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!
Friday, November 13, 2015
Sunday, November 1, 2015
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)