements, Emily was “as imprisoned in her difference as she had been in anonymity” (47). But as we emerge from the mother’s memories, it seems that Emily is now a stronger person than she was as a child.
At the end of the story, the mother escapes from her reflections and we meet the teenage Emily. The mother says “this is one of her communicative nights and she tells [her] everything and nothing as she fixes a plate of food” (51). When she sees Emily, the mother wonders why she was worrying in the first place, because Emily is happy now. She summarizes every bad thing in Emily’s life in her head, everything she did wrong and everything that was beyond her own control. In the end, the mother decides to let Emily be, because even if she does not reach her full potential, she is still a beautiful person. In this decision, she also lets herself be with happy with her daughter, without regret and without guilt.
Discussion Questions:
1. Do you think the mother was responsible for Emily’s problems as a child?
2. Do you think Emily would have had problems had she not been sent away?
3. Could the mother have done more to help or prevent Emily’s problems?
4. The narrator refers to a “you” who suggested that she help with Emily. Who do you think the “you” is?
5. The reaching question. The story seems somewhat unfinished at the end. Do you think Emily’s state will continue to improve or will she always struggle with her anxiety?
Monday, October 8, 2007
This Stuff's Gettin Pretty Heavy Guys....Guys?
In “The Things They Carried”, Tim O’Brien describes the double nature of soldiers at war, exposing both the feeling and unfeeling sides of humanity at war. By showing both of these sides through the men and Jimmy Cross, O’Brien shows the reality that most soldiers embrace their unfeeling sides as a self-defense mechanism.
The soldiers obviously have what we might consider a more humane and feeling side. The most obvious example is Jimmy Cross and his affection for his men and Martha. After Ted Lavender’s dies, Jimmy is overcome with shame and even starts to cry as he mulls over the “fact” that Lavender’s death is his fault because, as he sees it, “he had loved Martha more than his men” (42). Furthermore, he cries because he realizes that he and the woman he loves are in two completely different worlds, a fact that hurts him to the bone. The other soldiers commonly feel shame as well. After particularly terrifying skirmishes, the soldiers often emerge from their battle spots ashamed of the horror and weakness that they submitted to during battle: they “stupid promises to themselves and to Go and to their mothers and fathers, hoping not to die” (65). However, after both of these events, Cross’s and the soldiers’ breakdowns, the characters retreat to their unfeeling sides to avoid the pain and suffering that comes with feeling the full pain of the war.
The other side, the unfeeling side, of the soldiers’ personalities is the emotionally numbing response to the horrors of the war. It’s not that the soldiers don’t actually feel anything, but sometimes just separate themselves from the death and pain around them. Immediately after Lavender’s death, for example, the men don’t let themselves mourn for their comrade. They, including Cross, instead sit around smoking his cigarettes and then burn a nearby village. Kiowa later admits that he can’t be sad about Lavender’s death, even though he wants to be, and is mostly just “pleased to be alive” (60). They also hide their fear from each other. As the narrator describes it, “they carried the soldier’s greatest fear, which was the fear of blushing. Men killed, and died, because they were embarrassed not to” (76). After even the worst skirmishes, the men won’t admit how afraid they were to each other. They make jokes that hint how scared they were, only to be countered with another joke that allows them to pretend it wasn’t that scary. The soldiers all put on “poses” to mask their fear: “Some carried themselves with a sort of wistful resignation, others with pride or stiff soldierly discipline or good humor or macho zeal” (67). They also act cruel to separate themselves from the war. Mitchell Sanders, for example, cuts off the thumb of a dead boy to have as a keepsake and the other men also kick corpses and talk about death insensitively, making it less real and terrifying.
We get insight into how the men convert themselves to feel this way through Jimmy Cross. After Lavender dies and he tries to disconnect from Martha, Cross realizes why the men act the way they do—it hurts too much not to. In the end, Cross embraces this unfeeling side, rejecting, or simply hiding, his emotions. He represents, in certain ways, the path of every soldier who has to let go of the pain and suppress his emotions, often for his own sake.
(570)
The soldiers obviously have what we might consider a more humane and feeling side. The most obvious example is Jimmy Cross and his affection for his men and Martha. After Ted Lavender’s dies, Jimmy is overcome with shame and even starts to cry as he mulls over the “fact” that Lavender’s death is his fault because, as he sees it, “he had loved Martha more than his men” (42). Furthermore, he cries because he realizes that he and the woman he loves are in two completely different worlds, a fact that hurts him to the bone. The other soldiers commonly feel shame as well. After particularly terrifying skirmishes, the soldiers often emerge from their battle spots ashamed of the horror and weakness that they submitted to during battle: they “stupid promises to themselves and to Go and to their mothers and fathers, hoping not to die” (65). However, after both of these events, Cross’s and the soldiers’ breakdowns, the characters retreat to their unfeeling sides to avoid the pain and suffering that comes with feeling the full pain of the war.
The other side, the unfeeling side, of the soldiers’ personalities is the emotionally numbing response to the horrors of the war. It’s not that the soldiers don’t actually feel anything, but sometimes just separate themselves from the death and pain around them. Immediately after Lavender’s death, for example, the men don’t let themselves mourn for their comrade. They, including Cross, instead sit around smoking his cigarettes and then burn a nearby village. Kiowa later admits that he can’t be sad about Lavender’s death, even though he wants to be, and is mostly just “pleased to be alive” (60). They also hide their fear from each other. As the narrator describes it, “they carried the soldier’s greatest fear, which was the fear of blushing. Men killed, and died, because they were embarrassed not to” (76). After even the worst skirmishes, the men won’t admit how afraid they were to each other. They make jokes that hint how scared they were, only to be countered with another joke that allows them to pretend it wasn’t that scary. The soldiers all put on “poses” to mask their fear: “Some carried themselves with a sort of wistful resignation, others with pride or stiff soldierly discipline or good humor or macho zeal” (67). They also act cruel to separate themselves from the war. Mitchell Sanders, for example, cuts off the thumb of a dead boy to have as a keepsake and the other men also kick corpses and talk about death insensitively, making it less real and terrifying.
We get insight into how the men convert themselves to feel this way through Jimmy Cross. After Lavender dies and he tries to disconnect from Martha, Cross realizes why the men act the way they do—it hurts too much not to. In the end, Cross embraces this unfeeling side, rejecting, or simply hiding, his emotions. He represents, in certain ways, the path of every soldier who has to let go of the pain and suppress his emotions, often for his own sake.
(570)
Thursday, September 27, 2007
One Man's Adulterous Wife is Another Man's Dream Girl
In his novel Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy continually switches the perspective of the narrator, following the deeds and thoughts of different characters and, in doing so, making the dramatics of the novel even more interesting. Throughout all of "Part One" the perspective changes from that of Stepan to Levin to Princess Shcherbatskaya to Kitty to Vronsky to Anna and back again. In many cases, the characters who give us the most insight into the inner workings of the plot and characters are he ones who are not yet directly involved in the novel’s central conflict, like Stepan and Kitty. We as readers reap the benefits of these different perspectives by seeing, from all sides, the approaching conflict between Anna, Vronsky, and the characters that surround them.
The story starts from the perspective of Stepan Arkadyevich. For the first few chapters, we follow Stepan and discover the background of the Oblonsky family, including their tainted history of adultery. Quickly we are introduced to the theme of adultery that will obviously become a central theme as the story progresses. Through Stepan's own descriptions of his past and personality, we learn that he is, in many ways, a simple aristocrat. He admits that his beliefs are not based off of substantial and also that he is a man of habit, reading the same newspaper columns every day. He does state, however, that he is rather intelligent and naturally gifted but was often too lazy in school to be a really exceptional student. In fact, we do catch a glimpse of his thoughtful side when he reflects on his infidelities and becomes angry with himself for the little things he has done to hurt his wife. Though sometimes learning about a character through his or her own perspective can bear false impressions, the impressions we get from Stepan of his own character are honest to the point of even being self-critical, which in itself tells more about his personality.
Another character who we learn about through Stepan’s eyes is Dolly, his wife. As Stepan describes her, she is “forever fussing and worrying” as well as “rather simple” (5). She also cares deeply about her children, at one point saying to Stepan, “I think of the children, and for that reason I would do anything in the world to save them” (16). Because she is so dedicated to her children, her marital problems with Stepan plague her even more because she does not know how to save the children from the pain of their parents’ feud. While she is certainly a very complex character, we initially see Dolly as Stepan sees her, concerned and broken by her husband’s infidelity.
Through Stepan’s perspective we learn about another complex character, Levin. Our first impression of Levin is that he is very shy, making him appear somewhat weak, especially compared to the outgoing Stepan. Even Stepan is aware of his friend’s “sensitive and irritable shyness” (21). It quickly becomes clear that Stepan and Levin are very different in their personalities and lifestyles though “it seemed to each of them that the life he led himself was the only real life, and Th. life led by his friend was a mere illusion” (22). Levin, unlike Stepan, is a hardworking farmer who lives in the country, making him odd company for an aristocratic socialite like Stepan. The two men often see ridicule in the other’s lifestyle, both laughing at the life and priorities of the other. “The difference,” Oblonsky says, “was that Oblonsky, as he was doing the same as everyone did, laughed complacently and good-humoredly, while Levin laughed without complacency and sometimes angrily” (22). Levin also appears to be somewhat child-like from Stepan’s perspective due to his new “phases”, as Stepan calls them, and his undying love for Kitty. It is not until we follow the story from Levin’s perspective that we see him in a new light. From his own perspective, we see that Levin is under confident in many ways, especially when it comes to his love for Kitty. Also, we get the sense that Levin is shy only because he dislikes the city and feels uncomfortable around city folk, which goes along with Stepan’s descriptions of their friendship. These varying impressions of Levin demonstrate the benefit of having multiple perspectives early in a novel--we get to see the characters from many different angles, not just how one person sees them or how they see themselves.
In the first section of the novel, Tolstoy continually changes the perspective of the narrator to that of several different characters, allowing us to see the characters as “whole people” and not just as specific impressions. Stepan Arkadyevich’s descriptions of himself and other characters become our first look at the characters and how different people in this Russian society see each other differently. Stepan’s descriptions of Levin and Levin’s description of himself also show us how different or misconstrued these first impressions can be. In a novel like Anna Karenina, where social classes and standards play a key role in the plot, the different perspectives allow us to see not only who a character really is, but also, and possibly more importantly, how he or she is viewed in society. (871)
The story starts from the perspective of Stepan Arkadyevich. For the first few chapters, we follow Stepan and discover the background of the Oblonsky family, including their tainted history of adultery. Quickly we are introduced to the theme of adultery that will obviously become a central theme as the story progresses. Through Stepan's own descriptions of his past and personality, we learn that he is, in many ways, a simple aristocrat. He admits that his beliefs are not based off of substantial and also that he is a man of habit, reading the same newspaper columns every day. He does state, however, that he is rather intelligent and naturally gifted but was often too lazy in school to be a really exceptional student. In fact, we do catch a glimpse of his thoughtful side when he reflects on his infidelities and becomes angry with himself for the little things he has done to hurt his wife. Though sometimes learning about a character through his or her own perspective can bear false impressions, the impressions we get from Stepan of his own character are honest to the point of even being self-critical, which in itself tells more about his personality.
Another character who we learn about through Stepan’s eyes is Dolly, his wife. As Stepan describes her, she is “forever fussing and worrying” as well as “rather simple” (5). She also cares deeply about her children, at one point saying to Stepan, “I think of the children, and for that reason I would do anything in the world to save them” (16). Because she is so dedicated to her children, her marital problems with Stepan plague her even more because she does not know how to save the children from the pain of their parents’ feud. While she is certainly a very complex character, we initially see Dolly as Stepan sees her, concerned and broken by her husband’s infidelity.
Through Stepan’s perspective we learn about another complex character, Levin. Our first impression of Levin is that he is very shy, making him appear somewhat weak, especially compared to the outgoing Stepan. Even Stepan is aware of his friend’s “sensitive and irritable shyness” (21). It quickly becomes clear that Stepan and Levin are very different in their personalities and lifestyles though “it seemed to each of them that the life he led himself was the only real life, and Th. life led by his friend was a mere illusion” (22). Levin, unlike Stepan, is a hardworking farmer who lives in the country, making him odd company for an aristocratic socialite like Stepan. The two men often see ridicule in the other’s lifestyle, both laughing at the life and priorities of the other. “The difference,” Oblonsky says, “was that Oblonsky, as he was doing the same as everyone did, laughed complacently and good-humoredly, while Levin laughed without complacency and sometimes angrily” (22). Levin also appears to be somewhat child-like from Stepan’s perspective due to his new “phases”, as Stepan calls them, and his undying love for Kitty. It is not until we follow the story from Levin’s perspective that we see him in a new light. From his own perspective, we see that Levin is under confident in many ways, especially when it comes to his love for Kitty. Also, we get the sense that Levin is shy only because he dislikes the city and feels uncomfortable around city folk, which goes along with Stepan’s descriptions of their friendship. These varying impressions of Levin demonstrate the benefit of having multiple perspectives early in a novel--we get to see the characters from many different angles, not just how one person sees them or how they see themselves.
In the first section of the novel, Tolstoy continually changes the perspective of the narrator to that of several different characters, allowing us to see the characters as “whole people” and not just as specific impressions. Stepan Arkadyevich’s descriptions of himself and other characters become our first look at the characters and how different people in this Russian society see each other differently. Stepan’s descriptions of Levin and Levin’s description of himself also show us how different or misconstrued these first impressions can be. In a novel like Anna Karenina, where social classes and standards play a key role in the plot, the different perspectives allow us to see not only who a character really is, but also, and possibly more importantly, how he or she is viewed in society. (871)
Friday, September 21, 2007
So I Found a Good Man, but then He Shot Me
In “A Good Man Is Hard to Find”, Flannery O’Connor presents a cast of unlikable characters to build up our hopes of finding “a good man.” The family whose story we follow is everything we wouldn’t want, but would probably expect, in a family. It is the stereotypical “road trip story” family, with characters who cannot get along and bicker incessantly. This story’s stereotypical family is made up of the starry-eyed grandmother, the over-stressed parents, and the hyperactive children. They make for one hell of a road trip.
They do, however, serve a purpose in how much they annoy us as readers. They drive us so crazy that we join the grandmother in her everlasting search for “a good man”. Like the grandmother, we as readers long to find a character to latch onto and relate with, something we cannot do with any member of the family. In this longing, however, we too become blind to the true nature of the characters we meet.
There is another reason, however, that this family makes us more vulnerable to sympathize with the “bad guy” of the story. Every member of the family is a “one-dimensional” character whereas the Misfit has depth and many dimensions to his personality. The father, for example, is only the character we expect him to be. He is annoyed by his mother, impatient with his children, and sharp-tempered, like for example when he yells at the children to shut up in the car. Each member of the family fits perfectly into his or her own stereotype, leaving us yearning for a complex, interesting character whose life and actions surprise us.
So here we are, readers craving a character who not only is “a good man” and we like, but also one that has to break out of his stereotype and be an intriguing presence in the story. Enter the Misfit.
The Misfit first appears when the family is at its most vulnerable. When he and his lackeys first arrive on scene, the Misfit appears to be a kind stranger who fortunately came to the family’s aid after the crash. Surprisingly, the grandmother’s attitude, and even our attitudes, toward the strangers don’t change even when we find out that the kind stranger is actually the Misfit that the grandmother saw on television. The grandmother quickly assumes that the Misfit is just misunderstood and would never hurt her. We as readers hesitate to trust him once we learn his real identity, but we still are inclined to trust him, probably because the grandmother still does. O’Connor portrays the grandmother as a child-like character, sweet and innocent. As anyone who has read The Emperor’s New Clothes knows, children are famous for their ability to perceive the true natures of people. Since the grandmother is so child-like in her own naïve way, we assume that she must be able to see into the soul of the Misfit, beyond his sins and obviously dangerous qualities. However, as the events of the story continue to unfold, this hope for “a good man” fades and can no longer keep us attached to the Misfit.
When it becomes obvious that the Misfit is not actually “a good man” and does actually mean to kill the family, we as readers can no longer so readily accept the grandmother’s hope and faith, but we can still hold on to the idea that the Misfit could be the complex character we’ve been looking for. The Misfit is not your average, everyday “let’s rob and kill them ‘cause we can” kind of criminal. As he starts talking about his past, that fact becomes clear. While talking to the grandmother, he acknowledges that his parents were the “finest people in the world” (90). This conversation is the first sign that the Misfit does not fit his respective stereotype as the other characters do. Next, he tells the grandmother about his first arrest and how he was thrown in jail for killing his father (who actually died from the flu). He is the first character whose past is revealed, which gives him yet another dimension more than the other characters.
After Bobby Lee returns with Bailey’s shirt, our hopes are nearly completely gone that the Misfit will turn out to be the good man we’ve all been waiting for. Our perceptiveness, however, is still clouded when the Misfit and the grandmother start to talk about religion and punishment. The Misfit confesses that the reason he kills people is he “can’t make what all I done wrong fit what all I gone through in punishment” (130). We also gain insight into his cynical religious convictions when he says, “If [Jesus] didn’t [raise the dead] then it’s nothing for you do but enjoy the few minutes you got left the best way you can—by killing somebody or burning down his house or doing some other meanness” (135). His complexities and depth are so clear and so attractive because we see his potential for good and again start to hope that, even though he has killed people, he can still undergo a change of heart and redeem himself as a character. These hopes seem realized as the Misfit’s rough exterior starts to crack and he nearly begins to cry. The grandmother goes to far, however, by touching his shoulder and waking him up from his trance-like state where his true nature was being revealed.
So our hopes get shot down along with the grandmother, as gruesome as that sounds. O’Connor sets us up to long for “a good man”, running a parallel course with the grandmother into the hands of the very person we are told to fear from the first paragraph. We are fooled, however, by his complex nature and atypical past into thinking that he may actually be the character we have been looking for all along. But as the story ends, we are ruined in exactly the same way as the grandmother, by thinking we could trust a man who may just be that “good man” that is so hard to find. (1,011)
Updated: Add the word count
They do, however, serve a purpose in how much they annoy us as readers. They drive us so crazy that we join the grandmother in her everlasting search for “a good man”. Like the grandmother, we as readers long to find a character to latch onto and relate with, something we cannot do with any member of the family. In this longing, however, we too become blind to the true nature of the characters we meet.
There is another reason, however, that this family makes us more vulnerable to sympathize with the “bad guy” of the story. Every member of the family is a “one-dimensional” character whereas the Misfit has depth and many dimensions to his personality. The father, for example, is only the character we expect him to be. He is annoyed by his mother, impatient with his children, and sharp-tempered, like for example when he yells at the children to shut up in the car. Each member of the family fits perfectly into his or her own stereotype, leaving us yearning for a complex, interesting character whose life and actions surprise us.
So here we are, readers craving a character who not only is “a good man” and we like, but also one that has to break out of his stereotype and be an intriguing presence in the story. Enter the Misfit.
The Misfit first appears when the family is at its most vulnerable. When he and his lackeys first arrive on scene, the Misfit appears to be a kind stranger who fortunately came to the family’s aid after the crash. Surprisingly, the grandmother’s attitude, and even our attitudes, toward the strangers don’t change even when we find out that the kind stranger is actually the Misfit that the grandmother saw on television. The grandmother quickly assumes that the Misfit is just misunderstood and would never hurt her. We as readers hesitate to trust him once we learn his real identity, but we still are inclined to trust him, probably because the grandmother still does. O’Connor portrays the grandmother as a child-like character, sweet and innocent. As anyone who has read The Emperor’s New Clothes knows, children are famous for their ability to perceive the true natures of people. Since the grandmother is so child-like in her own naïve way, we assume that she must be able to see into the soul of the Misfit, beyond his sins and obviously dangerous qualities. However, as the events of the story continue to unfold, this hope for “a good man” fades and can no longer keep us attached to the Misfit.
When it becomes obvious that the Misfit is not actually “a good man” and does actually mean to kill the family, we as readers can no longer so readily accept the grandmother’s hope and faith, but we can still hold on to the idea that the Misfit could be the complex character we’ve been looking for. The Misfit is not your average, everyday “let’s rob and kill them ‘cause we can” kind of criminal. As he starts talking about his past, that fact becomes clear. While talking to the grandmother, he acknowledges that his parents were the “finest people in the world” (90). This conversation is the first sign that the Misfit does not fit his respective stereotype as the other characters do. Next, he tells the grandmother about his first arrest and how he was thrown in jail for killing his father (who actually died from the flu). He is the first character whose past is revealed, which gives him yet another dimension more than the other characters.
After Bobby Lee returns with Bailey’s shirt, our hopes are nearly completely gone that the Misfit will turn out to be the good man we’ve all been waiting for. Our perceptiveness, however, is still clouded when the Misfit and the grandmother start to talk about religion and punishment. The Misfit confesses that the reason he kills people is he “can’t make what all I done wrong fit what all I gone through in punishment” (130). We also gain insight into his cynical religious convictions when he says, “If [Jesus] didn’t [raise the dead] then it’s nothing for you do but enjoy the few minutes you got left the best way you can—by killing somebody or burning down his house or doing some other meanness” (135). His complexities and depth are so clear and so attractive because we see his potential for good and again start to hope that, even though he has killed people, he can still undergo a change of heart and redeem himself as a character. These hopes seem realized as the Misfit’s rough exterior starts to crack and he nearly begins to cry. The grandmother goes to far, however, by touching his shoulder and waking him up from his trance-like state where his true nature was being revealed.
So our hopes get shot down along with the grandmother, as gruesome as that sounds. O’Connor sets us up to long for “a good man”, running a parallel course with the grandmother into the hands of the very person we are told to fear from the first paragraph. We are fooled, however, by his complex nature and atypical past into thinking that he may actually be the character we have been looking for all along. But as the story ends, we are ruined in exactly the same way as the grandmother, by thinking we could trust a man who may just be that “good man” that is so hard to find. (1,011)
Updated: Add the word count
Friday, September 14, 2007
The Rolling Stones Are Always Right...Always
In numerous stories and one Rollings Stones song, we are told that “you can’t always get what you want.” In “Interpreter of Maladies”, Jhumpa Lahiri plays with this concept using the attractions of her two main characters to show that you can’t always get what you want from other people as well. The characters are attracted to each other because of what the other can offer, even though they don’t realize that they want different things. The author does such a wonderful job of creating characters who are leading unhappy lives for different reasons that she leaves readers equally longing to see them happy through their connection (even if it gives them different kinds of happiness). Because we as readers sympathize with their longings for happiness, the end of the story is heartbreaking because neither character gets the happiness they long for, but they learn that they are probably happier without the other.
The attraction between Mr. Kapasi and Mrs. Das develops and flourishes largely because of their differences and equally dissatisfying spouses. Our first impression of Mr. Das is of him arguing with his wife and constantly having his nose in his travel guides (1, 4). Next, we see him and his wife unable to get along or control their children, acting more like siblings than parents (45). Mr. Das is, in many ways, arrogant and uninteresting so it isn’t surprising that Mr. Kapasi’s jobs, as a tour guide and an interpreter, attract Mrs. Das’s attention, but not in a romantic way. Instead, she sees him as her own “interpreter of maladies” who can help her with her unhappiness, though to her this means telling her that her unhappiness is because of her marriage and husband, not her. When she starts asking questions about his interpreting job, Mr. Kapasi is flattered by her interest and that she calls his job “romantic” (79). Her interest also draws a sharp contrast to his own wife, who does not ask about his job, for good reason, and even resents the people he helps (78). Before this conversation, Mr. Kapasi is further attracted by Mrs. Das’s air and mannerisms. Unlike his own wife, who has never even been fully naked in front of him, Mrs. Das is like the typical American tourist who wears shorts and paints her nails. Mr. Kapasi is attracted to this different type of woman but sees her in a romantic way, far different from how she sees him. Whether aware of this difference or not, both characters want to “use” each other to fill gaps in their own marriages: for Mr. Kapasi a want of romance and love, for Mrs. Das a confidant to whom she can confess her unhappiness. The pivotal moment where both essentially choose to reach for what they want is when Mr. Kapasi gives Mrs. Das his address, forging a connection that they intend to continue. Mr. Kapasi chooses to have a connection with a woman that attracts and interests him and Mrs. Das chooses to have a connection with a man that can console and listen to her. In their own ways, the two choose a life they believe will be better than the lives they lead.
Like in any wives’ tale with a similar message, the two main characters must learn to face the fact that they can't expect to get what they want from other people. In this story, the breakdown of the illusion occurs when Mr. Kapasi realizes that Mrs. Das is not romantically interested in him and, in turn, breaks her delusions of him as well. After Mrs. Das confesses her infidelity and lasting unhappiness, Mr. Kapasi is realizes that she wants him as a confidante instead of a lover and disturbed that “she thought of him as a parent” (147). It dawns on him that his illusions of her love were based on hope for a better relationships, rather than reciprocated attraction. As he realizes his true worth in her eyes, he feels “insulted that Mrs. Das should ask him to interpret her common, trivial little secret” (161). Despite his disappointment, he is willing to give her the advice she seeks but he asks the blunt question, “Is it really pain you feel, Mrs. Das, or is it guilt?”, and deeply insults her in addition to depriving her of what she wants to hear. By doing so, Mr. Kapasi breaks her illusion of a better life through him. She no longer sees him as someone who will give her what she wants, a reason to leave her husband, her children, and her unhappy life. Though it is sad that both characters will not be truly happy after their encounter is over, it slowly becomes clear to both of them and the reader that their own lives would not be better with their connection. Mr. Kapasi would long to have a real relationship and Mrs. Das would long for the advice she wanted to hear. It is only a matter of time before their illusions of each other and their potential happiness break down as it their true intentions become clear. As they both walk away from the jungle and each other, they realize that, in their case, you can’t always get what you want. (875)
The attraction between Mr. Kapasi and Mrs. Das develops and flourishes largely because of their differences and equally dissatisfying spouses. Our first impression of Mr. Das is of him arguing with his wife and constantly having his nose in his travel guides (1, 4). Next, we see him and his wife unable to get along or control their children, acting more like siblings than parents (45). Mr. Das is, in many ways, arrogant and uninteresting so it isn’t surprising that Mr. Kapasi’s jobs, as a tour guide and an interpreter, attract Mrs. Das’s attention, but not in a romantic way. Instead, she sees him as her own “interpreter of maladies” who can help her with her unhappiness, though to her this means telling her that her unhappiness is because of her marriage and husband, not her. When she starts asking questions about his interpreting job, Mr. Kapasi is flattered by her interest and that she calls his job “romantic” (79). Her interest also draws a sharp contrast to his own wife, who does not ask about his job, for good reason, and even resents the people he helps (78). Before this conversation, Mr. Kapasi is further attracted by Mrs. Das’s air and mannerisms. Unlike his own wife, who has never even been fully naked in front of him, Mrs. Das is like the typical American tourist who wears shorts and paints her nails. Mr. Kapasi is attracted to this different type of woman but sees her in a romantic way, far different from how she sees him. Whether aware of this difference or not, both characters want to “use” each other to fill gaps in their own marriages: for Mr. Kapasi a want of romance and love, for Mrs. Das a confidant to whom she can confess her unhappiness. The pivotal moment where both essentially choose to reach for what they want is when Mr. Kapasi gives Mrs. Das his address, forging a connection that they intend to continue. Mr. Kapasi chooses to have a connection with a woman that attracts and interests him and Mrs. Das chooses to have a connection with a man that can console and listen to her. In their own ways, the two choose a life they believe will be better than the lives they lead.
Like in any wives’ tale with a similar message, the two main characters must learn to face the fact that they can't expect to get what they want from other people. In this story, the breakdown of the illusion occurs when Mr. Kapasi realizes that Mrs. Das is not romantically interested in him and, in turn, breaks her delusions of him as well. After Mrs. Das confesses her infidelity and lasting unhappiness, Mr. Kapasi is realizes that she wants him as a confidante instead of a lover and disturbed that “she thought of him as a parent” (147). It dawns on him that his illusions of her love were based on hope for a better relationships, rather than reciprocated attraction. As he realizes his true worth in her eyes, he feels “insulted that Mrs. Das should ask him to interpret her common, trivial little secret” (161). Despite his disappointment, he is willing to give her the advice she seeks but he asks the blunt question, “Is it really pain you feel, Mrs. Das, or is it guilt?”, and deeply insults her in addition to depriving her of what she wants to hear. By doing so, Mr. Kapasi breaks her illusion of a better life through him. She no longer sees him as someone who will give her what she wants, a reason to leave her husband, her children, and her unhappy life. Though it is sad that both characters will not be truly happy after their encounter is over, it slowly becomes clear to both of them and the reader that their own lives would not be better with their connection. Mr. Kapasi would long to have a real relationship and Mrs. Das would long for the advice she wanted to hear. It is only a matter of time before their illusions of each other and their potential happiness break down as it their true intentions become clear. As they both walk away from the jungle and each other, they realize that, in their case, you can’t always get what you want. (875)
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