Theory on Milkman's Influences

For the duration of Part I in Song of Solomon,  Milkman's world is compressed entirely within his own familial ties. Besides Guitar, he only really even speaks to his parents, sisters, aunt, and two cousins. Truthfully, he barely even talks to his sisters or Reba; Ruth, Macon, Pilate and Hagar are the four living forces that dictate his social life. Narrowing further, Hagar's purpose (to Milkman) is fairly one-dimensional, and her world is so intrinsically involved with Pilate's that she becomes a more of a product of Pilate's sphere. As he moves through his childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood, Ruth, Macon and Pilate all pull him towards their own lives and enforce certain qualities. I'll make the case that the majority of the Milkman coming-of-age is dictated by these three main adult figures in different phases, and that their influence determines his character. 

The first phase of Milkman's life is largely influenced by Ruth. Considering his youth, the narrative of Song of Solomon doesn't follow his thoughts in earlier sections, but readers can still observe their close relationship and what it creates for his character. Specifically, right from when Freddie utters "A milkman. That's what you got here, Miss Rufie", Milkman's literal name and identity are altered from his breastfeeding activities with Ruth (15). Even though her actions have little to no influence on his thinking or mindset, they begin Milkman's sense of self and give him the groundwork for a personality.

Milkman's adolescence to early adulthood is guided by Pilate and Macon's influences simultaneously. Macon rules the house life rather aggressively, while Pilate's world is the downtime of Milkman's life. A description right before they first enter Pilate's house illustrates their separate yet coinciding influences on Milkman. 

All those unbelievable but entirely possible stories about his father's sister - the woman his father had forbidden him to go near - had both of them spellbound. Neither wished to live one more day without finding out the truth, and they believed they were the legitimate and natural ones to do so. (36)

Milkman's absolute fascination with Pilate along with the mention of his father's control over his life show their combined impact on his world. Ruth is distant from Milkman at this point since he has been weaned from her early mother-child relationship, and Macon dominates the household as the loud and aggressive bread-winner. Whenever Milkman is absent from his company, Pilate's world of familial love, familial intrigue ( from the unbelievable stories of his relative), and Hagar takes up his time. Macon and Pilate are forces in Milkman's life that add both discipline and leisure, and balance his agenda between a free-spirit and a man deeply entrenched in society.

In this line of thinking, Part II can be seen as a departure, or final stage in becoming his own person. He is isolated from these]adult figures for the majority of his journey, and he meets an entirely new cast of characters, whether alive, dead, mythologized, or any combination of the three. However, Ruth, Macon, and Pilate created the man that set on the quest by telling him each their own accounts of the same stories, thereby changing his perspectives on his identity.   

 

A Critique on the Loose Ends of Wide Sargasso Sea

Wide Sargasso Sea is an awesome read. The start was disorienting, but amid the confusion there was a fantastic, beautifully depicted world. By process of rereading, asking questions, and plenty of dictionary checks, this book became an engrossing and masterful piece. Needless to say, there are few unsealed cracks in this legendary fanfic. However, it seemed towards the end that Rhys' world grew a bit too much for it's own good, leading to a rushing scramble to connect the loose ends to the story of Jane Eyre. Although the main points and flow of the novel glue well to the parent piece, certain details aren't fully developed during the premise, and they stick out like a sore thumb in the tight narrative Rhys has constructed.
The first object in the narrative that is set up but never fully explored is obeah. In the early sections of Antoinette's perspective we witness Christophine's Cool Crazy Cabinet with a slowly bleeding rooster and some other mysterious objects, and we're like "Wow! How Cool and Crazy!" (28) I was looking forward to development of this plot point, and despite it's treatment in the closing scenes with the "love potion" the finer points are never elaborated. Is it legit? Do all the characters in the story believe in it? Perhaps the quality of the novel is positively affected by these informative omissions, but it definitely doesn't warrant setting up a potentially novel concept.
A slightly less mentioned, but nonetheless important detail I found underplayed was the whole "Bertha Mason" deal. As nitpicky as it sounds, especially knowing all along that this Antoinette has to become Bertha by the end of the novel, the seed of this dynamic seems to be planted far too late. Rhys pulls off the emotional side of this concept very well; the name is used to further encase Antoinette in her shell and her madness, and reflects the passive ways that she is driven insane. The actual reasoning for it is left sort of ambiguous and inexplicable. I might be reading into it too far, but having Rochester just suddenly start calling her this name he likes and ignoring her statements to stop is very weird, and reflects my feelings on the sudden meltdown of Rochester.
This might be unorthodox for a blog post, but I'm curious to see what you guys think: Do you agree that these mentioned developments are "plot holes" that are left untended? Do you feel the ambiguity of these concepts is key to the novel? Or do you think I'm just nitpicking and the story is entirely well constructed? Please, let me know!

Maintaining the Neutrality of Mersault

We talked in class the other day about Camus' idea of Mersault, where he created a man "ostensibly without consciousness". After reading the first chapter and hearing this directly afterwards, I thought it was bogus, and a failed cause. But once Camus' goal was planted in my head, I began to notice the many techniques and mannerisms he used to achieve this soulless neutrality, and how they make Mersault's actions all the more impactful and strange.

Some of the first examples Camus uses to keep this neutrality are in his emotional life. For one, Mersault never cries. On page 3, while opening with the death of his mother, he actually becomes distracted trying to remember the date of her passing.

Maman died today. Or maybe it was yesterday, I don't know. I got a telegram from home: "Mother deceased. Funeral tomorrow. Faithfully yours." That doesn't mean anything. Maybe it was yesterday.
(3)

Mersault's dismissing of this awful situation is eerily absent emotionally, and is multiplied several times when we find out his dad also died when he was little much later in the book. Although we cannot know the exact relationship between him and his parents, this exact detachment is brought up quite a bit in the rest of the chapter's funeral, and his prosecution later on. He also never mentions himself crying or expressing negative emotion to this terrible news, a point that resurfaces during his jury time when the crowd is against him. "For the first time in many years I felt this stupid urge to cry.", he says, responding to his prosecutor's total control over the jury. (90) His anger and reference to the long time it has been since he cried enhances his emotional detachment in the eyes of the reader, and certainly falls into Camus' neutral vision for the character.

One of my personal favorite mannerisms of Mersault that is used to maintain neutrality is his concise reply to all other character's questions, that are usually used to end the strain of conversation rather than express an opinion one way or the other. Specifically, he'll say "yes", occasionally "no", or something along the lines of "it doesn't matter". On page 4 he replies "yes" to a random soldier on the bus who asks if he's been traveling long, just so he "wouldn't have to say anything else." On page 33,  in response to the shady Raymond stating that Mersault is a "pal", he says "Yes" On page 23, he even just "nods as if to say 'Yes'" to some happy soccer fans after they won a game. When Marie asks him if he would want to get married, he says that "it doesn't make any difference to me and we could if we wanted to." (41) He says "No" to when Marie says that marriage is a serious thing. (42) These are just a few examples of the all sorts of situations that Mersault stays in the neutral with quick replies. All of his social interactions are catering to this philosophy that nothing really matters, and it ultimately combines into a character with no consciousness.

As one last note, Mersault is pretty much the worst person that could be put on trial. Basically devoid of morals, brutally honest, and with no strong opinions to win over a jury, he's helpless. Considering he also committed first-degree murder for no other reason than "the sun was in my eyes", it is unavoidable that he'll get clowned by any competent prosecutor, and he does. So I give major props to Camus for setting up that destruction in the courtroom, because it put directly into context what the public thinks of this guy. However, he's not the total worst, since he isn't an Arab. He'd probably be sitting in the row right then thanks to racial conflicts in that area.  

The Metamorphosis: Kafka's Critique on the Modern Job Market.

Assigning a particular reason for Gregor's transformation is an oft-tackled inquiry that has no real answer. The who, how, and why of the equation are left entirely blank, so one must grab on to the little we know about Gregor's pre-metamorphosed life. In my opinion, the greatest correlation is the crushing modern workplace in his world; his job is his primary concern and action that he voices, and the only part of his life he initially forms opinions on. Kafka is known to have been an insurance clerk as well; he knows the awful repetition of certain jobs. And in The Metamorphosis, Kafka is attempting to bash the monotonous and destructive work setting of the new world.

The opening paragraphs of The Metamorphosis create one of the greatest cold opens in all of fiction. An extremely odd, nonchalant first sentence all the way to this Gregor's insanely unconcerned demeanor makes for an unforgettable, bizarre writing prompt. "What has happened to me?" Gregor thinks, as he stares at his WRIGGLING INSECT LEGS and lies on his SCARAB BACK! My initial reaction to this was along the lines of "what is wrong with this guy?" But I suppose assigning normal psychology to a book about a permanent case of morning roach is fairly unwarranted. Nonetheless, the very first thoughts he has after examining his body are directly about his work.

"'O God.' he thought, 'what an exhausting job I've chosen! One the move day in, day out. The business worries are far worse than they are on the actual premises at home, and on top of that I'm saddled with this travelling, the anxiety about train connections, the bad and irregular meals, the constant stream of changing faces with no chance of any warmer, lasting companionship. The devil take it all!'" (65)

This is the first place where I became curious of a job-related-metamorphosis thesis. Kafka must be aware of the absurdity of Gregor's thoughts, and the strange correlation he creates. His description of commonplace jobs for his employment evoke a sort of degrading cycle, where every time he eats a new bad meal, has a poor trip, or worries about train connections a little bit of his humanity is stripped of him. His proclamation of "the devil take it all!" similarly depicts an end to this cycle, where the 'devil' should possibly rob his humanity away all at once, to at least take him away from this horrendous job. It may seem like a stretch to think his job was withering away his life and stripping him down to an insect-like role, but Gregor hasn't missed a day in 5 years. His alarm is set for 4am! And the fact that he just slept in for the first time in all of that era possibly indicates this surrender to whatever being granted his insectdom.

Although his quest to work is soon vanquished after the reactions of his boss and family, it seems as though it was the stem of the problem. Especially with the father exhibiting insect-like qualities at the end chapters of The Metamorphosis after he gets a job, the critique on new jobs is still present. Perhaps the final happiness shown in the last paragraph is a product of their shared work, where Grete, Herr Samsa, and Mrs. Samsa each get a respectable job to produce together, whereas Gregor's isolation and constant activity destroyed his humanity. Horray!

A Super Delayed Response to "The Hours"

Hey! I liked this movie! The first thing I thought, just looking at the cover, is that this is like a "mom nirvana" type movie. At least for my mom. Powerhouse dramatic actresses in Meryl Streep, Julianne Moore, and Nicole Kidman, plus Ed Harris! When I told her that it was an involved, moving and disturbing film that rides largely on the acting performances, I think she started salivating.

But that's beside the point. One of the coolest things this movie did was almost splatter-paint the characters of Mrs. Dalloway into the world of The Hours. The identities, problems, feelings, and personalities were each compartmentalized and then tossed into a nice movie salad. The prime example of this would be the movie version of Richard. A relatively unexplored character in the book is given further complexities and identity in the film, by maintaining the closeness and house life with "Clarissa", but giving him the reflection and prose of Septimus, and the homosexual love qualities briefly expressed by Sally and Clarissa in the book (which basically all of the important female cast expresses in the film). This new character of movie Richard, by having the qualities of characters in the novel, keeps the encompassing themes of Mrs. Dalloway while giving a fresh take of a new person. The Hours is extremely successful in this overall regard, carrying over themes of the novel by using the individual character traits without making the characters seem unexplained or totally rehashed.

The novel version of Mrs. Dalloway was also perfectly embodied in the film. The deeply explored, multifaceted character is split and elaborated with three separate figures in the movie. Clarissa is the housewife, partythrower, slightly on edge version of Mrs. Dalloway. Caring for Sally and Richard in simultaneous wife-like relationships (that are similar to the Dalloway's interactions in the novel), while carrying out a lot of the physical actions of book Mrs. Dalloway. The 1950's Laura Brown was the somber, sympathetic side of Mrs. Dalloway, with deep seated isolation and disconnect from her husband that we occasionally see in the novel. And Nicole Kidman with her prosthesis nose portrayed Virginia Woolf, intermittently and effectively appearing in the story to reflect herself among the other two split personalities. Reading the novel before this makes The Hours a joy to watch for me. Each part of Mrs. Dalloway is picked apart but then nuanced in different situations. Kind of speaks for the complexity that Woolf wrote Clarissa Dalloway with, that her personal aspects can be made into three separate lead characters in three tangentially related plots.

BOOZE?!? Decoding the Ever-Present Alcohol in The Sun Also Rises

The Sun Also Rises, like countless other novels, has certain "running gags" that persist throughout. They fade in and out of focus, but remain ever present. Things like hating on Cohn, discussing irony, and occasionally acknowledgement Jake's injury would fall into this category. However, the strongest physical theme of the novel would have to be drinking and alcohol, one that I believe ebbs and flows in things such as Jake's mood, the perspectives of the characters, and even pastoral symbolism far more than anything other aspect of the novel.

While in the bar with Georgette, the first alcoholic drink we see consumed is pernod absinthe. Jake describes the qualities and details of the liquor on page 23:

     "Pernod is green imitation absinthe. When you add water it turns milky. It has a good uplift, but           drops you just as far."

The question is, why does Jake include this description? While informing the reader of the actual substance of the beverage, he goes out of his way to describe its depressant-like effects. His feelings toward the drink largely reflect his opinion of Paris as a city. Although Jake trots around the Paris  and its many clubs and bars, the seeming fun of his adventures are nullified by his isolation. Jake mentions that he has been wandering recently on page 19, replying that he has "tried all that" in response to Cohn's urge to go South America. The wandering reflects his dissatisfaction and displacement in the Parisian scene, that the "imitation absinthe" pernod, a usually natural botanical combination made artificial, perhaps mirrors as well. After all, in the page previous (18) Jake mentions that the only people who live their lives up fully are bull fighters, indicating his passion for the different pastoral environment of Spain.

Once Jake actually enters Spain, the tone of his drinking becomes much less depressing and far more sociable. Take the fiesta scene on page 158:

     "The fiesta was really started. It kept up day and night for several days. The dancing kept up, the        drinking kept up, the noise went on. The things that happened could have only happened during a        fiesta. Everything became quite unreal finally and it seemed that nothing could have any                      consequences"

Immediately the context of drinking changes in Jakes eyes. With liberal drinking during the fiesta, Jake seemingly submits to pastoral desire of the common people and draws a sharp contrast to his normally restrained, depressant use of alcohol in Paris. Although, there is a common theme emerging with Jake's consumption of alcohol; he utilizes it as a mental distraction. Whether it be his depression in Paris or the need to let go of boundaries and consequences in the fiesta, he drinks whenever he needs to emotionally detach himself. On page 150 he even drinks to numb himself from the constant worries and troubles of his friends. "Under the wine I lost the disgusted feeling and was happy. It seemed they were all such nice people."

The theme continues of the alcohol being a reflector of emotion and and straightforward conversation on page 152, where Jake qualitatively analyzes the drunken tendencies of the main characters.

     "Mike was a bad drunk. Brett was a good drunk. Bill was a good drunk. Cohn was never drunk."

This quick, apt description by Jake summarizes each character's ability to deflect while drunk, as well as the general opinion of each other held by this circle of characters. When Mike gets drunk, his words are not ironic. His drunken speeches get down to the things that are bothering him, which is mostly Cohn. Therefore, his angry and straightforward words make him a "bad drunk". Cohn is unable to deflect emotionally or ironically with the other characters because he never gets drunk. These two and their inabilities to join the ironic drinkers sets them apart socially from Brett Jake and Bill throughout the novel. Alcohol determines the characters motives and boundaries yet again!

All in all, the drinking in The Sun Also Rises takes on a variety of forms and consequences, from ironic banter to full on fights in Spain, but serves a purpose that the characters hold true to themselves and each other in deflection. Jake deflects his pastoral longing of Spain while in France and his feelings towards Brett. Mike deflects his general sadness in life, rage for Cohn, and disappointments for his financial situation and Brett. Cohn by staying sober loses his ironic shield and opens him up for jabs by Mike and social exile in the main characters grouping. Overall, each character and their interactions with alcohol define their position in the novel.  

Woolf the Painter

The characters explored in Mrs. Dalloway are some of the most fleshed-out and intriguing I've personally encountered in literature. Woolf's uses her powertool, free-indirect discourse, and her apt writing prowess to make beautiful character portraits, whose ambiguities let the reader create their own opinions on the pieces. From this, Woolf has made for us a gallery of excellent character paintings, derived from her clues in the novel and the interpretations by the viewers.
Richard Dalloway is one character that may seem one-dimensional at first, but is saved by Woolf's prose to become multifaceted. His central conflict, his ability to tell his wife that he loves her, can be interpreted in multiple ways. Is he an amiable guy whose busy life has simply disconnected him from his love? Or is he so selfishly preoccupied with work that he under-appreciates his own spouse? Woolf's free indirect discourse tunes into the mental frequencies of the character to give a fascinating depiction of Richard, without answering our biggest questions up front.
Septimus is another whose detailed dualities leave the reader with plenty to think about. The noble poet and his story of going off to war leaves an unusual taste; was his quest being mocked by Woolf or simply playing a part in her overall critique of war? The passage where she accounts his motives and wartime activities assaults the reader with bitter visions of war along with strange activities by Septimus at the same time. One example would be when Evans dies and Septimus feels nothing, and even congratulates himself for it. Woolf manages to show the awful consequences of war while displaying an ambiguous picture of her character, blurring the lines of Septimus's disturbing lack of feeling with the overarching villainy of war. Septimus's death also treads a middle path between tragedy and his own expression. The setup prior to his suicide does remind one of a tragic storyline, with his tender interactions with Lucrezia and such, but the actual death and his activities elsewhere in the novel express many feelings different feelings on life. His observations flip between beautiful and utterly confusing, and for every optimistic tinge in his thoughts there is a comment on the inevitablity of his death. Woolf never makes it seem as though suicide can be the only way out, as her writing for Septimus's mind seems to change his course of fate every few sentences. Her writing skill fills out the colors each of the characters dilemmas, so that none of them feel unexplored, but none are set in stone either.