The 1927 edition of Samuel Butler’s anti-utopian tract Erewhon includes a critique serving as an introduction by Lewis Mumford. The critique contains an outline of Butler’s satirical targets, namely Darwinism and religious orthodoxy, as well as a scathing comment from Mumford on the very nature of utopian literature: “Utopias are usually written by people without humor; for an attempt to describe perfection must ignore all the shortcomings and perversions of the ideal, which are the ironic commentary of life upon its own effort to transcend its animal limitations”(Mumford xxi). In Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels, the obtuse character of Lemuel Gulliver seems to fit Mumford’s description of utopian authors perfectly. Setting up the text as a travel narrative, Swift invites his readers to interact with a narrator and cultures that embody the limitations of Western culture, particularly the limitless promises of reason and progress in the Eighteenth-century.
Swift’s narrator, Gulliver, is unable to acknowledge the irony of a supposedly virtuous race of horses, Houyhnhnms, whose society is based on rigid segregation of breeds and species. By ignoring the limitations of Houyhnhnm culture such as their lack of written texts and static technology, Gulliver instead chooses to focus on negative aspects of British and/or Western society, thus producing a false-template for perfection on which he measures his own people. Gulliver’s idealism also impedes his ability to question the quality of a civilization built upon the ideal of reason, but unable to acknowledge even the possibility of mendacious speech and thought. By placing the reader beside Gulliver as he experiences the world of the Houyhnhnm, Swift is able to demonstrate the absurdity of a world where virtue and vice are genetically separate and lampoon the very ideals of the Age of Enlightenment.
As a native of England, Gulliver resides within the cradle of the Enlightenment – an emerging republic where monarchy had been replaced by suffrage and an acknowledgement of equality. Like the citizens of Gulliver’s (and Swift’s) England, Houyhnhnms are focused on ways in which reason can improve all aspects of life, all the time ignoring the unreasonable segregation of breeds. In Chapter 8, Gulliver relates details of Houyhnhnm society including their emphasis on coat color and how this determines which Houyhnhnms will marry (Swift 1270). Gulliver notes that couples “pass their lives…without jealousy, fondness, quarreling, or discontent”(Swift 1270), outlining a marital institution where reason, the center of Houyhnhnm philosophy, has replaced passion and maybe even love. By observing an animal that seems genetically devoid of emotion, Gulliver has unwittingly encountered a world in which reason is separate from desire. The Houyhnhnm are purely reasonable, while the inferior species, the Yahoo, are purely instinctive as focused on pleasure and passion.
Unlike the Houyhnhnm, Yahoos only consume food that is not their own, reproduce, and frighten Gulliver. They do not compose poetry or exercise their young, and they are only partially useful as a source of slave-labor. Yahoo nature is the exact opposite of the always reasonable Houyhnhnm nature, and completely lacking in any of the values of reason espoused by the opposite race, just as the Houyhnhnm race is completely lacking in any of the Dionysian impulsiveness of the Yahoos. This genetic separation of philosophies leads to a genocidal proposal by the Houyhnhnm leadership. Gulliver is invited to attend a “grand debate”; the debated question being “whether the Yahoos should be exterminated from the earth”(Swift 1271). It is here that Swift once again attacks the Enlightenment ideal, that reason can be separated permanently from the passions. By proposing to “exterminate” the Yahoo, the Houyhnhnm have in effect proposed to eliminate desire, sexuality, and want – emotions that often define reason.
Gulliver’s observance and subsequent praise of the Houyhnhnm assembly and debate lie in stark contrast to his own scathing critiques of the British legal system. Instead of acknowledging the logical limitations of Houyhnhnm culture, such as their lack of literacy and relatively primitive technology, Gulliver has unknowingly created a false-paradigm between British and Western institutions and the stunted constructs of a society where reason impedes progress. During his description of the British court system, Gulliver characterizes lawyers as individuals who “are bred up from their youth in the art of proving by words multiplied for the purpose, that white is black, and black is white”(Swift 1258). Judges are described as “old or lazy and having been biased all their lives against truth and equity”(Swift 1258), and Gulliver further claims that the entire system seems created only to deprive innocent men of property, his example being a cow.
By doing so, Gulliver has made the mistake of comparing Eighteenth-century England with a land populated by a species who believe that either a Houyhnhnm or a Yahoo are born into their caste with no hope of social mobility. Gulliver seems clueless as to the true function of a legal system in a republic such as Great Britain. He seems unable to understand that attorneys must practice law as a necessity to protect ownership rights, a concept not present in Houyhnhnm culture. A legal system can and should be the product of a society where progress has enabled the development of a middle class, or property owners not connected to nobility. In Houyhnhnm culture, however, lawyers are not necessary as there is no hope for social mobility, as class is determined by genetics. This aspect of the horse society may be a satire of the Enlightenment’s failure to address the continued reliance on feudal systems of land ownership and even slavery, but this over-reliance on reason can also be viewed as the natural byproduct of separating the reasonable (Houyhnhnms) from the irrational (Yahoos), an impossibility when dealing with mankind, instead of horses.
Utilizing Gulliver as the reader’s guide or host within Houyhnhnm culture is useful as it allows Swift to emphasize the aforementioned “shortcomings and perversions of the ideal”, and further satirize the concept of utopia. Early in Part Four of Gulliver’s Travels, Swift introduces the fact that these highly intelligent horses are unable to contemplate the idea of falsity or dishonesty. Gulliver engages in “frequent discourses” with his Houyhnhnm master in which he has “has occasion to talk of lying, and false representation”(Swift 1252). Gulliver’s “master” “has much difficulty” with the concept of mendacity and further explains that for Houyhnhnms “the use of speech was to make us understand one another” and that by lying “these ends were defeated”(Swift 1252). Gulliver’s master cannot begin to understand why man would want anyone to believe that “a thing” is black when it is actually white (Swift 1252).
Again, through this discourse with his Houyhnhnm master, Gulliver has unwittingly emphasized the limits of a society whose very speech patterns are based around the notion that reason and virtue are to be constantly acknowledged and expected. Gulliver is once again used as Swift’s person “without humor”, unable to understand that if one accepts reason as a desirable quality, then reason should have a purpose, to counter mendacity and the unreasonable side of humanity. Houyhnhnms seem unable to understand that without distrust virtue cannot exist merely for its own sake. The Enlightenment sought to combine the philosophies of ancient Greece with the logic of Newton, creating the possibility of a world where reason and virtue can help propel a civilization towards utopia with momentum generated by the energy of truth and nature.
Swift wanted his readers to understand that Gulliver’s lack of humor was a product of his naïve nature, a nature that Swift recognized in the utopian visionaries influenced by Enlightenment thought. Democracy is surely a result of reason and honest deliberation, but virtue and the natural energy of the universe are not the singular necessities of a thriving culture.
Houyhnhnms are unaware that evil may lurk in the heart of even the most reasonable of creatures. They believe that a Yahoo must be evil, as he lives outside of reason. They do not understand their own “animal limitations” and “shortcomings”, or inability to progress beyond a system where black is always black. The land of the Houyhnhnm is not a utopia, as suggested by Gulliver, but instead a totalitarian society where tyranny is enforced through an unquestioned worship of reason. Swift recognized the despotic potential for Enlightenment thought, as he recognized that human nature is much more complex than reason and the unreasonable, or Houyhnhnms and Yahoos. The author understood that in order to isolate virtue, deviancy must be eliminated, and in order to establish perfection, progress must be halted.
Works Cited
Mumford, Lewis. Introduction. Erewhon and Erewhon Revisted: Samuel Butler. New York: The Modern Library, 1927. XIX-XXVII.
Swift, Jonathan. Gulliver’s Travels. Masters of British Literature: Vol. A. Ed. David Damrosch and Kevin J.H. Dettmar. New York: Pearson, Longman, 2008. 1241-1287.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
The Language Of Lawrence's "Snake"
In the preface to his 1920 collection of poems, simply-titled New Poems, D.H. Lawrence provided a great deal of insight into not only his intent as a poet, but the techniques he was interested in employing. Lawrence explains his interest in what he refers to as poetry of the “the immediate present”(Cook, 107), and how he believed that the use of “free verse” was best suited for his expressions related to “The quick of the universe...the pulsating, carnal self”(Cook, 108). The poem “Snake” can be examined not only as a prime example of Lawrence’s free verse technique, but as a decidedly focused piece; one in which the “immediate present” comes to life on the page and in the mind of the reader. This is accomplished through Lawrence’s focus on imagery rife with detail and words that seem intent on evoking the image of the snake. What is not to be found in this poem are the complicated allusions of Lawrence’s contemporaries, or the puzzling metaphors of nature and man’s relationship within. Instead the reader finds a striking exploration of a brief moment in which Lawrence’s snake seems to come alive. The snake leaves the barriers of earth and enters the poetic world of the sublime.
This exquisite transformation is accomplished through a deliberate manipulation of language that perhaps could not have been accomplished through the rigid conventions of standard poetic meter. Lawrence may have chosen this poetic form to free himself from the structure of rhythm and rhyme, but by doing so he subsequently captured another more illusive rhythm, perhaps the rhythm of the snake. In order to further illustrate this one should carefully examine the third stanza of “Snake”. The creature has already appeared beside the water-trough, and the observer is intensely focused on its appearance:
If Lawrence had chosen a more standard poetic rhythm he would have placed a constraint on his ability to describe the snake. A suitable comparison may be between a four-legged animal and the snake. An animal with legs relies on a deliberate rhythm as it walks or runs, but a snake’s motion is part of a fluid energy that Lawrence seemed intent on capturing within this passage. Notice how the poet runs his physical description together “...his yellow-brown slackness soft-bellied down”, these words together with the conjunctive “And” mimic the fluid rhythm of a snake crawling through the grass. The use of “And” in the three connected lines prompt us to read the lines as one sentence, flowing together like the gentle crawl of a snake on a summer afternoon. Lawrence also focuses on the consonant s as a way to emphasize the soft, flowing rhythm, and perhaps put the sound most affiliated with snakes -“ssss” - into the mind of the reader. Starting from the first line it is interesting to note the frequency of s. The sound first appears in the word “fissure” and is repeated in the alliterative verse “yellow-brown slackness soft-bellied”, and again “stone trough.” But Lawrence doesn’t stop here as the snake has “rested his throat upon the stone bottom.” The snake is drinking water “in the small clearness” where “he sipped with his straight mouth Softly drank through his straight gums” as we and the narrator observe his “slack” body while he drinks “Silently.” This combination of Lawrence’s manipulation of his verse’s rhythmic structure and the repetition of the consonant effectively evoke the physical characteristics of Lawrence’s subject, the drinking snake. The technique is employed again in the twelfth stanza of the text, beginning at line 41:
“He drank enough
And lifted his head, dreamily, as one who has drunken,
And flickered his tongue like a forked night on the air, so black,
Seeming to lick his lips
And looked around like a god, unseeing, into the air,
And slowly turned his head,
And slowly, very slowly, as if thrice adream
Proceeded to draw his slow length cruving round
And climb again the broken band of my wall- face.”
Once again, Lawrence uses the conjunctive “and” to dictate the rhythm, and imitate the slow yet flowing movement of the creature. “And” is used six times in this stanza alone, and always at the beginning of a line. By doing so, Lawrence is able to illustrate, through words, the flowing movement of the snake as he finishes his drink and gently glances around at his surroundings. One can assume there was no noticeable pause as the serpent finishes his drink and lifts his head, and this continuous movement is illustrated by both the use of the conjunctive and the insertion of the word “dreamily”, a term that again emphasizes the slow, deliberate movement of the creature. Alliteration is employed again, though not quite as apparent as with the “s” in the above referenced stanza. Lawrence describes the snake’s tongue as “flickered...like a forked night”, using the “f” to perhaps emphasize the quick and sharp movements of the tongue. While the “s” is use to emphasize the flowing movement of the body, the short consonant “f” ,which is formed by quickly biting the bottom lip, helps the reader effectively visualize the rapid movement of a snake’s tongue. Combined with Lawrence’s simple, yet effective control of the rhythm, the emphasis on these consonants creates an astonishing effect, one in which the reader is able to perfectly visualize Lawrence’s subject.
While this poem can genuinely be read as a commentary on the tenuous nature of man’s relationship to non-human creatures it is important to recognize that the confounding ending may not have been nearly as effective were it not for Lawrence’s skillful manipulation of language. By carefully controlling the rhythm of the verse and properly emphasizing certain sounds the poet creates a mesmerizing description of a creature, and bridges the barrier between descriptive language and the natural world.
This exquisite transformation is accomplished through a deliberate manipulation of language that perhaps could not have been accomplished through the rigid conventions of standard poetic meter. Lawrence may have chosen this poetic form to free himself from the structure of rhythm and rhyme, but by doing so he subsequently captured another more illusive rhythm, perhaps the rhythm of the snake. In order to further illustrate this one should carefully examine the third stanza of “Snake”. The creature has already appeared beside the water-trough, and the observer is intensely focused on its appearance:
“He reached down from a fissure in the earth-wall in the gloom
And trailed his yellow-brown slackness soft-bellied down, over the edge of
the stone trough
And rested his throat upon the stone bottom
And where the water had dripped from the tap, in a small clearness,
He sipped with his straight mouth,
Softly drank through his straight gums, into his slack long body,
Silently.”
If Lawrence had chosen a more standard poetic rhythm he would have placed a constraint on his ability to describe the snake. A suitable comparison may be between a four-legged animal and the snake. An animal with legs relies on a deliberate rhythm as it walks or runs, but a snake’s motion is part of a fluid energy that Lawrence seemed intent on capturing within this passage. Notice how the poet runs his physical description together “...his yellow-brown slackness soft-bellied down”, these words together with the conjunctive “And” mimic the fluid rhythm of a snake crawling through the grass. The use of “And” in the three connected lines prompt us to read the lines as one sentence, flowing together like the gentle crawl of a snake on a summer afternoon. Lawrence also focuses on the consonant s as a way to emphasize the soft, flowing rhythm, and perhaps put the sound most affiliated with snakes -“ssss” - into the mind of the reader. Starting from the first line it is interesting to note the frequency of s. The sound first appears in the word “fissure” and is repeated in the alliterative verse “yellow-brown slackness soft-bellied”, and again “stone trough.” But Lawrence doesn’t stop here as the snake has “rested his throat upon the stone bottom.” The snake is drinking water “in the small clearness” where “he sipped with his straight mouth Softly drank through his straight gums” as we and the narrator observe his “slack” body while he drinks “Silently.” This combination of Lawrence’s manipulation of his verse’s rhythmic structure and the repetition of the consonant effectively evoke the physical characteristics of Lawrence’s subject, the drinking snake. The technique is employed again in the twelfth stanza of the text, beginning at line 41:
“He drank enough
And lifted his head, dreamily, as one who has drunken,
And flickered his tongue like a forked night on the air, so black,
Seeming to lick his lips
And looked around like a god, unseeing, into the air,
And slowly turned his head,
And slowly, very slowly, as if thrice adream
Proceeded to draw his slow length cruving round
And climb again the broken band of my wall- face.”
Once again, Lawrence uses the conjunctive “and” to dictate the rhythm, and imitate the slow yet flowing movement of the creature. “And” is used six times in this stanza alone, and always at the beginning of a line. By doing so, Lawrence is able to illustrate, through words, the flowing movement of the snake as he finishes his drink and gently glances around at his surroundings. One can assume there was no noticeable pause as the serpent finishes his drink and lifts his head, and this continuous movement is illustrated by both the use of the conjunctive and the insertion of the word “dreamily”, a term that again emphasizes the slow, deliberate movement of the creature. Alliteration is employed again, though not quite as apparent as with the “s” in the above referenced stanza. Lawrence describes the snake’s tongue as “flickered...like a forked night”, using the “f” to perhaps emphasize the quick and sharp movements of the tongue. While the “s” is use to emphasize the flowing movement of the body, the short consonant “f” ,which is formed by quickly biting the bottom lip, helps the reader effectively visualize the rapid movement of a snake’s tongue. Combined with Lawrence’s simple, yet effective control of the rhythm, the emphasis on these consonants creates an astonishing effect, one in which the reader is able to perfectly visualize Lawrence’s subject.
While this poem can genuinely be read as a commentary on the tenuous nature of man’s relationship to non-human creatures it is important to recognize that the confounding ending may not have been nearly as effective were it not for Lawrence’s skillful manipulation of language. By carefully controlling the rhythm of the verse and properly emphasizing certain sounds the poet creates a mesmerizing description of a creature, and bridges the barrier between descriptive language and the natural world.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Survival and Regret In The Works of Margaret Atwood
The short story holds a special place in American Literature as it as seen as primarily an American invention, a form that has evolved and established itself in America. The regionalist approach in particular has helped define literature that can be specifically identified as American, whether in the pastoral settings of Sherwood Anderson or the decidedly Southern approach of Kate Chopin. If one were to consider certain criteria when defining American short stories inclusion of regional flavor, dialect, and character studies that emphasize an individual’s search for meaning beyond the material. To the north, the writers of Canada, be they novelists, poets or short story authors, seem to be focused on something much different than their American counterparts. While American stories tend to emphasize personal quests for meaning, the works of many Canadian authors tend to focus on the individual in a hostile landscape. Perhaps borrowing from the rich history of Native American story traditions, many early Canadian writers focused on the role of natural environments and wildlife in the lives of their characters. The Canadian author Margaret Atwood certainly fits into this Canadian tradition, one that focuses on the struggle for survival, and the dominant role of the wilderness. On the other hand, Atwood has consistently redefined her style and approach to writing. Her most famous novel, The Handmaid’s Tale , is better categorized beside the totalitarian visions of George Orwell and Anthony Burgess, while her 2000 novel, The Blind Assassin , blends elements of domestic gothic and science fiction into a book that seems just as much about the art of writing as about the characters contained within. In 1989, Atwood published a collection of short stories titled Wilderness Tips . With this collection, Atwood focuses specifically on tales from her home country of Canada, and embraced her literary heritage with stories set in both the urban and wilderness landscapes of the North.
The story “Death By Landscape” can be described as mystery or gothic fiction for its horrific ending in which one of the two main characters vanishes into the Canadian wilderness, never to be seen again. But this story is just as much about childhood friendships, and the inevitable loss that results from our earliest relationships. “Death By Landscape” can also be seen as a meditation on a theme that Atwood has herself classified as distinctly “Canadian”, survival. Survival is already brought into focus from the opening paragraph of the story as the main character, Lois, has found herself widowed and living in Ottawa:
Immediately, the reader is presented with survival. The character is widowed, and left only with her pictures and memories. In her methodical style, Atwood relays a story of two young children meeting at summer camp, and forging a lasting friendship. Lois and Lucy only see each other every summer at Camp Manitou. Lois is introverted, while Lucy often brags about her bigger home and wealthy parents. Lois recognizes in Lucy a need for companionship, and their friendship quickly blossoms into a relationship in which all secrets and experiences are shared. The tragedy of Lucy’s disappearance, and probable death, centers around Atwood’s proposition that Lucy simply vanished into the wilderness, never to be heard from again. Unlike Lucy, Lois survived the canoe trip, but it is obvious from her memories that she questions and possibly even regrets her survival.
In an essay titled “Temporality and Margaret Atwood”, Alice Ridout notes that “the contemporary Canadian writer has to deal with surviving survival”(Ridout, 2). The whole of “Death By Landscape” seems to concern Lois’ inability to understand her survival, and her friend’s death. The narrator informs the reader that Lois “can remember everything, every detail; but it does her no good”(Atwood, 109) in reference to Lucy’s disappearance. What follows is a detailed recollection of the next two-day’s events in which the Lois and Lucy embark on their first canoe trip. Lucy is last seen on the edge of a cliff, joking about jumping off into the water below. The narrator is third-person, so there is no question that the events of the disappearance are accurate, as they are not relayed by Lois. At the end of the story the reader learns that Lois has not ventured into the wilderness since the day Lucy disappeared:
It seems as if her entire life has been altered by what can only be described as a probable accident in the woods. For some reason or another, Lois survived this accident, and she has yet to accept the fact that her life was just as valuable as that of her lost friend. Though Lois’ walls are adorned with landscape paintings of the woods and lakes of Canada, Lois’ inability to reconnect with the wilderness seems to be connected to her regrets about Lucy’s death. As Ridout mentioned, Atwood seems to have moved from stories of survival into explorations of the emotions of those who lived to tell the tale, and are haunted by the memories of the wilderness, or the ghosts left behind.
In an essay for The New York Review of Books , Joyce Carol Oates points out Atwood’s claim “that each country or culture has a single dominant symbol at its core”(Oates, 2). These symbols are identified as “Frontier (America), The Island (England), and Survival, or la Survivance (Canada)”(Oates, 2). Oates includes a quote from Atwood in which the author explains further the concept of survival:
It is interesting to consider a number of Atwood’s works and see how this simple statement of intent is often repeated through her stories and characters. The Handmaid’s Tale, the story of a woman who has survived a genocidal regime, The Blind Assassin , the story of a woman who has survived arranged marriage and the suicide of her sister, and then Oryx And Crake, a story of a man who has seemingly survived the apocalypse. Like Lois in “Death By Landscape”, the character of Snowman or Jimmy in Oryx And Crake, lives in a world of memories. Near the end of the novel Snowman recounts the events that ultimately lead to the extinction of Homo Sapiens from the face of the earth. Snowman is locked in a laboratory complex where he watches the cataclysm unfold on television. He spends his days drunk and high on marijuana that his friend Crake grew in the lab. Once he realizes that he has in fact survived the plague that wipes out humanity, Snowman begins to feel what can be characterized as regret for his survival. The reader learns that after the plague Snowman “considered killing himself”(Oryx And Crake, 344), and he descends into delusion watching visions of his mother and his former lover appear before him in the dark. This scene is strikingly similar to the final scene of “Death By Landscape” as Lois sits alone in her apartment, staring into her paintings. Lois doesn’t see Lucy as Snowman does his mother and Oryx, but in the paintings of lakes and trees she knows her lost friend is “hidden by the clutch of fallen rocks” or “behind the tree that cannot be seen”(Atwood, 118). Again readers are confronted with this idea of “surviving survival”, and this theme or idea brings up an entirely new issue, that of what survival means beyond the tragic events that characters escape from.
Lois and Snowman both continue to be haunted by their past, and this is connected to their expressed regret. When put into the context of history these two characters of Atwood are perhaps a reflection of changing attitudes in Canadian writers and a degradation of the nationalism once emphasized by Canada’s cultural critics in the 1970s. Coral Ann Howells notes a “marked shift away from the optimism of the 1970s towards visions of loss and disempowerment”(Howells, 33). Commenting on the collection in its entirety Howell claims:
Applying Howell’s statement to "Death By Landscape" is worthwhile not only for the purpose of understanding whether or not Howell is correct in her assertion, but maybe to see how Atwood has moved n her works in relation to her feelings about Canadian and Western culture. Lois lives alone in Ottawa where she is sometimes able to view across the river when pollution isn’t too thick. As the story progresses, it moves backwards in time. The reader learns about the counselors at Camp Manitou and their penchant for Native American stereotypes. This can be read a number of ways, maybe as a nod towards nostalgia or perhaps Atwood is commenting on the emergence of the First Nation in Canadian politics. Lois’ memories of her counselors dressing up in blankets and headdresses are also part of her memories of Lucy. Just as Lucy’s death signifies and end to Lois’ innocence, so does the fate of Camp Manitou. After Lucy disappears, so does the summer camp.. Gone are the silly costumes and mock tribal ceremonies, becoming only memories as Canada begins to deal with the past injustices against the native tribes. In relation to the idea of cultural identity, the reader can examine the passages that refer to Lois’ picture collection. Several prominent Canadian artists are named, but Lois’ reasons for purchasing the art has little to do with their cultural or artistic significance, and more to do with Lois’ memories of the wilderness. To Lois the paintings represent her lost innocence and her regrets about her survival.
If it is accepted that Canadian Literature deals overtly with themes and ideas of survival, then an examination of Margaret Atwood’s more recent works reveal a decisive shift away from this to an understanding of what it is to survive, and where the survivors go once they escape danger. This shift can be seen as a reflection of a greater question facing the citizens of Canada. What is there after the brutality of Canadian winter that used to claim so many lives? What is there after the expanse of the continent has been conquered by rail, car, and plane? For Atwood, the answers seem to be not quite as simple as once understood, that it is simply good to survive. The answers, if there are any, lie somewhere in how Canadians, and for that matter people of all countries, deal with an aftermath of tragedy, or even triumph.
The story “Death By Landscape” can be described as mystery or gothic fiction for its horrific ending in which one of the two main characters vanishes into the Canadian wilderness, never to be seen again. But this story is just as much about childhood friendships, and the inevitable loss that results from our earliest relationships. “Death By Landscape” can also be seen as a meditation on a theme that Atwood has herself classified as distinctly “Canadian”, survival. Survival is already brought into focus from the opening paragraph of the story as the main character, Lois, has found herself widowed and living in Ottawa:
“Now that the boys are grown up and Rob is dead, Lois has moved
to a condominium apartment in one of the newer waterfront
developments. She is relieved not to have to worry about the lawn,
or about the ivy pushing its muscular little suckers into the
brickwork, or the squirrels gnawing their way into the attic and
and eating the insulation”(Atwood, 99).
Immediately, the reader is presented with survival. The character is widowed, and left only with her pictures and memories. In her methodical style, Atwood relays a story of two young children meeting at summer camp, and forging a lasting friendship. Lois and Lucy only see each other every summer at Camp Manitou. Lois is introverted, while Lucy often brags about her bigger home and wealthy parents. Lois recognizes in Lucy a need for companionship, and their friendship quickly blossoms into a relationship in which all secrets and experiences are shared. The tragedy of Lucy’s disappearance, and probable death, centers around Atwood’s proposition that Lucy simply vanished into the wilderness, never to be heard from again. Unlike Lucy, Lois survived the canoe trip, but it is obvious from her memories that she questions and possibly even regrets her survival.
In an essay titled “Temporality and Margaret Atwood”, Alice Ridout notes that “the contemporary Canadian writer has to deal with surviving survival”(Ridout, 2). The whole of “Death By Landscape” seems to concern Lois’ inability to understand her survival, and her friend’s death. The narrator informs the reader that Lois “can remember everything, every detail; but it does her no good”(Atwood, 109) in reference to Lucy’s disappearance. What follows is a detailed recollection of the next two-day’s events in which the Lois and Lucy embark on their first canoe trip. Lucy is last seen on the edge of a cliff, joking about jumping off into the water below. The narrator is third-person, so there is no question that the events of the disappearance are accurate, as they are not relayed by Lois. At the end of the story the reader learns that Lois has not ventured into the wilderness since the day Lucy disappeared:
“She would never go up north, to Rob’s family cottage
or to any place with wild lakes and wild trees and the
the calls of loons”(Atwood, 117).
It seems as if her entire life has been altered by what can only be described as a probable accident in the woods. For some reason or another, Lois survived this accident, and she has yet to accept the fact that her life was just as valuable as that of her lost friend. Though Lois’ walls are adorned with landscape paintings of the woods and lakes of Canada, Lois’ inability to reconnect with the wilderness seems to be connected to her regrets about Lucy’s death. As Ridout mentioned, Atwood seems to have moved from stories of survival into explorations of the emotions of those who lived to tell the tale, and are haunted by the memories of the wilderness, or the ghosts left behind.
In an essay for The New York Review of Books , Joyce Carol Oates points out Atwood’s claim “that each country or culture has a single dominant symbol at its core”(Oates, 2). These symbols are identified as “Frontier (America), The Island (England), and Survival, or la Survivance (Canada)”(Oates, 2). Oates includes a quote from Atwood in which the author explains further the concept of survival:
“Our stories are likely to be tales not of those who made it but of those who made it back, from the awful experience - the North, the snowstorm, the sinking ship - that killed everyone else. The survivor has no triumph or victory but the fact of his survival”(Oates, 2)
It is interesting to consider a number of Atwood’s works and see how this simple statement of intent is often repeated through her stories and characters. The Handmaid’s Tale, the story of a woman who has survived a genocidal regime, The Blind Assassin , the story of a woman who has survived arranged marriage and the suicide of her sister, and then Oryx And Crake, a story of a man who has seemingly survived the apocalypse. Like Lois in “Death By Landscape”, the character of Snowman or Jimmy in Oryx And Crake, lives in a world of memories. Near the end of the novel Snowman recounts the events that ultimately lead to the extinction of Homo Sapiens from the face of the earth. Snowman is locked in a laboratory complex where he watches the cataclysm unfold on television. He spends his days drunk and high on marijuana that his friend Crake grew in the lab. Once he realizes that he has in fact survived the plague that wipes out humanity, Snowman begins to feel what can be characterized as regret for his survival. The reader learns that after the plague Snowman “considered killing himself”(Oryx And Crake, 344), and he descends into delusion watching visions of his mother and his former lover appear before him in the dark. This scene is strikingly similar to the final scene of “Death By Landscape” as Lois sits alone in her apartment, staring into her paintings. Lois doesn’t see Lucy as Snowman does his mother and Oryx, but in the paintings of lakes and trees she knows her lost friend is “hidden by the clutch of fallen rocks” or “behind the tree that cannot be seen”(Atwood, 118). Again readers are confronted with this idea of “surviving survival”, and this theme or idea brings up an entirely new issue, that of what survival means beyond the tragic events that characters escape from.
Lois and Snowman both continue to be haunted by their past, and this is connected to their expressed regret. When put into the context of history these two characters of Atwood are perhaps a reflection of changing attitudes in Canadian writers and a degradation of the nationalism once emphasized by Canada’s cultural critics in the 1970s. Coral Ann Howells notes a “marked shift away from the optimism of the 1970s towards visions of loss and disempowerment”(Howells, 33). Commenting on the collection in its entirety Howell claims:
“...with the short story collection Wilderness Tips the emphasis
has shifted to a much bleaker reader where wilderness as
geographical place is under threat from pollution and the spread
of urbanisation, while as cultural myth of national identity
stands in need of revision”(Howells, 21).
Applying Howell’s statement to "Death By Landscape" is worthwhile not only for the purpose of understanding whether or not Howell is correct in her assertion, but maybe to see how Atwood has moved n her works in relation to her feelings about Canadian and Western culture. Lois lives alone in Ottawa where she is sometimes able to view across the river when pollution isn’t too thick. As the story progresses, it moves backwards in time. The reader learns about the counselors at Camp Manitou and their penchant for Native American stereotypes. This can be read a number of ways, maybe as a nod towards nostalgia or perhaps Atwood is commenting on the emergence of the First Nation in Canadian politics. Lois’ memories of her counselors dressing up in blankets and headdresses are also part of her memories of Lucy. Just as Lucy’s death signifies and end to Lois’ innocence, so does the fate of Camp Manitou. After Lucy disappears, so does the summer camp.. Gone are the silly costumes and mock tribal ceremonies, becoming only memories as Canada begins to deal with the past injustices against the native tribes. In relation to the idea of cultural identity, the reader can examine the passages that refer to Lois’ picture collection. Several prominent Canadian artists are named, but Lois’ reasons for purchasing the art has little to do with their cultural or artistic significance, and more to do with Lois’ memories of the wilderness. To Lois the paintings represent her lost innocence and her regrets about her survival.
If it is accepted that Canadian Literature deals overtly with themes and ideas of survival, then an examination of Margaret Atwood’s more recent works reveal a decisive shift away from this to an understanding of what it is to survive, and where the survivors go once they escape danger. This shift can be seen as a reflection of a greater question facing the citizens of Canada. What is there after the brutality of Canadian winter that used to claim so many lives? What is there after the expanse of the continent has been conquered by rail, car, and plane? For Atwood, the answers seem to be not quite as simple as once understood, that it is simply good to survive. The answers, if there are any, lie somewhere in how Canadians, and for that matter people of all countries, deal with an aftermath of tragedy, or even triumph.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Kate Chopin And Her Critics: Edna and Calixta Interpreted and Misunderstood
Kate Chopin published The Awakening in a climate of great progress throughout the United States, but her own progressive fiction came close to being universally condemned by literary critics. Chopin offered in the character of Edna Pontellier a glimpse at the role of women that turn-of-the-century America was sure to produce, complex women not content in their roles as mothers and homemakers, and determined to live their lives on their own terms. Hardly a shocking concept today, but to her critics, Chopin’s novel not only questioned a woman’s role in society, but attacked the very foundations of Western culture and ethics. Chopin’s story "The Storm" was not published until 1969, and considering the rather harsh reaction towards The Awakening, there is little wonder as to why Chopin never published the story while she was alive. Both works feature a female character that enters into an adulterous relationship, but the affair is where any similarity between Edna and "The Storm’s" Calixta begins and ends. Edna Pontellier lives in a world of confusing emotions, insecurity, and regret. Some critics have described The Awakening as an accurate portrayal of a woman in the midst of an nervous breakdown, while others interpret it as an expression of philosophical conflict. "The Storm", on the other hand, is a very short piece that does not address any of the complex question raised in an analysis of The Awakening, but the length of the story can be deceptive in an interpretation of a rich and expressive piece of literature. While the character of Edna and her impending tragedy is the author’s focus in The Awakening, Calixta functions more as a connective element in Chopin’s expressive meditation on sexuality and creation. These two works may share more differences that similarities, but Chopin’s intent seems similar throughout both. The author seemed to be striving to not only question the preferred roles of men and women, but to address central questions in 1899: Is humanity separate from the rest of life on earth in its desire for morality, or can our insistence on fixed morality betray our connection with the natural order? Is mankind just another animal, or does our advanced mind require that we live life above our impulses and desires?
"The Storm" seems to justify the impulses of Calixta and Alcee, but Edna’s search for inner peace brings only more pain into her lonely life. Whether or not Edna’s affair with Robert is the central event of The Awakening is arguable, but in "The Storm", the adulterous act is not only central, but the setting, tone, and dialogue of the story are all connected in Chopin’s expression of human sexuality. The Chopin scholar Per Seyersted notes that “the emphasis is on the momentary joy of the amoral cosmic force”(145), and “complete correspondence between theme...setting, plot, and character”(146). With this story, Chopin had probably helped elevate the genre of short fiction by writing not for the sake of clever plots and characters, but to help create an art form which could be utilized to convey a conception beyond the traditional aspects of the short story. The plot is nearly irrelevant, but what is important lies within the connections between Chopin’s characters and the natural world.. Seyersted states that “Chopin was not interested in the immoral itself, but in life as it comes, in what she saw as natural”(147). This amoral view of the physical certainly led to the harsh treatment of The Awakening by her critics. Russ Sprinkle of the English Department for Bowling Green University quotes at length a review from an 1899 issue of the New Orelans Times Democrat in his short essay “Kate Chopin’s The Awakening: A Critical Reception”. In one sentence the critic seems to be personally attacking Chopin for the creation of her characters:
Notice that this critic does not address the artistic value of the novel nor Chopin’s abilities as a writer. Instead there is a direct attack on the ideas, accurately understood or not, in Chopin’s work. This passage reads not as a serious literary review, but instead as a lecture on the “proper” roles of men and women in what the critic deems a “civilized” society. Chopin’s frustration must have been insurmountable, and it is little wonder why she never published "The Storm" during her lifetime. What is most curious about the above quoted review is the critic’s willingness to enter into an editorial styled discussion about Edna as if she was an actual person. Chopin was undoubtedly puzzled by her critic’s insistence that fictional characters should somehow be judged by their actions, rather than examining the world in which the characters live. Chopin was later quoted as saying “I never dreamed of Mrs. Pontellier making such a mess of things and working out her own damnation as she did”(Sprinkle, 4). Through the character of Edna, Chopin was challenging the ideas of what was expected and acceptable of American women in 1899, and many obviously felt that she had taken this challenge too far with her novel. Chopin’s critics were fixated on her perceived “frontal assault” on societal mores, and seemingly unable to address the profound philosophical and psychological issues raised in her novel.
In his short essay on "The Storm" Per Seyersted states that he sees the story as a tale “about the tension between the male and the female”(Seyersted, 145). Seyersted makes this claim not only about the minimalist plot, but the story in its entirety. This seems a particularly important observation when a reader wants to understand what Chopin may have been trying to say through her characters and the world around them. Chopin was focused not so much on the moral questions raised in her stories, unlike her critics, but instead on ancient questions on mankind’s duality. In the Southern Literary Journal, Patricia Bradley goes so far as to propose a distinct influence on Chopin from the most famous of German philosophers, Friedrich Nietzche. Bradley points out that Chopin could very well have been exposed to Nietzche’s theories while living in St. Louis, as the city was home to a considerable German immigrant population. In her essay titled “The Birth of Tragedy and The Awakening: Influences and Intertextualities”, Bradley proposes that The Awakening “tends to bear out Kate Chopin’s familiarity with Friedrich Nietzche’s philosophies, especially those in The Birth Of Tragedy”(Bradley, 5). Nietzche’s essay concerned itself with the tensions and conflict between Apollonian and Dionysian thought, Apollonian representing the individual and detached view of the universe and Dionysian representing the chaotic, and some would argue, true state of nature, a universe of endless change and disorder. Nietzche believed that these two “forces” must coexist in order to contribute to a sense of balance in life. Bradley observes that Nietzche’s required tension plays a prominent role in The Awakening:
Going back to Seyersted’s observations on "The Storm" pertaining to the tension between the masculine and the feminine, it is worth comparing the events of the short story and The Awakening. If it is accepted, as Bradley asserts, that The Awakening addresses this philosophical tension of two personality and/or creative forces, then it is interesting to observe Seyersted’s claim about the The Storm. In the short story, there is no merging of the Apollonian and Dionysian. There is no rivalry of opposing world views, only the Dionysian force makes itself known in The Storm. Instead of competing fraternal characters, and philosophical tension, the reader sees only the chaos of the universe, and the explosion of energy that results from connections and conflict between the masculine and feminine. If Edna’s life represent the “necessary merging” that Bradley claims, then Calixta’s life can be seen to represent a victory for the Dionysiac. Gone are the Apolline need for individual worth and aritistic focus, and instead Chopin brings the reader into a world where the tumult of the universe is merged with human sexuality into a unified statement of the inarguable connection between love, violence (the storm), and the physical act of procreation. This discussion of Nietzchean allusions in Chopin’s work has left out one very important detail. At no point in The Awakening does the author mention the name Friedrich Nietzche. However, one important philosopher is specifically mentioned in the novel, Ralph Waldo Emerson. Edna is seen reading Emerson after dinner one evening. According to Anthony P. Petruzzi, “Chopin is one of the first writers to present Emersonian themes in a way that is consonant with the post-modernist critical effort to ‘de-transendentalize’”(Petruzzi, 287).
Petruzzi’s essay, titled “Two Modes of Disclosure In Kate Chopin’s The Awakening”, is an examination Chopin’s use of Emersonian themes, and Petruzzi ultimately argues that The Awakening can be seen as a criticism of Emerson’s philosophy by Chopin:
Chopin’s critics in 1899 lambasted the author for what was viewed as an amoral treatment of suicide by a married mother. But as Petruzzi points out, perhaps the treatment of Edna’s suicide was not ultimately an endorsement of amoral behavior or beliefs. Petruzzi characterizes Edna’s “desire” to merge with the sea as “a form of nullification of her being”(Petruzzi, 291). Using this basis, an interesting comparison can once again be made between Edna and Calixta. If it accepted, as Petruzzi argues, that Edna strives to merge with a greater natural force (the sea), then it is worth noting that Calixta makes no such effort, but instead is presented as already part of this “force beyond herself”as Petrucci states. Edna ultimately rejects the act of sex because she is still left feeling as if her life is empty of some meaning, but Calixta never considers the meaning that the physical act contributes to her life. While Edna strives through art, love, and social intercourse, to establish some grounding, some relevance in her life, Calixta instead lives in each moment, realizing that her life is little but a series of moments and experiences. Chopin’s 1899 critics were also troubled by her questioning of gender roles. In the Mississippi Quarterly, Karen Simon argues that “ the focus on gender/self limits the scope of Chopin’s vision”(Simon, 1).
Simon proposes that Edna’s life should not be viewed as a commentary on gender specifically, but an examination of the greater human condition. In doing so, Simon points to a quote from Chopin herself:
It appears as if Chopin has addressed both the critics of The Awakening, and at the same time outlined the ideas expressed in The Storm. While her critics focused on her treatment of gender roles it is quite apparent that Chopin was much more interested in addressing, through Edna and Calixta, the idea that humans interact not because of societal roles, but instead as creatures of nature. Through the characters of Edna and Calixta, Chopin was addressing the question of human impulse, rather than questioning gender roles in 1899. Further support of this can be found in an essay by Donald Pizer. In this essay Pizer argues that Edna’s rejection of her children, but is still “incapable of resisting emotions of obligation toward her children”(Pizer, 7). Pizer views The Awakening through a scope of naturalistic fiction, and this perspective does put into question any criticism that Chopin sought to attack or criticize orthodoxies concerning gender roles in turn-of-the-century America. When compared with Calixta through this perspective the reader can begin to understand Edna as perhaps an “unhealthy” subject as compared to Calixta’s more “healthy” approach towards her sexuality and place in her universe, the chaotic yet at the same time natural world of "The Storm".
Chopin dealt with an act of adultery in two very different, yet deliberate methods. In The Storm the act is portrayed as just another burst of energy is a world that revolves around the release of creative forces. In The Awakening the affair seems to only contribute to Edna’s suffering, and leads her only further into loneliness and confusion. It is obvious that in The Awakening, Chopin was not merely focused on social criticism or shock-value as her early critics seemed to insist, but was instead weaving a dense narrative that questioned several key philosophical approaches that were quickly gaining prominence in the world. While Edna is used to express Chopin’s apprehension towards a changing plane of reason and rhetoric, the character of Calixta is part of an expressive picture painted by the author.
"The Storm" seems to justify the impulses of Calixta and Alcee, but Edna’s search for inner peace brings only more pain into her lonely life. Whether or not Edna’s affair with Robert is the central event of The Awakening is arguable, but in "The Storm", the adulterous act is not only central, but the setting, tone, and dialogue of the story are all connected in Chopin’s expression of human sexuality. The Chopin scholar Per Seyersted notes that “the emphasis is on the momentary joy of the amoral cosmic force”(145), and “complete correspondence between theme...setting, plot, and character”(146). With this story, Chopin had probably helped elevate the genre of short fiction by writing not for the sake of clever plots and characters, but to help create an art form which could be utilized to convey a conception beyond the traditional aspects of the short story. The plot is nearly irrelevant, but what is important lies within the connections between Chopin’s characters and the natural world.. Seyersted states that “Chopin was not interested in the immoral itself, but in life as it comes, in what she saw as natural”(147). This amoral view of the physical certainly led to the harsh treatment of The Awakening by her critics. Russ Sprinkle of the English Department for Bowling Green University quotes at length a review from an 1899 issue of the New Orelans Times Democrat in his short essay “Kate Chopin’s The Awakening: A Critical Reception”. In one sentence the critic seems to be personally attacking Chopin for the creation of her characters:
“In a civilized society the right of the individual to indulge all his caprices is, and must be, subject to many restrictive clauses, and it cannot for a moment be admitted that a woman who has willingly accepted the love and devotion of a man, even without an equal love on her part – who has become his wife and the mother of his children – has not incurred a moral obligation which peremptorily forbids her from wantonly severing her relations with with him, and entering openly upon the independent existence ofan unmarried woman”(Sprinkle, 2).
Notice that this critic does not address the artistic value of the novel nor Chopin’s abilities as a writer. Instead there is a direct attack on the ideas, accurately understood or not, in Chopin’s work. This passage reads not as a serious literary review, but instead as a lecture on the “proper” roles of men and women in what the critic deems a “civilized” society. Chopin’s frustration must have been insurmountable, and it is little wonder why she never published "The Storm" during her lifetime. What is most curious about the above quoted review is the critic’s willingness to enter into an editorial styled discussion about Edna as if she was an actual person. Chopin was undoubtedly puzzled by her critic’s insistence that fictional characters should somehow be judged by their actions, rather than examining the world in which the characters live. Chopin was later quoted as saying “I never dreamed of Mrs. Pontellier making such a mess of things and working out her own damnation as she did”(Sprinkle, 4). Through the character of Edna, Chopin was challenging the ideas of what was expected and acceptable of American women in 1899, and many obviously felt that she had taken this challenge too far with her novel. Chopin’s critics were fixated on her perceived “frontal assault” on societal mores, and seemingly unable to address the profound philosophical and psychological issues raised in her novel.
In his short essay on "The Storm" Per Seyersted states that he sees the story as a tale “about the tension between the male and the female”(Seyersted, 145). Seyersted makes this claim not only about the minimalist plot, but the story in its entirety. This seems a particularly important observation when a reader wants to understand what Chopin may have been trying to say through her characters and the world around them. Chopin was focused not so much on the moral questions raised in her stories, unlike her critics, but instead on ancient questions on mankind’s duality. In the Southern Literary Journal, Patricia Bradley goes so far as to propose a distinct influence on Chopin from the most famous of German philosophers, Friedrich Nietzche. Bradley points out that Chopin could very well have been exposed to Nietzche’s theories while living in St. Louis, as the city was home to a considerable German immigrant population. In her essay titled “The Birth of Tragedy and The Awakening: Influences and Intertextualities”, Bradley proposes that The Awakening “tends to bear out Kate Chopin’s familiarity with Friedrich Nietzche’s philosophies, especially those in The Birth Of Tragedy”(Bradley, 5). Nietzche’s essay concerned itself with the tensions and conflict between Apollonian and Dionysian thought, Apollonian representing the individual and detached view of the universe and Dionysian representing the chaotic, and some would argue, true state of nature, a universe of endless change and disorder. Nietzche believed that these two “forces” must coexist in order to contribute to a sense of balance in life. Bradley observes that Nietzche’s required tension plays a prominent role in The Awakening:
“In The Awakening, Edna’s experiences replicate the difficult but necessary Nietzchean merging of the Apollonian and Dionysian, the qualities of which Kate Chopin emobides in the sibling rivalries of Robert and Victor Lebrun. Strikingly, and several Times over in “The Birth of Tragedy”, Nietzche himself symbolically envisions ‘the difficult relationship of the
Apolline and Dionysiac...by a fraternal bond between the two deities”(Bradley, 5).
Going back to Seyersted’s observations on "The Storm" pertaining to the tension between the masculine and the feminine, it is worth comparing the events of the short story and The Awakening. If it is accepted, as Bradley asserts, that The Awakening addresses this philosophical tension of two personality and/or creative forces, then it is interesting to observe Seyersted’s claim about the The Storm. In the short story, there is no merging of the Apollonian and Dionysian. There is no rivalry of opposing world views, only the Dionysian force makes itself known in The Storm. Instead of competing fraternal characters, and philosophical tension, the reader sees only the chaos of the universe, and the explosion of energy that results from connections and conflict between the masculine and feminine. If Edna’s life represent the “necessary merging” that Bradley claims, then Calixta’s life can be seen to represent a victory for the Dionysiac. Gone are the Apolline need for individual worth and aritistic focus, and instead Chopin brings the reader into a world where the tumult of the universe is merged with human sexuality into a unified statement of the inarguable connection between love, violence (the storm), and the physical act of procreation. This discussion of Nietzchean allusions in Chopin’s work has left out one very important detail. At no point in The Awakening does the author mention the name Friedrich Nietzche. However, one important philosopher is specifically mentioned in the novel, Ralph Waldo Emerson. Edna is seen reading Emerson after dinner one evening. According to Anthony P. Petruzzi, “Chopin is one of the first writers to present Emersonian themes in a way that is consonant with the post-modernist critical effort to ‘de-transendentalize’”(Petruzzi, 287).
Petruzzi’s essay, titled “Two Modes of Disclosure In Kate Chopin’s The Awakening”, is an examination Chopin’s use of Emersonian themes, and Petruzzi ultimately argues that The Awakening can be seen as a criticism of Emerson’s philosophy by Chopin:
“Chopin considers the idealistic interpretation of Transcendentalism a metaphysical trap,a diminishment of freedom, which I will call a ‘pure nihilism.’ It is the force that takes the world out of Pontellier’s hands. Chopin frames Pontellier’s story as a struggle to reconceptualize both how she leads her life and how she could create a world”(Petruzzi, 289).
Chopin’s critics in 1899 lambasted the author for what was viewed as an amoral treatment of suicide by a married mother. But as Petruzzi points out, perhaps the treatment of Edna’s suicide was not ultimately an endorsement of amoral behavior or beliefs. Petruzzi characterizes Edna’s “desire” to merge with the sea as “a form of nullification of her being”(Petruzzi, 291). Using this basis, an interesting comparison can once again be made between Edna and Calixta. If it accepted, as Petruzzi argues, that Edna strives to merge with a greater natural force (the sea), then it is worth noting that Calixta makes no such effort, but instead is presented as already part of this “force beyond herself”as Petrucci states. Edna ultimately rejects the act of sex because she is still left feeling as if her life is empty of some meaning, but Calixta never considers the meaning that the physical act contributes to her life. While Edna strives through art, love, and social intercourse, to establish some grounding, some relevance in her life, Calixta instead lives in each moment, realizing that her life is little but a series of moments and experiences. Chopin’s 1899 critics were also troubled by her questioning of gender roles. In the Mississippi Quarterly, Karen Simon argues that “ the focus on gender/self limits the scope of Chopin’s vision”(Simon, 1).
Simon proposes that Edna’s life should not be viewed as a commentary on gender specifically, but an examination of the greater human condition. In doing so, Simon points to a quote from Chopin herself:
“Human impulses do not change and can not so long as men and women continue to stand in the relation to one another which they have occupied since our knowledge of their existence began. It is why Aeschylus is true, and Shakespeare is true to-day, and why Ibsen will not be true in some remote tomorrow, however forcible and representative he may be for the hour , because he takes for his themes social problems which by their very nature are mutable”(Simon, 2).
It appears as if Chopin has addressed both the critics of The Awakening, and at the same time outlined the ideas expressed in The Storm. While her critics focused on her treatment of gender roles it is quite apparent that Chopin was much more interested in addressing, through Edna and Calixta, the idea that humans interact not because of societal roles, but instead as creatures of nature. Through the characters of Edna and Calixta, Chopin was addressing the question of human impulse, rather than questioning gender roles in 1899. Further support of this can be found in an essay by Donald Pizer. In this essay Pizer argues that Edna’s rejection of her children, but is still “incapable of resisting emotions of obligation toward her children”(Pizer, 7). Pizer views The Awakening through a scope of naturalistic fiction, and this perspective does put into question any criticism that Chopin sought to attack or criticize orthodoxies concerning gender roles in turn-of-the-century America. When compared with Calixta through this perspective the reader can begin to understand Edna as perhaps an “unhealthy” subject as compared to Calixta’s more “healthy” approach towards her sexuality and place in her universe, the chaotic yet at the same time natural world of "The Storm".
Chopin dealt with an act of adultery in two very different, yet deliberate methods. In The Storm the act is portrayed as just another burst of energy is a world that revolves around the release of creative forces. In The Awakening the affair seems to only contribute to Edna’s suffering, and leads her only further into loneliness and confusion. It is obvious that in The Awakening, Chopin was not merely focused on social criticism or shock-value as her early critics seemed to insist, but was instead weaving a dense narrative that questioned several key philosophical approaches that were quickly gaining prominence in the world. While Edna is used to express Chopin’s apprehension towards a changing plane of reason and rhetoric, the character of Calixta is part of an expressive picture painted by the author.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Seyersted On Kate Chopin's "The Storm"
Per Seyersted’s essay on the Kate Chopin story “The Storm” first appeared in his 1969 book Kate Chopin: A Critical Biography. The version of the essay used in the writing of this paper was taken from a collection of criticism’s on Chopin titled Kate Chopin: A Study of the Short Fiction, which was written and compiled by Bernard Koloski. Per Seyersted employs a formalist approach in his critique of “The Storm”, and this proves effective in that the critic proposes the story is not one of antagonism between the sexes. While a feminist critic may certainly be able to comment on Chopin’s portrayal of Calixta, Seyersted proposes that Chopin “never raises a moral finger”(Koloski 145)in her portrayal of the story’s characters. Seyersted’s formalist approach compliments the tone of “The Storm” as this is a story that moves within language and description. There are several instances in which the critic compares Chopin to D.H. Lawrence, another writer to whom tone and setting contributed significantly within his works. By doing so Seyersted’s perspective may be revealed as a critic with a very specific taste, that which trends towards prose for the sake of language, and tone for the sake of theme. As a formalist is concerned with tone and structure this approach is particularly effective when dealing with this story which Chopin develops meaning not through a conventional storyline, but through description. Seyersted notes that “The Storm” is absent of the “suspense of plot” in Chopin’s other tale from the life of Alcee “At the ‘Cadian Ball’”. This addresses and supports the critic’s central arguement:
This argument is compelling in the sense that it addresses the idea that the short-story, particularly this text, is not just a vehicle for entertainment, but a deliberate artistic tool in which ideas can be expressed through a union of tone, word choice, and description.
One of the points Seyersted uses to support his overall argument is that “The Storm” is a story about “the tension between the male and the female, the assertive and receptive principles.” He notes the threat of flood and the fertile fields exposed to nature’s elements. This assertion is supported by Chopin’s decision to open the story with a brief scene between Calixta’s husband and son, Bibi and Bobinot. By doing so Chopin may be demonstrating a pervasive sense of separation and tension within Calixta’s household. When Chopin introduces Calixta she feels “no uneasiness for their safety.” Calixta is instead focused on her sewing. Seyersted points out that sewing is “a popular metaphor for sexual intercourse”(Koloski 146). However, the critic offers no evidence to back up this assertion. Perhaps by including other instances in literature in which sewing was used in this matter may have been helpful to readers who are not as familiar with “popular metaphors”, but this essay was presumably written for an audience already interested in the history and identification of recurrent symbolism and metaphor.
Seyersted spends only one paragraph discussing the diction of “The Storm”, and this provides the reader with one of the few instances in which the critic makes an observation that can be construed as negative towards Chopin. He describes several phrases as “excessive”, “old fashioned”, and stale. Whether by coincidence or not it is worth noting that two of the phrases which Seyersted takes exception appear in exactly the same paragraph, and within one sentence of each other. The critic characterizes “well nigh”(183) and “lips...to be tasted” in this manner, and they both appear in the paragraph immediately preceding the portrayal of the lover’s act. Perhaps by pointing out his dissatisfaction with these word choices Seyersted is suggesting that they somehow detract from the overall effectiveness of the story, one which he argues is based on “complete correspondence between theme, on the one hand, and setting, plot, and character, on the other”(146). His inclusion of these observations on Chopin’s vocabulary choices is puzzling, as it is only one paragraph long, and the critic spends the rest of this short essay praising Chopin’s tone and the unity of her prose. Seyersted strengthens his argument that “The Storm” focuses on “momentary joy” by briefly comparing this piece to other works addressing sexual issues and themes. Madame Bovary is mentioned, but Seyersted claims that Chopin “outdistanced her compatriots” in the treatment of the subject. He stresses that Chopin’s “open”(147) account of the lover’s actions is “minor point”, and what is more important is Chopin’s emphasis on the act as “healthy” and “happy”.
What Seyersted brings up in his criticism is fundamental to a reader’s understanding of this story, and perhaps other works by Chopin. Seyersted notes the author’s “detached” approach to the characters of Alcee and Calixta, and this treatment by Chopin is central to a deeper understanding of her intentions as an artist. The narrator serves the reader only to present the characters and action, and never to place judgement.“The Storm” is a short piece, but when viewed as Seyersted suggests, as a piece unified through both theme and action, then the reader should understand that “The Storm” serves more as a unified expression rather than a linear tale. This puts this piece into a realm of fiction that goes beyond conventional devices, and instead creates a unified vision of that moment when natural energy and human emotions unite.
“The emphasis is on the momentary joy of the amoral cosmic force, but the story’s all-pervasive use of primordial symbolism strengthens the undertone of the serious, timeless aspect of Eros”(Koloski 145).
This argument is compelling in the sense that it addresses the idea that the short-story, particularly this text, is not just a vehicle for entertainment, but a deliberate artistic tool in which ideas can be expressed through a union of tone, word choice, and description.
One of the points Seyersted uses to support his overall argument is that “The Storm” is a story about “the tension between the male and the female, the assertive and receptive principles.” He notes the threat of flood and the fertile fields exposed to nature’s elements. This assertion is supported by Chopin’s decision to open the story with a brief scene between Calixta’s husband and son, Bibi and Bobinot. By doing so Chopin may be demonstrating a pervasive sense of separation and tension within Calixta’s household. When Chopin introduces Calixta she feels “no uneasiness for their safety.” Calixta is instead focused on her sewing. Seyersted points out that sewing is “a popular metaphor for sexual intercourse”(Koloski 146). However, the critic offers no evidence to back up this assertion. Perhaps by including other instances in literature in which sewing was used in this matter may have been helpful to readers who are not as familiar with “popular metaphors”, but this essay was presumably written for an audience already interested in the history and identification of recurrent symbolism and metaphor.
Seyersted spends only one paragraph discussing the diction of “The Storm”, and this provides the reader with one of the few instances in which the critic makes an observation that can be construed as negative towards Chopin. He describes several phrases as “excessive”, “old fashioned”, and stale. Whether by coincidence or not it is worth noting that two of the phrases which Seyersted takes exception appear in exactly the same paragraph, and within one sentence of each other. The critic characterizes “well nigh”(183) and “lips...to be tasted” in this manner, and they both appear in the paragraph immediately preceding the portrayal of the lover’s act. Perhaps by pointing out his dissatisfaction with these word choices Seyersted is suggesting that they somehow detract from the overall effectiveness of the story, one which he argues is based on “complete correspondence between theme, on the one hand, and setting, plot, and character, on the other”(146). His inclusion of these observations on Chopin’s vocabulary choices is puzzling, as it is only one paragraph long, and the critic spends the rest of this short essay praising Chopin’s tone and the unity of her prose. Seyersted strengthens his argument that “The Storm” focuses on “momentary joy” by briefly comparing this piece to other works addressing sexual issues and themes. Madame Bovary is mentioned, but Seyersted claims that Chopin “outdistanced her compatriots” in the treatment of the subject. He stresses that Chopin’s “open”(147) account of the lover’s actions is “minor point”, and what is more important is Chopin’s emphasis on the act as “healthy” and “happy”.
What Seyersted brings up in his criticism is fundamental to a reader’s understanding of this story, and perhaps other works by Chopin. Seyersted notes the author’s “detached” approach to the characters of Alcee and Calixta, and this treatment by Chopin is central to a deeper understanding of her intentions as an artist. The narrator serves the reader only to present the characters and action, and never to place judgement.“The Storm” is a short piece, but when viewed as Seyersted suggests, as a piece unified through both theme and action, then the reader should understand that “The Storm” serves more as a unified expression rather than a linear tale. This puts this piece into a realm of fiction that goes beyond conventional devices, and instead creates a unified vision of that moment when natural energy and human emotions unite.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
The Visionary Experience in Aldous Huxley's Island
When Sir Thomas More coined the term “Utopia” in the naming of his novella by the same name he combined two Greek words when combined are defined as “no-place.” Aldous Huxley’s utopian vision, his final novel Island, can be described in the same way. The island of Pala described in the book is a product of Huxley’s imagination. It is truly no place. Island has been described as a novel of ideas, a philosophical tract, and a religious statement. Like More before him, Huxley invites his readers to explore the limits of human potential, and examine the current state of human society. Gone are Huxley’s previous indictments of science, government, and literary icons. Instead his audience is offered a sublime portrait of a perfected society, where fear and jealously seem non-existent, and progress is replaced with a permanent state of bliss. But Huxley doesn’t just present the island of Pala as a product of fiction, he also introduces the reader to a history of the island, and a detailed description of it’s education systems, family life, and religious practices. At the core of the society lies the institution of Mahayana Buddhism, and a reliance on what Huxley calls “the visionary experience.” For Huxley, this experience was a key element in the elevation of human consciousness, and subsequently the elevation of human society. On the island of Pala this heightened consciousness is achieved not only through meditation, but through the use of a mind-altering drug known as the moksha-medicine. Huxley himself commented on this aspect of Island in a 1963 essay titled “Culture and the Individual”:
This statement is a perfect starting point for an examination of Huxley’s Island, and the importance of the exploration of inner-consciousness in the land of Pala.
To dismiss Island as a preposterously naïve proposal on the possibilities of human society may be too dismissive. After all, Pala is destroyed in the end of the novel, and Huxley includes this destruction in a purposeful manner. At the center of the novel lies the character of Will Farnaby, a man haunted by his own visions. Farnaby sees maggots in the place of people, and his former lover as a corpse. Early in the novel, during a conversation with the character Susila MacPhail, Will discusses when he first began to have hallucinations. He tells Susila that he first began to see people as maggots around the time of his favorite aunt’s death, and his subsequent failure as a serious writer. It appears that before Farnaby even arrives on Pala, that he is already subject to visionary experiences, but not the kind of experiences that result in what Huxley calls a communion with the “divine ground.” As Huxley notes in his famous discourse Heaven and Hell: “Negative emotions…are the guarantee that visionary experience, if and when it comes, shall be apalling”(48). Farnaby’s horrific hallucinations are not the product of a drug or transcendental meditation, but instead the result of his contact with Western society. The maggots may represent the cannibalistic nature of humans in a capitalist society, a nature Farnaby confronts when forced to betray his artistic ambitions. The final chapter of Island deals with Farnaby’s experience with the moksha-medicine, and his contact with the divine ground. Instead of his hallucinations taking the form of demonic apparitions, Farnaby’s moksha experience is the final stage in his conversion to the Palanese way of life. In his essay titled “Conradian Reminders in Aldous Huxley’s Island”, Jerome Meckier notes Will’s personal and spiritual growth:
Meckier refers to the Palanese religious ceremony which Farnaby witnesses in the mountains of the island. The ceremony is a right-of-passage for the youth of Pala, during which moksha is ingested during a Hindu religious ceremony. It is during this scene that Farnaby is introduced to the importance of the visionary experience in Palanese society.
Farnaby is brought into the mountains to observe two distinct ceremonies. The first involves young Palanese participating in mountain climbing, and thus confronting their natural fear of death. This leads to their taking of moksha, and indoctrination into the religion of Pala. The ceremony is centered around the worship and acknowledgement of the Hindu god Shiva-Nataraja. While Farnaby does not himself ingest moksha, he is still encouraged by his guide Dr. Robert, the patriarch of Pala, to witness Shiva “Dancing in all the worlds at once”(170). This is a direct reference to the Hindu myth of Shiva’s dance. An especially useful explanation of this myth is found in the book Myths of the Hindus and Buddhists by The Sister Nivedita:
As Will continues to watch the ceremony he is guided by the words of Dr. Robert, and quite deliberately, so is the reader. Says the doctor:
Here Dr. Robert (and the author) invites Farnaby (and the reader) to embrace the nature that Shiva represents. Shiva destroys, but he also creates in one swift movement of his dance. During this ceremony the visionary experience prompted by moksha medicine opens the minds of the youth to the acceptance of death as part of the “oneness” that defines the Palanese way of life. By accepting the presence of Shiva’s destructive, yet beautiful dance Farnaby and the young students are able to overcome what Huxley refers to in Perennial Philosophy as a “most formidible obstacle to the unitive knowledge of God”( 36). But Will’s own visionary experience is held in private, with only his new found friend Susila MacPhail to guide him through his enlightenment, and inevitable confrontation with “the essential horror.”
“The essential horror” that Will confronts in his moksha-induced visions first manifests itself in a pet lizard. The lizard is not a hallucination, but while observing it under the effects of moksha Will begins his descent into the “hell” that Huxley has warned the visionary experience sometimes leads. This leads to visions of insects cannibalizing their own, and then a military, which seems poised on the brink of Armageddon. Will is confronting death, violence, and cruelty all in an instant of self-realization that seems likely to drive him to insanity. But this is when Susila asks him to open his eyes, and see her face. It is at this point that Will finally realizes, through the use of moksha, that whatever permutations on the state of man lie within his mind, the true definition of humanity can be found on the simple inspection of a human face. The visionary experience has brought Will out of hell, and into the reality of the moment, and the true knowledge of the divine ground.
“In my utopian fantasy, Island, I speculated in fictional
terms about the ways in which a substance akin to
psilocybin could be used to potentiate the nonverbal
education of adolescents and to remind adults that
the real world is very different from the misshapen
universe they have created for themselves by means
of their culture-conditioned prejudices”( 5).
This statement is a perfect starting point for an examination of Huxley’s Island, and the importance of the exploration of inner-consciousness in the land of Pala.
To dismiss Island as a preposterously naïve proposal on the possibilities of human society may be too dismissive. After all, Pala is destroyed in the end of the novel, and Huxley includes this destruction in a purposeful manner. At the center of the novel lies the character of Will Farnaby, a man haunted by his own visions. Farnaby sees maggots in the place of people, and his former lover as a corpse. Early in the novel, during a conversation with the character Susila MacPhail, Will discusses when he first began to have hallucinations. He tells Susila that he first began to see people as maggots around the time of his favorite aunt’s death, and his subsequent failure as a serious writer. It appears that before Farnaby even arrives on Pala, that he is already subject to visionary experiences, but not the kind of experiences that result in what Huxley calls a communion with the “divine ground.” As Huxley notes in his famous discourse Heaven and Hell: “Negative emotions…are the guarantee that visionary experience, if and when it comes, shall be apalling”(48). Farnaby’s horrific hallucinations are not the product of a drug or transcendental meditation, but instead the result of his contact with Western society. The maggots may represent the cannibalistic nature of humans in a capitalist society, a nature Farnaby confronts when forced to betray his artistic ambitions. The final chapter of Island deals with Farnaby’s experience with the moksha-medicine, and his contact with the divine ground. Instead of his hallucinations taking the form of demonic apparitions, Farnaby’s moksha experience is the final stage in his conversion to the Palanese way of life. In his essay titled “Conradian Reminders in Aldous Huxley’s Island”, Jerome Meckier notes Will’s personal and spiritual growth:
“Although Susila MacPhail, Will’s guru, considers
him ready for an expansion of consciousness, the
jaded journalist is no prodigy. Most Palanese first
sample the “the reality revealer” as part of a
religious ceremony to mark their coming of age.
Nevertheless, Will has progressed. He entered
Pala by subterfuge as a sort of “secret agent”
for the West’s oil companies; his mission: to
secure mineral rights. Fourteen chapters later,
enamored of the Palanese way of life, he is a
candidate for visionary experience, which Huxley
regarded as a prelude to enlightenment”(Meckier 1).
Meckier refers to the Palanese religious ceremony which Farnaby witnesses in the mountains of the island. The ceremony is a right-of-passage for the youth of Pala, during which moksha is ingested during a Hindu religious ceremony. It is during this scene that Farnaby is introduced to the importance of the visionary experience in Palanese society.
Farnaby is brought into the mountains to observe two distinct ceremonies. The first involves young Palanese participating in mountain climbing, and thus confronting their natural fear of death. This leads to their taking of moksha, and indoctrination into the religion of Pala. The ceremony is centered around the worship and acknowledgement of the Hindu god Shiva-Nataraja. While Farnaby does not himself ingest moksha, he is still encouraged by his guide Dr. Robert, the patriarch of Pala, to witness Shiva “Dancing in all the worlds at once”(170). This is a direct reference to the Hindu myth of Shiva’s dance. An especially useful explanation of this myth is found in the book Myths of the Hindus and Buddhists by The Sister Nivedita:
“The dance itself represents the activity of Shiva as the
source of all movement within the universe, and especially
his five acts, creation, preservation, destruction, embodiment,
and release; its purpose is to release the souls of men from
illusion”(313).
As Will continues to watch the ceremony he is guided by the words of Dr. Robert, and quite deliberately, so is the reader. Says the doctor:
“Shut your eyes and see him towering into the night,
follow the boundless stretch of those arms and the
wild hair infinitely flying”(1).
Here Dr. Robert (and the author) invites Farnaby (and the reader) to embrace the nature that Shiva represents. Shiva destroys, but he also creates in one swift movement of his dance. During this ceremony the visionary experience prompted by moksha medicine opens the minds of the youth to the acceptance of death as part of the “oneness” that defines the Palanese way of life. By accepting the presence of Shiva’s destructive, yet beautiful dance Farnaby and the young students are able to overcome what Huxley refers to in Perennial Philosophy as a “most formidible obstacle to the unitive knowledge of God”( 36). But Will’s own visionary experience is held in private, with only his new found friend Susila MacPhail to guide him through his enlightenment, and inevitable confrontation with “the essential horror.”
“The essential horror” that Will confronts in his moksha-induced visions first manifests itself in a pet lizard. The lizard is not a hallucination, but while observing it under the effects of moksha Will begins his descent into the “hell” that Huxley has warned the visionary experience sometimes leads. This leads to visions of insects cannibalizing their own, and then a military, which seems poised on the brink of Armageddon. Will is confronting death, violence, and cruelty all in an instant of self-realization that seems likely to drive him to insanity. But this is when Susila asks him to open his eyes, and see her face. It is at this point that Will finally realizes, through the use of moksha, that whatever permutations on the state of man lie within his mind, the true definition of humanity can be found on the simple inspection of a human face. The visionary experience has brought Will out of hell, and into the reality of the moment, and the true knowledge of the divine ground.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Atwood & Vonnegut Examined
Margaret Atwood and Kurt Vonnegut Jr. are two names synonymous with contemporary fiction. Atwood was mentioned last year for a Nobel Prize, and Vonnegut is one of the most beloved and celebrated living American authors. Both of their works are taught in colleges and high schools, and their stories and prose are sure to be included in Western literature canon for years to come. This paper will examine the grammatical choices in the prose of these two accomplished writers.
Margaret Atwood is a novelist, activist, poet, educator, and humanitarian. She rejects any labels placed upon her and her work, and instead chooses to define herself through her work, not the examination of it. Her 2000 novel The Blind Assassin is as complex a book as Atwood is a person. This book defies categorization, one part period-piece, one part present-day narrative, and just a little bit of science fiction thrown in for good measure. The audience for this book would be those people looking for a challenging, yet endlessly fun read. The novel consists of four different story lines, spanning both time and the outer dimensions of the universe. This provides for endless possibilities when wanting to examine numerous grammatical structures. The other example of Atwood’s work that will be examined is an essay she wrote for the BBC radio network. The essay, titled “Orwell and Me” was meant to be read aloud. It’s intended audience would be anyone in range of the BBC signal.
Kurt Vonnegut’s 1997 novel Timequake is similar to Atwood’s novel as it takes the reader into different stories, different places in time, and even different planets. The book doesn’t follow a “conventional” novel structure, but it instead serves as a farewell to his readers. Timequake is Vonnegut’s last work of fiction, as he retired from the novel-writing business after its publication, an intention he makes quite clear in the novel’s story line. Vonnegut still writes non-fiction aritlces and essays for various publications, and this paper will examine one of those essays “Why They Read Hesse”, from his 1974 non-fiction collection Wampeters Foma & Granfalloons. This paper will examine five different grammatical concepts from each of these works, in the hopes of understanding what makes these writers enjoyable to read, and masters of their craft.
Coordinate Structure
While coordination within sentences may seem like a rudimentary skill, it is important to recognize the importance of coordinate structures and rhetorical effect. Through manipulation of these structures the writer can bring the writer into the world of the narrator, as demonstrated by Margaret Atwood with this paragraph from her novel The Blind Assassin.
Notice Atwood’s lack of conjunctions, be they coordinating or subordinating. All of her clause coordination is done with only the use of punctuation. There are obvious ways to use conjunctions throughout this selection, but insertion of these words would take away from the effect of this paragraph. The first sentence could very well have been written - “The summer heat has come down in earnest as it settles over the town like cream soup.” But by including a comma as her conjunctive agent, Atwood suggests a rhythm that will guide the reader through the rest of the paragraph. The comma in the first sentence is meant as a pause, not just a conjunctive agent. Also worth noting is Atwood’s use of the semi-colon in the second sentence. She uses this punctuation not in the traditional sense, a substition for a comma-plus-conjunction, but again to suggest a longer pause in the sentence. This sentence could be written – “It would have once been malaria and cholera weather.” But this would drastically alter the paragraph’s overall rhythm.
The narrator of this novel is an elderly woman in poor health, and the weather is just another source of discomfort. By leaving out conjunctions, and arranging the sentence structures in a specific way, Atwood focuses the reader’s attention on the oppressive heat. Maybe by including conjunctions the thoughts of the narrator would be emphasized, but that is not Atwood’s intent. What is important in this paragraph, the opening of an early chapter in the novel, is the heat. Another explanation for the lack of conjunctions may very well be the heat. The narrator is writing this novel in longhand cursive, as noted throughout the novel. Perhaps by leaving out the conjunctions Atwood shows a character who is too tired and too hot for the writing that would be required by the inclusion of extra words. Either explanation can be used to defend Atwood’s coordinate choices, as she introduces her readers to the world of the narrator.
While Atwood may use her phrase and sentence structure to evoke empathy from the reader, Kurt Vonnegut’s intent in the following paragraphs is without a doubt - humor. This sample is taken from Vonnegut’s 1997 novel Timequake.
Unlike Atwood, Vonnegut uses conjunctions, but still sparingly. His intent being humor, the rhythm is also important. Comedy is timing, and in these two short paragraphs Vonnegut manipulates the rhythmic flow through punctuation. The second sentence of the second paragraph is part of Vonnegut’s “punch-line” – “It was the guy from the gas company, who had come to read the meter.” By inserting the comma he is separating two thoughts with a deliberate pause. The comma is not grammatically necessary, but it is there to help emphasize the humor. You can almost imagine Vonnegut laughing during while telling this story, and that comma would be a breath between laughter and his attempt to speak while laughing.
Appositives
Appositive phrases are used to clarify a noun’s meaning within a sentence. Here are some sentences from Margaret Atwood’s essay for the British newspaper The Guardian titled “Orwell and Me.” The appositives have been identified with bold type.
These sentences were part of an essay that Atwood composed and read-aloud on BBC Radio, as part of their “Orwell Essays” series. If she were writing this essay for a book of essays on Orwell, she may not have included the appositives. Such a book is more than likely to be read by people already familiar with the novels of George Orwell. But the intent of the essay was to educate, as well as entertain. She includes these clarifying appositives for the benefit of those listening who may not be familiar with Orwell’s novels.
Like the Orwell essay, Kurt Vonnegut’s short piece on the German author Hermann Hesse, titled “Why They Read Hesse”, from his non-fiction book Wampeters Foma & Granfalloons, was intended for an audience that may not be familiar with the German novelist’s work. But Vonnegut’s audience may not be reading the essay to learn about Hermann Hesse. They may be reading it simply because Kurt Vonnegut wrote it, and they want to see what he has to say about a particular subject. Consider this when reading the following sentence.
Sentence Fragments
Every sentence must contain an independent clause. This is a widely accepted rule in written English, and a widely broken rule as well. When a professional writer uses deliberate fragments, it can be interesting to examine the purpose of such usage. Here is another passage from Atwood’s Blind Assassin. Once again, the fragment is highlighted by the use of bold type.
The fragment could have been written – “This is not the best area.” But for some reason Atwood chose the sentence fragment. The scene portrayed in this passage is a meeting between a man and a woman who are involved in an adulterous relationship. Perhaps Atwood means to emphasize the anxious and confused state of the characters by presenting their observations as broken, fragmented phrases. Since the narration in this part of the novel takes place in third person, the fragment could also be used to emphasize the tense environment of the characters, and the nervous energy of their forbidden relationship.
Vonnegut uses the deliberate fragment in a different way, but for similar purposes. Here are some more sentences from his essay on Hermann Hesse.
Marked vs. Unmarked
Another examination of the paragraph from Atwood’s The Blind Assassin will reveal her use of marked versus unmarked sentence structure.
The emphasized sentence could have been written – “I sprout a thin mustache of sweat from just climbing the stairs.” It’s important to examine the previous sentence when considering the use of this marked structure. The phrases read like a list, describing the effect of the heat on the narrator. Instead of continuing this rhythm with the next sentence, Atwood chooses the marked structure. This is the last sentence in the paragraph, and the author uses this marked structure to break up the rhythm she has created with the previous sentence. The commas in the previous sentence all create pauses – “The trees I walk beneath are wilting umbrellas, the paper is damp under my fingers, the words…” But when Atwood ends the paragraph she does so by ending this beat cause by the comma. If she had written the last sentence – “I sprout a thin mustache of sweat from just climbing the stairs.” – the reader will more than likely pause, ever so briefly, at the word “from.” But Atwood wants to stop the pauses from the previous sentence, so she chooses the marked structure.
The use of the marked structure can be found in another paragraph from the same book.
Pronouns
The prose of Kurt Vonnegut consists of a style purposely constructed for simplicity. This style is demonstrated in a passage from his essay “Why They Read Hesse.”
In the following paragraph from The Blind Assassin, Margaret Atwood uses pronouns to help create a scene of intimacy. This paragraph follows the paragraph previously discussed in this paper during the section on sentence fragments.
Margaret Atwood is a novelist, activist, poet, educator, and humanitarian. She rejects any labels placed upon her and her work, and instead chooses to define herself through her work, not the examination of it. Her 2000 novel The Blind Assassin is as complex a book as Atwood is a person. This book defies categorization, one part period-piece, one part present-day narrative, and just a little bit of science fiction thrown in for good measure. The audience for this book would be those people looking for a challenging, yet endlessly fun read. The novel consists of four different story lines, spanning both time and the outer dimensions of the universe. This provides for endless possibilities when wanting to examine numerous grammatical structures. The other example of Atwood’s work that will be examined is an essay she wrote for the BBC radio network. The essay, titled “Orwell and Me” was meant to be read aloud. It’s intended audience would be anyone in range of the BBC signal.
Kurt Vonnegut’s 1997 novel Timequake is similar to Atwood’s novel as it takes the reader into different stories, different places in time, and even different planets. The book doesn’t follow a “conventional” novel structure, but it instead serves as a farewell to his readers. Timequake is Vonnegut’s last work of fiction, as he retired from the novel-writing business after its publication, an intention he makes quite clear in the novel’s story line. Vonnegut still writes non-fiction aritlces and essays for various publications, and this paper will examine one of those essays “Why They Read Hesse”, from his 1974 non-fiction collection Wampeters Foma & Granfalloons. This paper will examine five different grammatical concepts from each of these works, in the hopes of understanding what makes these writers enjoyable to read, and masters of their craft.
Coordinate Structure
While coordination within sentences may seem like a rudimentary skill, it is important to recognize the importance of coordinate structures and rhetorical effect. Through manipulation of these structures the writer can bring the writer into the world of the narrator, as demonstrated by Margaret Atwood with this paragraph from her novel The Blind Assassin.
The summer heat has come in earnest, settling down
over the town like cream soup. Malarial weather, it
would have been once; cholera weather. The trees I
walk beneath are wilting umbrellas, the paper is damp
under my fingers, the words I write feather at the edges
like lipstick on an aging mouth. Just climbing the stairs
I sprout a thin moustache of sweat (48).
Notice Atwood’s lack of conjunctions, be they coordinating or subordinating. All of her clause coordination is done with only the use of punctuation. There are obvious ways to use conjunctions throughout this selection, but insertion of these words would take away from the effect of this paragraph. The first sentence could very well have been written - “The summer heat has come down in earnest as it settles over the town like cream soup.” But by including a comma as her conjunctive agent, Atwood suggests a rhythm that will guide the reader through the rest of the paragraph. The comma in the first sentence is meant as a pause, not just a conjunctive agent. Also worth noting is Atwood’s use of the semi-colon in the second sentence. She uses this punctuation not in the traditional sense, a substition for a comma-plus-conjunction, but again to suggest a longer pause in the sentence. This sentence could be written – “It would have once been malaria and cholera weather.” But this would drastically alter the paragraph’s overall rhythm.
The narrator of this novel is an elderly woman in poor health, and the weather is just another source of discomfort. By leaving out conjunctions, and arranging the sentence structures in a specific way, Atwood focuses the reader’s attention on the oppressive heat. Maybe by including conjunctions the thoughts of the narrator would be emphasized, but that is not Atwood’s intent. What is important in this paragraph, the opening of an early chapter in the novel, is the heat. Another explanation for the lack of conjunctions may very well be the heat. The narrator is writing this novel in longhand cursive, as noted throughout the novel. Perhaps by leaving out the conjunctions Atwood shows a character who is too tired and too hot for the writing that would be required by the inclusion of extra words. Either explanation can be used to defend Atwood’s coordinate choices, as she introduces her readers to the world of the narrator.
While Atwood may use her phrase and sentence structure to evoke empathy from the reader, Kurt Vonnegut’s intent in the following paragraphs is without a doubt - humor. This sample is taken from Vonnegut’s 1997 novel Timequake.
One time when Allie was maybe fifteen and I was ten,
she heard somebody fall down our basement stairs:
Bloompity, bloomp, bloomp. She thought it was I, so
she stood at the top of the stairs laughing her fool
head off. This would have been 1932, three years into
into the Great Depression.
But it wasn’t I. It was a guy from the gas
company, who had come to read the meter. He came
clumping out of the basement all bunged up, and
absolutely furious (101).
Unlike Atwood, Vonnegut uses conjunctions, but still sparingly. His intent being humor, the rhythm is also important. Comedy is timing, and in these two short paragraphs Vonnegut manipulates the rhythmic flow through punctuation. The second sentence of the second paragraph is part of Vonnegut’s “punch-line” – “It was the guy from the gas company, who had come to read the meter.” By inserting the comma he is separating two thoughts with a deliberate pause. The comma is not grammatically necessary, but it is there to help emphasize the humor. You can almost imagine Vonnegut laughing during while telling this story, and that comma would be a breath between laughter and his attempt to speak while laughing.
Appositives
Appositive phrases are used to clarify a noun’s meaning within a sentence. Here are some sentences from Margaret Atwood’s essay for the British newspaper The Guardian titled “Orwell and Me.” The appositives have been identified with bold type.
Animal Farm charts the progress of an idealistic movement
of liberation towards a totalitarian dictatorship headed by
a despotic tyrant; Nineteen Eighty-Four describes what it’s
like to live entirely within such a system. Its hero, Winston,
has only fragmentary memories of what life was like before
the present dreadful regime set in: he’s an orphan, a child
of the collectivity.
The government of Airstrip One, Winston’s ‘country’,
is brutal (2).
These sentences were part of an essay that Atwood composed and read-aloud on BBC Radio, as part of their “Orwell Essays” series. If she were writing this essay for a book of essays on Orwell, she may not have included the appositives. Such a book is more than likely to be read by people already familiar with the novels of George Orwell. But the intent of the essay was to educate, as well as entertain. She includes these clarifying appositives for the benefit of those listening who may not be familiar with Orwell’s novels.
Like the Orwell essay, Kurt Vonnegut’s short piece on the German author Hermann Hesse, titled “Why They Read Hesse”, from his non-fiction book Wampeters Foma & Granfalloons, was intended for an audience that may not be familiar with the German novelist’s work. But Vonnegut’s audience may not be reading the essay to learn about Hermann Hesse. They may be reading it simply because Kurt Vonnegut wrote it, and they want to see what he has to say about a particular subject. Consider this when reading the following sentence.
In Beneath the Wheel (1906), the only Hesse book I’ve readThe appositive here is technically used to give more information about a noun, but the phrase also gives the reader more information about Kurt Vonnegut. Vonnegut knows that his audience may very well be more interested in what he has to say about Hermann Hesse, rather than some facts about an early twentieth-century novel. This reader/writer relationship shows up frequently in his work, and is an important part of Vonnegut’s deliberate and crafted style.
that has a hopelessly unhappy ending, he shows himself as
an abused schoolboy who gets drunk and drowns (114).
Sentence Fragments
Every sentence must contain an independent clause. This is a widely accepted rule in written English, and a widely broken rule as well. When a professional writer uses deliberate fragments, it can be interesting to examine the purpose of such usage. Here is another passage from Atwood’s Blind Assassin. Once again, the fragment is highlighted by the use of bold type.
They’re sitting on a park bench, not too close together; a
maple tree with exhausted leaves above them, cracked
dirt under their feet, sere grass around. A bread crust
pecked by sparrows, crumpled papers. Not the best area.
A drinking fountain dribbling; three grubby children, a
a girl in a sunsuit and two boys in shorts, are conspiring
against it (17).
The fragment could have been written – “This is not the best area.” But for some reason Atwood chose the sentence fragment. The scene portrayed in this passage is a meeting between a man and a woman who are involved in an adulterous relationship. Perhaps Atwood means to emphasize the anxious and confused state of the characters by presenting their observations as broken, fragmented phrases. Since the narration in this part of the novel takes place in third person, the fragment could also be used to emphasize the tense environment of the characters, and the nervous energy of their forbidden relationship.
Vonnegut uses the deliberate fragment in a different way, but for similar purposes. Here are some more sentences from his essay on Hermann Hesse.
This is something a lot of young Americans are considering,In this paragraph Vonnegut is discussing something very serious, the end of the world. It doesn’t get much more serious than that. But instead of launching into a series of sentences that could be so serious, and even “preachy”, he tries to address his concerns with humor. If he had written the sentences this way – “The next holocaust will leave the planet uninhabitable, and the Moon, Venus, and Mars are no Switzerland.” – the humor is lost. His joke is literally a “cosmic” one. The Earth is the only planet with an atmosphere that supports life, that’s funny in a strange way, and he wants to communicate his amusement with this fact of life. By including Mars and Venus in separate but incomplete sentences he leads the reader to the outer reaches of the Solar System. And in effect he is saying - “Nope, no oxygen out here.”
too – clearing out before a holocaust begins. Much luck to them.
Their problem is this: The next holocaust will leave the planet
uninhabitable, and the Moon is no Switzerland. Neither is
Venus. Neither is Mars. In all the rest of the solar system,
there is nothing to breathe (115).
Marked vs. Unmarked
Another examination of the paragraph from Atwood’s The Blind Assassin will reveal her use of marked versus unmarked sentence structure.
The trees I walk beneath are wilting umbrellas, the paper
is damp under my fingers, the words I write feather at
the edges like lipstick on an aging mouth. Just climbing
the stairs I sprout a thin mustache of sweat (48).
The emphasized sentence could have been written – “I sprout a thin mustache of sweat from just climbing the stairs.” It’s important to examine the previous sentence when considering the use of this marked structure. The phrases read like a list, describing the effect of the heat on the narrator. Instead of continuing this rhythm with the next sentence, Atwood chooses the marked structure. This is the last sentence in the paragraph, and the author uses this marked structure to break up the rhythm she has created with the previous sentence. The commas in the previous sentence all create pauses – “The trees I walk beneath are wilting umbrellas, the paper is damp under my fingers, the words…” But when Atwood ends the paragraph she does so by ending this beat cause by the comma. If she had written the last sentence – “I sprout a thin mustache of sweat from just climbing the stairs.” – the reader will more than likely pause, ever so briefly, at the word “from.” But Atwood wants to stop the pauses from the previous sentence, so she chooses the marked structure.
The use of the marked structure can be found in another paragraph from the same book.
Erie Street was languid with tourists, middle-aged for theAs in the previous example, Atwood uses the marked structure to shift the rhythm of the paragraph. This shift sets up the joke about tourists made by the narrator. If the marked sentence were written as such – “Reenie would have called such items dust-catchers.” The joke may not have been as effective. By introducing the humorous phrase “dust-catchers” at the beginning of the sentence, rather than the end, Atwood already has the reader thinking about this joke, before focusing her humor on the satire of the tourists.
most part, poking their noses into the souvenir shops,
finicking around in the bookstore, at loose ends before
driving off after lunch to the nearby summer theatre
festival for a few relaxing hours of treachery, sadism,
adultery and murder. Some of them were heading in
the same direction I was – to The Button Factory, to see
what chintzy curios they might acquire in commemoration
of their overnight vacations from the twentieth-century.
Dust-catchers, Reenie would have called such items.
She would have applied the same term to the tourists
themselves (48-9).
Pronouns
The prose of Kurt Vonnegut consists of a style purposely constructed for simplicity. This style is demonstrated in a passage from his essay “Why They Read Hesse.”
“But the modern man who told it best was Hermann Hesse.This paragraph consists of five sentences, and four of these sentences begin with the pronoun “he.” The may be viewed as overly simplistic and repetitious to the casual observer, but for a writer like Vonnegut there is a purpose behind these choices. Vonnegut wants the reader to keep thinking about Hermann Hesse, and not get lost in complex sentence structures. By starting each sentence with “he”, Vonnegut effectively controls the pace of the paragraph, a paragraph meant to be read quickly.
He has been dead for eight years now. He was about my
father’s age. He was a German, and later a Swiss. He is
deeply loved by those among the American young who
are questing (108).
In the following paragraph from The Blind Assassin, Margaret Atwood uses pronouns to help create a scene of intimacy. This paragraph follows the paragraph previously discussed in this paper during the section on sentence fragments.
Her dress is primrose yellow; her arms bare below theThe names of the two lovers are never given in the book. Their identity is only revealed later by piecing together the story of the narrator. By using the pronouns here, Atwood is serving two purposes. She introduces the reader to one of the novel’s many mysteries, and she brings the reader into the intimate world of these two people. Their names do not matter in this context. All that matters is “he” and “she”, and by using these pronouns Atwood takes the reader into their secret.
elbow, fine pale hairs on them. She’s taken off her
cotton gloves, wadded them into a ball, her hands
nervous. He doesn’t mind her nervousness: he likes
to think he’s already costing her something. She’s
wearing a straw hat, round like a schoolgirl’s; her
hair pinned back; a damp strand escaping (17).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)