Monday, December 15, 2008
Brad - Response
Since the day we talked about our re-reading of "Artificial Nigger," I've been paying attention to your paper topic in the other stories. I like how you've incorporated the question of O'Connor's opinions of her portrayal of country vs. city in her works. You've made a great connection between O'Connor's thoughts on the "ever-diminishing South" and her depiction of the "city" representing change. I know that there is a clear difference in the settings of O'Connor's city, and O'Connor's country, but I was wondering if you've thought about looking at the weather and the lighting within those settings? "Artificial Nigger" paints a vivid picture through the sun and the moon, and the contrasts between light and dark. They are completely different in the city than they are in the country, and I noticed that it definitely reflects the characters' moods. I know it's late in the game, but I thought this might help you explain the characters' attitudes towards the "big city." Good luck with the rest of your paper!!!
Response - Bethany
Bethany! I loved your presentation! It is clear that you know exactly what you want to talk about in your paper, and the printout of your outline was extremely helpful. Your approach regarding Porter's autobiographical voice through Miranda's character is really interesting, especially since the question has been raised regarding O'Connor's embodiment of her characters/narrators. What you have so far sounds great, and it's very different from the rest of the class. Good luck with completing your paper!!!
Saturday, December 13, 2008
A final post on O'Connnor's letters
In rereading allot of O'Connor's letters I have discovered that what seemed at first glance to be a woman who wrote out of a passion for writing it seems that her writing was a very clear outlet in defense of her theology, both as a southern writer and as a Catholic. It is amazing the number of times she argues either with the person she is addressing, or with someone she has recently encountered. This just gives me a better picture of her as a person you could interact with and someone who is easier to relate to. Although she is very eloquent in many ways, often she is at such odds with the world, that I can see how she had such a strong literary life, both in her correspondence (in that I think she was more comfortable with expressing herself in letters) and in her stories.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Response to Jennifer
You've got a very compelling topic. Porter portrayed herself a feminist, but does her work reflect that? As you point out, her female characters are typically permissive or promiscuous.
"Theft" in particular, as you say, is great example.
I like your taking on of the internalization of the male gaze, a more insidious and quite common form of sexism. I'm curious how that looked at the time of Porter's writing, when sexism was more overt than it is today.
Not sure how much you're going to look at this, but I wonder how much Porter was attempting to work out these issues for herself in her writing? As a female writer who seemed to have at times been a victim of the subordination of women, and at other times to have been a strong, powerful force, how much was she working through her own issues in stories like "Theft" and "Magic"?
Great topic, and I love the sociological bent you're taking. I think it's very interesting.
"Theft" in particular, as you say, is great example.
I like your taking on of the internalization of the male gaze, a more insidious and quite common form of sexism. I'm curious how that looked at the time of Porter's writing, when sexism was more overt than it is today.
Not sure how much you're going to look at this, but I wonder how much Porter was attempting to work out these issues for herself in her writing? As a female writer who seemed to have at times been a victim of the subordination of women, and at other times to have been a strong, powerful force, how much was she working through her own issues in stories like "Theft" and "Magic"?
Great topic, and I love the sociological bent you're taking. I think it's very interesting.
Response to Bethany
Nice work, Bethany. You've obviously done a lot of research on this, and you've taken a very original approach for your topic.
What stood out for me was your look at Porter's boldness, although she seemed to hold back in her stories despite her belief in freedom of expression. That brings up a lot of interesting questions. Does the counter-culture artist do more good by tempering her voice, but maintaining the ability to continue speaking and reaching a wide audience? Or is the greater good for her to speak freely, even if, in the case of Porter, this could have landed her in jail?
Anyway, I find your topic very interesting, especially the view of "Pale Horse, Pale Rider" through revolutionary terms. It's caused me to rethink that story.
Good luck with your paper.
What stood out for me was your look at Porter's boldness, although she seemed to hold back in her stories despite her belief in freedom of expression. That brings up a lot of interesting questions. Does the counter-culture artist do more good by tempering her voice, but maintaining the ability to continue speaking and reaching a wide audience? Or is the greater good for her to speak freely, even if, in the case of Porter, this could have landed her in jail?
Anyway, I find your topic very interesting, especially the view of "Pale Horse, Pale Rider" through revolutionary terms. It's caused me to rethink that story.
Good luck with your paper.
Responce to Jenifer
Feminism as contradiction is a very cool theme. Narration is always a clear way of seeing the author in her works, I would defiantly look at how the narrator feels about the men, and the language the men use.
Are you going to mention details of her divorces? And are you going to focus more on her critics or her stories?
But otherwise your presentation was clear, and your paper sounds well rounded.
Are you going to mention details of her divorces? And are you going to focus more on her critics or her stories?
But otherwise your presentation was clear, and your paper sounds well rounded.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Response to Meagan
It was really interesting the way that you considered Laura's position as a familiar outsider in "Flowering Judas." I thought that it was interesting to consider Laura's reltaionship to Mexico as similar to Porter's own relationship with Mexico.
However, I think that you need to spend a lot of time considering the way that the narrative form of "Maria Concepcion" makes the story appear to have been written by an insider. Obviously we have spent a lot of time in class discussing the the way that she appears to identify Mexico as 'hers' but I would be interested to what the body of literary critics has to say about her Mexico stories. I also think that you should try to incorperate some of the letters that she wrote during and about her time in Mexico to see how she felt about her time there.
In all likelihood you have considered the way that "Maria Concepcion" demonstrates Katherine Anne Porter's strong sense of familiarity with Mexico. I'd consider putting some special emphasis on this story and how it is different from "Flowering Judas" because there is clearly a huge difference in style that I think would be interesting to consider.
However, I think that you need to spend a lot of time considering the way that the narrative form of "Maria Concepcion" makes the story appear to have been written by an insider. Obviously we have spent a lot of time in class discussing the the way that she appears to identify Mexico as 'hers' but I would be interested to what the body of literary critics has to say about her Mexico stories. I also think that you should try to incorperate some of the letters that she wrote during and about her time in Mexico to see how she felt about her time there.
In all likelihood you have considered the way that "Maria Concepcion" demonstrates Katherine Anne Porter's strong sense of familiarity with Mexico. I'd consider putting some special emphasis on this story and how it is different from "Flowering Judas" because there is clearly a huge difference in style that I think would be interesting to consider.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Response to Meagan
I think this is a very interesting topic. The concept of cultural appropriation is very complex, be it between cultures or, in this case, countries. As you pointed out, Porter's intent was not malicious, but that doesn't change the fact that it does, as you say, exoticize the culture.
You've got lots of possibilities for this paper, and I think it will be very interesting. Here are some questions that came to mind. If these are off topic, disregard, but these are some thoughts that I had:
What are the consequences of Katherine Anne Porter's exoticizing of Mexico? Looking at it historically, was there any resentment or criticism of it in her time? What are the far-reaching consequences? For example, did it contribute to our current view of the Mexican revolution?
What are the modern equivalents? White college kids wearing Che Guevara shirts? American tourism in Latin American countries that are impoverished outside of tourist towns? Ex pats in Nicaragua who are mostly there for the surfing?
(For that matter, is it only exoticizing when it's a dominant culture absorbing the dialect and/or customs of another culture, such as white suburbanites adopting hip-hop lingo or American-run restaurants offering foreign cuisines? But that's another paper altogether.)
Do you feel that Porter truly felt as though Mexico was hers, or do you feel she had some doubt about her place within the culture and tried to work through that doubt in her stories?
You've got lots of possibilities for this paper, and I think it will be very interesting. Here are some questions that came to mind. If these are off topic, disregard, but these are some thoughts that I had:
What are the consequences of Katherine Anne Porter's exoticizing of Mexico? Looking at it historically, was there any resentment or criticism of it in her time? What are the far-reaching consequences? For example, did it contribute to our current view of the Mexican revolution?
What are the modern equivalents? White college kids wearing Che Guevara shirts? American tourism in Latin American countries that are impoverished outside of tourist towns? Ex pats in Nicaragua who are mostly there for the surfing?
(For that matter, is it only exoticizing when it's a dominant culture absorbing the dialect and/or customs of another culture, such as white suburbanites adopting hip-hop lingo or American-run restaurants offering foreign cuisines? But that's another paper altogether.)
Do you feel that Porter truly felt as though Mexico was hers, or do you feel she had some doubt about her place within the culture and tried to work through that doubt in her stories?
Ashley Response: Jennifer, Bethany, Brad. Heather
Author: Please post any questions you want to ask. respondents: please provide constructive feedback for the presentation.
Ashlee betrayal reaction
I like your use of the idea of bate, almost like the serpent and the apple in the garden. The duality of betrayal and faith.
Intellectual- Pride and intellect is for sure apparent and the duality of control and salvation is very evocative, you should defiantly expand on that.
secular grotesque- denial of pain, or is it the denial of responsibility.
Expand on the idea of enlightenment and what leads the characters into the moment of enlightenment or what keeps them from it.
In O'Connor's essay on Mary Ann she explores this idea of the child innocence, and why she chooses to write about the troubled child, or tormented soul rather than encouraging stories on those who accept grace.
Intellectual- Pride and intellect is for sure apparent and the duality of control and salvation is very evocative, you should defiantly expand on that.
secular grotesque- denial of pain, or is it the denial of responsibility.
Expand on the idea of enlightenment and what leads the characters into the moment of enlightenment or what keeps them from it.
In O'Connor's essay on Mary Ann she explores this idea of the child innocence, and why she chooses to write about the troubled child, or tormented soul rather than encouraging stories on those who accept grace.
Response to Dana
Thesis: There is a lack of feminist ideals within the stories of Katherine Anne Porter and Flannery O'Connor
Women are outside of the control of patriarchy. This proposition is demonstrated through the weakness of the male characters.
How does the portrayal of women as being weak verify your thesis? Or maybe I just got the thesis wrong lol. It's hard to get notes down so quickly.
Besides the tying in of feminism to weakness of male characters I really enjoyed your presentation and think your paper is very interesting.
Women are outside of the control of patriarchy. This proposition is demonstrated through the weakness of the male characters.
How does the portrayal of women as being weak verify your thesis? Or maybe I just got the thesis wrong lol. It's hard to get notes down so quickly.
Besides the tying in of feminism to weakness of male characters I really enjoyed your presentation and think your paper is very interesting.
responce to feminism paper
I really liked that you are covering Porter and O'Connor. There is a quote that I think would be useful for you from O'Connor's essay on being a Catholic writer, paraphrased it is something like ' It is a writers duty to be true to reality and not change a character to fit some unrealistic plot' I think this would help as far as trying to explain why O'Connor does not have a "feminist" character. I think it is true that both authors write from their experience and surroundings weather that be from being Southern, Catholic, or women. They are both true to their soundings and it allows their works to occupy the space close to Historical fiction, that is if any of the characters were well known or famous.
The exact quote from page 808 The Church and the Fiction Writer
"What the fiction writer will discover, if he discovers anything at all, is that he himself cannot move or mold reality in the interests of abstract truth."
The exact quote from page 808 The Church and the Fiction Writer
"What the fiction writer will discover, if he discovers anything at all, is that he himself cannot move or mold reality in the interests of abstract truth."
Response to Meagan
You may want to note that the character of Laura was actually modeled after one of Porter's close friends, Mary Doherty. (Though I do agree with you that most of Laura's interactions are autobiographical)
Response to Daniel: Jessica, Caroline, Ashley, Michelle
Author: Please post any questions you want to ask. respondents: please provide constructive feedback for the presentation.
Response to Dana: Heather, Daniel, Sarah, Bethany
Author: Please post any questions you want to ask. respondents: please provide constructive feedback for the presentation.
Response to Meagan: Vince, Brad, David, Austin
Author: Please post any questions you want to ask. respondents: please provide constructive feedback for the presentation.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Response to Sarah
Excellent job, Sarah. You've got an original and creative thesis. And you're right, silence is considered a disempowering thing in our culture, even though most communication is nonverbal.
Some questions:
Just as viewing Porter's work through a postmodern lens 50 years later can be distorting, so too can viewing her work through an eastern lens. And that's totally fine. But are you also meeting the story on its own terms, in other words, taking into account the social mores of the time that it was written? Not sure exactly how you'd do that, but perhaps you could look to see if Porter was influenced by eastern philosophy in any way, perhaps in her letters.
Not sure if this plays into your thesis, but along those lines, Porter spent some time in Mexico and in Europe. Did silence have a different meaning in those cultures? And did that influence her in these stories?
Do you think that Porter's experience with an abusive husband--at a time when women didn't have much agency in that regard--influence her usage of silence as a powerful device in her stories?
What would Porter's characters have to gain by sublimating their egos? How does this provide agency in "Holiday"?
Hope those questions help and aren't too far afield from your thesis. Great topic. I think it will be a very interesting paper.
Some questions:
Just as viewing Porter's work through a postmodern lens 50 years later can be distorting, so too can viewing her work through an eastern lens. And that's totally fine. But are you also meeting the story on its own terms, in other words, taking into account the social mores of the time that it was written? Not sure exactly how you'd do that, but perhaps you could look to see if Porter was influenced by eastern philosophy in any way, perhaps in her letters.
Not sure if this plays into your thesis, but along those lines, Porter spent some time in Mexico and in Europe. Did silence have a different meaning in those cultures? And did that influence her in these stories?
Do you think that Porter's experience with an abusive husband--at a time when women didn't have much agency in that regard--influence her usage of silence as a powerful device in her stories?
What would Porter's characters have to gain by sublimating their egos? How does this provide agency in "Holiday"?
Hope those questions help and aren't too far afield from your thesis. Great topic. I think it will be a very interesting paper.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Response to Sarah's Presentation
Thesis Paraphrased: Silent narrator's and character's like Ottilie are a mechanism through which the paradoxes of silence are revealed? i.e. silence pulls the narrator and characters apart.
I really enjoyed your incorporation of postmodernity as it pertains to silence. The ways in which you incorporated Western and Eastern views as they pertain to silence were very interesting. The fact that Western ideology is very uncomfortable with the ways in which Eastern views perceive silence as a void is very interesting and very pertinent to postmodernity.
Holiday: Isolation- the ways in which you separated the various degrees of isolation was brilliant. Thinking about Ottilie as a subject was very keen and insightful. I like the ways in which you imply that Ottilie fills that void, that bridge between Eastern and Western views in that, due to childhood disease, Ottilie, within a house of isolation, is defined as the only individual precisely because she has come to embrace her isolation.
*The ultimate goal of communication is to realize the subjectivity of the individual whom you are discussing with.* This point is wonderful. I liked the ways in which you used Eastern philosophy to address this point. I think on a daily basis this is something that we, as individuals experience, yet do not realize. As a culture that values progress, we are quick to search for the value in things, the value of speech, the value of conversation. However, that is not the point that KAP makes in Holiday. Subjectivity is everything.
I really enjoyed your incorporation of postmodernity as it pertains to silence. The ways in which you incorporated Western and Eastern views as they pertain to silence were very interesting. The fact that Western ideology is very uncomfortable with the ways in which Eastern views perceive silence as a void is very interesting and very pertinent to postmodernity.
Holiday: Isolation- the ways in which you separated the various degrees of isolation was brilliant. Thinking about Ottilie as a subject was very keen and insightful. I like the ways in which you imply that Ottilie fills that void, that bridge between Eastern and Western views in that, due to childhood disease, Ottilie, within a house of isolation, is defined as the only individual precisely because she has come to embrace her isolation.
*The ultimate goal of communication is to realize the subjectivity of the individual whom you are discussing with.* This point is wonderful. I liked the ways in which you used Eastern philosophy to address this point. I think on a daily basis this is something that we, as individuals experience, yet do not realize. As a culture that values progress, we are quick to search for the value in things, the value of speech, the value of conversation. However, that is not the point that KAP makes in Holiday. Subjectivity is everything.
Sarah: Silence...: Bethany, Austin, Caroline, Vince
Author: Please post any questions you want to ask. respondents: please provide constructive feedback for the presentation.
Jessica, Humanity...Silence: Brad, Heather, Jennifer, Austin
Author: Please post any questions you want to ask. respondents: please provide constructive feedback for the presentation.
Caroline: The Surreal: Ashley, Michelle, David, Sarah
Author: Please post any questions you want to ask. respondents: please provide constructive feedback for the presentation.
Austin: Perfect Strangers: Meagan, Dana, Daniel, Jessica
Author: Please post any questions you want to ask. respondents: please provide constructive feedback for the presentation.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Ottilie vs. He
At first, I considered Ottilie and He to be in the same category as silent, disabled characters who still demonstrated consciousness and competence. Yet in one significant respect, they are different: He’s mother speaks of him constantly, whereas Ottilie’s family remains, uh…silent about her disabilities and deformities. The absence left by He’s inability to speak is constantly filled by Mrs. Whipple’s garrulous insistences that he is normal in his way. On the other hand, Hatsy pragmatically tries to dissuade the narrator of Holiday from any hope of successful human communication with Ottilie. While Mrs. Whipple’s insistence that her son is normal seems full of good intentions, it hides a more active negligence than the negligence of the Mueller family who passively fail to acknowledge Ottilie but allow her to maintain her use-value niche in their household. Holiday’s narrator notes that “their silence about her was, I realized, exactly that—Simple forgetfulness. She moved about them as invisible to their imaginations as a ghost. Ottilie their sister was something painful that had happened long ago and now was past and done for; they could not live with that memory or its visible reminder—they forgot her in pure self-defense.” I wonder whether Mrs. Whipple’s sense of self-preservation will ultimately require a similar forgetful silence from her once He has been removed from their home.
Silence in Flowering Judas
I know I seem stuck on this silence thing, sorry guys! I was thinking about the use of silence in Flowering Judas, and the similarities between Flowering Judas and the Holiday. Obviously, the crucial difference is that the Holiday has a first person narrator, whereas Flowering Judas uses omniscient third-person. However, silence is used as both stylistic technique and plot device in both pieces. First of all, the backgrounds of both characters are kept quiet. The back story of the Holiday narrator is obscure, but Laura’s is even more so. From Laura, we only know that “learned to ride in Arizona.” That’s it. Zippo. What is she doing in Mexico? No one knows, not even, apparently, many of her fellow revolutionaries. Secondly, these characters have hardly any quoted speech in either of their stories. Laura speaks briefly to Braggioni, and a couple of lines to herself. Finally, since I’ve been examining silence as a function of individual and communal identities, I thought it was interesting that Laura is a silent, seemingly isolated individual in a foreign community. She is even physically isolated: Porter writes, “Nobody touches her.” She speaks the language, but the botched, nearly meaningless English of her students emphasizes an ongoing alienation. Is she, like the Holiday narrator, enjoying “the freedom to fold up in quiet and go back to [her] own center”? The obvious difference here is that Laura—despite her isolated, alienated position—clearly has a crucial role in her revolutionary community. She has immediate, physical use-value, for both the prisoners and Braggioni. The silent Laura is forced to absorb the parade of noise from the mouthy, whiny, musical Braggioni. Literally, in the last line of the story, Laura is woken by the sound of her own voice, which is not quoted and which has been so conspicuously absent from her story.
Friday, December 5, 2008
In Response to Dana, Mother Troubles and Father Figures
Interesting connection there--your post got me thinking about the ways that absence of a father figure is used in both stories. I don't know how it was for everyone else, but when I was a kid, my dad was always the scary disciplinarian and my mom was the one we all went (haha...go) to for intervention. I can't speak from experience, but I would speculate that, after the death of one parent, the remaining parent struggles to take on the full burden of the resentment that inevitably comes out of disciplinary actions. Interestingly, these two characters, Hulga and Asbury, have fraught relationships with two very indulgent remaining parents--incidentally, two indulgent mothers. Mrs. Hopewell and Asbury's mother both make cheery attempts to ignore and smooth over the abrasive behaviour of their children--the difference, in my mind, is that Asbury's mother makes an innocent effort to encourage her son's artistic pursuits, whereas Mrs. Hopewell knows (and desires to know) nothing about Hulga the Philosopher. Asbury's mother hopelessly suggests that he should add the Civil War to his unwritten novel because it "always makes a long book,"but at least she let him go try his luck in the dairy with her workers, and at least she came to visit him in the city. Asbury's mother accepts the fact that she does not understand her son--her's is a position of (many too indulgent) humility. She at least attempts to respect Asbury, even in his self-absorption. Mrs. Hopewell, on the other hand, is completely alienated from her daughter, and "[thinks] of her still as a child because it tore her heart to think instead of the poor stout girl in her thirties." For Mrs. Hopewell, Hulga's life work is so foreign that reading a passage of Heidigger is akin to "an evil incantation."
Which brings me back to missing fathers: Hulga lost her leg in a hunting accident, during which "the leg had been literally blasted off." Now, call me crazy, but I can't see Mrs. Hopewell out on a hunting expedition with her 10 year old daughter. She just doesn't seem like the type. This is probably an incredible stretch, but I'm going to conjecture that Hulga's absent and totally unmentioned father actually shot her leg off. Now there is some Freud for you. Castration, mutilation, Oedipus complexes run amok. I'm going to support my guess by the careful position in which O'Connor has placed these details in the paragraph: the leg itself is an artificial secret--a "hidden deformity" which fascinates Mrs. Freeman. O'Connor emphasizes her delight in the secret, the insidious. (And I think my favorite O'Connor line of all time: "Of diseases, she preferred the lingering or incurable.") Yet, there is something in the actual narrative of the event that fascinates Mrs. Freeman--it is not simply that she enjoys staring at Hulga in person: rather, O'Connor writes that she "could listen to [the story] any time as if it had happened an hour ago." But, to me, a sudden, violent shot-gun wound doesn't seem to me to be as secret, mysterious or insidious as the usual subjects of Mrs. Freeman's fancy. Tragic, disturbing, morbid, yes. But also loud, obvious, sudden, public. There has to be some especially gruesome detail--some creepy little secret--that keeps her coming back for more: and I suspect the secret is that Hulga's father was involved.
In terms of gender and use-value, Hulga's use-value is as negligible as Asbury's: in a farming community, she sits around all day reading by herself, and doesn't seem to contribute much. However, unlike Asbury, she doesn't seem to be disappointing any expectations as far as her use-value is concerned: if anything, her mother seems to think her phD makes her sexually ambigious/ neutral if not masculine. Her emphasis is on the fact that she can't tell anyone that her "daughter is a philosopher," and on the fact that Hulga is not interested in nice young men.
Asbury, on the other hand, faces a very different set of circumstances: he is a son missing a father, and a father with a high use-value at that. Asbury's mother seems to be under the impression that education has feminized her son, making him less competent, less sensible and more susceptible to the influence of his emotions. She wants him to "do real work, not writing." And here we have Asbury calling in a Catholic Father, to help him enact the drama of his dying god setpiece, only to meet with authoritarian doctrines that leave him frustrated. Really, the conversation with the priest made me think of the classic, kick-in-the-pants father trying to knock a bit of arrogance and self-indulgence out of their kid--I'm not entirely unsympathetic and it might be safe to guess that acerbic, Catholic O'Connor wasn't either.
Which brings me back to missing fathers: Hulga lost her leg in a hunting accident, during which "the leg had been literally blasted off." Now, call me crazy, but I can't see Mrs. Hopewell out on a hunting expedition with her 10 year old daughter. She just doesn't seem like the type. This is probably an incredible stretch, but I'm going to conjecture that Hulga's absent and totally unmentioned father actually shot her leg off. Now there is some Freud for you. Castration, mutilation, Oedipus complexes run amok. I'm going to support my guess by the careful position in which O'Connor has placed these details in the paragraph: the leg itself is an artificial secret--a "hidden deformity" which fascinates Mrs. Freeman. O'Connor emphasizes her delight in the secret, the insidious. (And I think my favorite O'Connor line of all time: "Of diseases, she preferred the lingering or incurable.") Yet, there is something in the actual narrative of the event that fascinates Mrs. Freeman--it is not simply that she enjoys staring at Hulga in person: rather, O'Connor writes that she "could listen to [the story] any time as if it had happened an hour ago." But, to me, a sudden, violent shot-gun wound doesn't seem to me to be as secret, mysterious or insidious as the usual subjects of Mrs. Freeman's fancy. Tragic, disturbing, morbid, yes. But also loud, obvious, sudden, public. There has to be some especially gruesome detail--some creepy little secret--that keeps her coming back for more: and I suspect the secret is that Hulga's father was involved.
In terms of gender and use-value, Hulga's use-value is as negligible as Asbury's: in a farming community, she sits around all day reading by herself, and doesn't seem to contribute much. However, unlike Asbury, she doesn't seem to be disappointing any expectations as far as her use-value is concerned: if anything, her mother seems to think her phD makes her sexually ambigious/ neutral if not masculine. Her emphasis is on the fact that she can't tell anyone that her "daughter is a philosopher," and on the fact that Hulga is not interested in nice young men.
Asbury, on the other hand, faces a very different set of circumstances: he is a son missing a father, and a father with a high use-value at that. Asbury's mother seems to be under the impression that education has feminized her son, making him less competent, less sensible and more susceptible to the influence of his emotions. She wants him to "do real work, not writing." And here we have Asbury calling in a Catholic Father, to help him enact the drama of his dying god setpiece, only to meet with authoritarian doctrines that leave him frustrated. Really, the conversation with the priest made me think of the classic, kick-in-the-pants father trying to knock a bit of arrogance and self-indulgence out of their kid--I'm not entirely unsympathetic and it might be safe to guess that acerbic, Catholic O'Connor wasn't either.
Second Glance at The Enduring Chill
What I found interesting the second time through was the dialogue between Asbury and the priest. From before in that story, Asbury reveals he “has failed his god, Art, but he had been a faithful servant and Art was sending him Death” (564). What seems so ironic to me is that Christians believe Satan, through revealing to humans their sinful nature and innate evil, lead them to be punished through death. For Asbury, however, his GOD bears him the GIFT of death. Existential? We live only to die? What kind of claims could KAP be making? Art is the god of death? Death is actually the ultimate victory of art? Art is merely an attempt to express something in connection with death (an argument I have heard in one of my philosophy classes)? I decided to replace the word “God” from the demands of the priest and Asbury’s responses, with the word Art, Asbury’s God.
-Art made you. Who is Art?
-Art is an idea created by man.
-Art is a spirit infinitely perfect. Why did Art make you?
-Art didn’t…
-Art made you to know Him, to love Him, to serve Him, in this world and to be happy with Him in the next.
From all of this I get the conflated idea of God and Art and Evil. I really wish I could clarify all of this more, but for right now, I just thought it was an interesting observation…
-Art made you. Who is Art?
-Art is an idea created by man.
-Art is a spirit infinitely perfect. Why did Art make you?
-Art didn’t…
-Art made you to know Him, to love Him, to serve Him, in this world and to be happy with Him in the next.
From all of this I get the conflated idea of God and Art and Evil. I really wish I could clarify all of this more, but for right now, I just thought it was an interesting observation…
Second Glance at Holiday
The first time I read Holiday, I must admit, I was one of the people who thought it was extremely boring. I was waiting for the plot to turn, for violence to appear, for gender roles to be challenged…anything. And really, I felt like I walked away with nothing. I had nothing to say, an Ottilie, perhaps. It seems ironic to think back that “nothingness”— as well as her silence as an aspect of nothingness—is an important theme within this short story. Ottilie, for example, exhibits the kind of deformity that, especially in our culture, trains us to ignore. We are supposed to pretend her differences, in a sense are nothing. Nothing separates person like Ottilie from any other person; but nothing, in the noun form, is exactly what separates her. Her body is nothing. It’s irregularities, her family dismisses as less than adequate to humanness. She is, therefore, subhuman, and her body is a “nothing.” Her speech, again, in its absence truly does hinder her from existing as a member of the family despite her obvious servitude. Only when she is understood in communication, does she physically and emotionally exist as a human being.
The made me ponder the role of surrealism. Perhaps, surrealism can be represented through her silence. She exists below the surface—as does the unconscious—but her silent identity is her true identity. When you think inside your head, pray internally, or hum along mentally to music, those thoughts are still a means of communication, even if only with the self. Those thoughts, furthermore, because they are only internal understood by you, become even more important as your own perception of your own identity. What is said aloud is merely the societal craft of the internal thought. When Ottilie is understood in the “real realm” she is still not really understood… only she will ever know who she really is. But how, then, is Ottilie any different from us. Others’ perceptions of our identities are created from social stigmas, funny jokes we made in class, eloquent/nervous speech behaviors—like Ottilie, people will never know who we really are, because our real identities are found in the surrealist silence of our unconscious thoughts.
The made me ponder the role of surrealism. Perhaps, surrealism can be represented through her silence. She exists below the surface—as does the unconscious—but her silent identity is her true identity. When you think inside your head, pray internally, or hum along mentally to music, those thoughts are still a means of communication, even if only with the self. Those thoughts, furthermore, because they are only internal understood by you, become even more important as your own perception of your own identity. What is said aloud is merely the societal craft of the internal thought. When Ottilie is understood in the “real realm” she is still not really understood… only she will ever know who she really is. But how, then, is Ottilie any different from us. Others’ perceptions of our identities are created from social stigmas, funny jokes we made in class, eloquent/nervous speech behaviors—like Ottilie, people will never know who we really are, because our real identities are found in the surrealist silence of our unconscious thoughts.
Enduring Chill: Continuation of the Blame your Mother Conversation
I think we might have discussed this a little the first time that we discussed "Enduring Chill" but I have noticed a connection between Asbury and Hulga. Both individuals enjoy creating tension between themselves and their mothers. Asbury and Hulga annoy their parents through their actions and their speech, which seem to be solely executed for this purpose. This connection really sticks out to me because both children are lacking a father figure. I am not quite sure what is being done here, but I cannot recall any other children who are as focused on blaming their mother and lacking a father figure.
A Nattering Nabob of Negativity
Rereading "The Enduring Chill," I found myself interested in Asbury's intense death-wish. It seems that he absolutely wants to die, but not because of any profound sadness, grief, or pain. Sarah's previous post touched on this, saying that what Asbury wants is a "grand narrative," which, since he has done nothing grand in life, must be acted out through death. I think this is true, but might go a little further. The operative word here is 'grand'; something grand is vibrant and unavoidable, it must be payed attention to and taken seriously. I think this is Asbury's motive. He wants desperately to be taken seriously: he will not accept Dr. Block's attentions because the man is a fool, he cannot accept his friend Goetz' assertion that pain is an illusion (because then his pain is meaningless), and he cannot win the friendship of his mother's workers. Basically, no one takes Asbury seriously besides his own mother, who is heaped with scorn in return. So, Asbury convinces himself and everyone else he can that he is doomed, and begins to make rounds with people he wishes to impress, which of course leads to the central ironies of the story.
On his "death bed," Asbury calls first for what he thinks will be an intellectual equal, the Jesuit Father Finn. Their encounter makes it clear that Asbury has no serious interest in religion or even religious thought, he just wanted someone he could display his intelligence to, and becomes incensed when he realizes the priest has no interest in flattering him. Next, Asbury has his mother's workers come to visit him, evidently under the impression that they share some meaningful connection and will be able to appreciate the seriousness of his death. Instead, Randall and Morgan seem embarrassed and eager to leave the situation. They even refuse to acknowledge his decrepit state, the ultimate insult to a grand narrative of death.
Having been unable to find anyone impressed merely by disease and approaching death, Asbury resolves to die. "I'm going to die," Asbury repeats incessantly, almost like a mantra, willing itself into reality. But his self-aggrandizing suicidal tendency will not be accommodated; the same doctor he derides as a fool discovers the cause of Asbury's illness, and it's not so bad. In fact, it was caused by his drinking unpasteurized milk from his mother's cows, an act which he was quite proud of himself for committing at the time. This dramatic irony is worse for Asbury than death. Dying is important. Dying is something. But as it turns out, all he gets is a cosmic pie in the face from his creator (o'connor), like a mother scolding a lazy child.
On his "death bed," Asbury calls first for what he thinks will be an intellectual equal, the Jesuit Father Finn. Their encounter makes it clear that Asbury has no serious interest in religion or even religious thought, he just wanted someone he could display his intelligence to, and becomes incensed when he realizes the priest has no interest in flattering him. Next, Asbury has his mother's workers come to visit him, evidently under the impression that they share some meaningful connection and will be able to appreciate the seriousness of his death. Instead, Randall and Morgan seem embarrassed and eager to leave the situation. They even refuse to acknowledge his decrepit state, the ultimate insult to a grand narrative of death.
Having been unable to find anyone impressed merely by disease and approaching death, Asbury resolves to die. "I'm going to die," Asbury repeats incessantly, almost like a mantra, willing itself into reality. But his self-aggrandizing suicidal tendency will not be accommodated; the same doctor he derides as a fool discovers the cause of Asbury's illness, and it's not so bad. In fact, it was caused by his drinking unpasteurized milk from his mother's cows, an act which he was quite proud of himself for committing at the time. This dramatic irony is worse for Asbury than death. Dying is important. Dying is something. But as it turns out, all he gets is a cosmic pie in the face from his creator (o'connor), like a mother scolding a lazy child.
Nothing in the Enduring Chill
We've been talking about Nothing in class the past few days, and Nothing appears again as an interesting theme in The Enduring Chill. Asbury is after Something, in a big way. He's after drama, heroism, and Truth--and he's always disappointed. Asbury is looking for grand inspiration and spirit in all the wrong places. He goes to New York, and runs out of money: "Now there was nothing" (548). He is an artist who has published Nothing. The obvious nihilism of his friends in college disgusts him because he wants to create and live out a grand narrative. He is not interested in the emptiness of a doctrine in which "there are neither any Bodhisattvas to do the leading nor any creatures to be led." On the contrary, Asbury believes so firmly in his own ego and the existence of the self defined by that ego, that he goes as far as calling his personal narrative "his tragedy," and hopes his mother will someday see "her part in it". Poor Asbury, who doesn't even get the satisfaction of a dramatic, fatal disease.
Asbury wants to play the role of the "dying god," but a page later tells the priest that "God is an idea created by man." Asbury refuses to submit his ego to either the anonymity of nihilism or the anonymity required by obedience to a God. It is not a question of whether or not there is a story and a storyteller-- for Asbury, the question is what role he plays in the story. His crisis of faith is not a conflict between belief and nihilism, but rather a struggle with the disappointment of discovering that even within a religious narrative framework, his ego will remain unsatisfied and diminished.
Asbury wants to play the role of the "dying god," but a page later tells the priest that "God is an idea created by man." Asbury refuses to submit his ego to either the anonymity of nihilism or the anonymity required by obedience to a God. It is not a question of whether or not there is a story and a storyteller-- for Asbury, the question is what role he plays in the story. His crisis of faith is not a conflict between belief and nihilism, but rather a struggle with the disappointment of discovering that even within a religious narrative framework, his ego will remain unsatisfied and diminished.
The Life You Save
The automobile is closely associated with both Death, and the Spirit in this story, and I wanted to go back to some loose threads that were bothering me during class.
The car is associated with Death in two instances: First, the old woman says he'll have to sleep in the car and he replies, "the monks of old slept in their coffins" (which they did, in order to remind them constantly of their mortality, and the importance of continuing obedience to God.) Secondly, when Shiftlet fixes the car--bringing together missing parts to make the car whole--he has "an expression of serious modesty on his face as if he had just raised the dead. The car needed new parts, so Shiftlet gathered them together to make his repairs--unfortunately, he can't get a replacement part for his arm. This notion of a car made up of parts comes up again when Shiftlet delivers a little Marxist speech about making a car as a whole, with a personal investment by the labourer, rather than a car made of alienated parts by infinite numbers of alienated labourers. The notion of missing and separate parts connects Shiftlet's body with the car itself. However, Shiftlet complicates that connection when he insists that "the spirit...is like a automobile, always on the move" (if, that is, it has the right parts). From this can we consider the possibility that Shiftlet's spirit, like his body, is not fully functional because it has been truncated in some way? It would /could be a perfectly good spirit (carrying out good intentions, etc.), if only in could overcome the diaspora of certain alienated spiritual elements--the gaps between Shiftlet's intentions and his actions could be closed with a tune-up if someone would take the trouble to gather the parts.
The car is associated with Death in two instances: First, the old woman says he'll have to sleep in the car and he replies, "the monks of old slept in their coffins" (which they did, in order to remind them constantly of their mortality, and the importance of continuing obedience to God.) Secondly, when Shiftlet fixes the car--bringing together missing parts to make the car whole--he has "an expression of serious modesty on his face as if he had just raised the dead. The car needed new parts, so Shiftlet gathered them together to make his repairs--unfortunately, he can't get a replacement part for his arm. This notion of a car made up of parts comes up again when Shiftlet delivers a little Marxist speech about making a car as a whole, with a personal investment by the labourer, rather than a car made of alienated parts by infinite numbers of alienated labourers. The notion of missing and separate parts connects Shiftlet's body with the car itself. However, Shiftlet complicates that connection when he insists that "the spirit...is like a automobile, always on the move" (if, that is, it has the right parts). From this can we consider the possibility that Shiftlet's spirit, like his body, is not fully functional because it has been truncated in some way? It would /could be a perfectly good spirit (carrying out good intentions, etc.), if only in could overcome the diaspora of certain alienated spiritual elements--the gaps between Shiftlet's intentions and his actions could be closed with a tune-up if someone would take the trouble to gather the parts.
Holiday
For now, this post will be short and sweet. I want to look into gender issues in Holiday and how they pertain, yet again, to their social constructions. Here we have Ottilie, a character who undoubtedly calls into question traditional gender boundaries, especially in appearance. Appearance wise, Ottilie is essentially genderless. How does this genderless-ness fit into the ways in which the Muller family treats her? I see the Muller family as a metaphor for society, which in essence, they are (I mean, there are a lot of them...) How do social constructs appear in Holiday, and more importantly how do they defined characters, especially in relation to gender?
The River
Biblical Symbolism: Rivers:
Rivers, and especially the River Jordan, figure prominently in the stories of the Bible, where they often represent deliverance and salvation, freedom, or cleansing. Jacob crossed the Jordan to meet his brother Esau after many years of exile. The Israelites crossed the Jordan to enter into their Promised Land. John the Baptist baptized the repentant in the Jordan.
The phrase "crossing the Jordan" is often used euphemistically of death. However, in the Bible, the typology of crossing a river (or passing through water) almost always means a transition from death to life, from slavery to freedom, or from sin to righteousness.
While this symbolism is fine and nice, I'd like to take an unfounded and opposing stance and go ahead and say that this is NOT what Bevel's river symbolizes. I mean, in some respects, the river does symbolize this, but I think it's because of the religious stigmatization placed upon the river within the novel. Again, referring to Butler, I think that the river, much like the mind, if established through cultural inscription. Although we perceive that our minds are something separate, something that cannot be inscribed upon by culture, quite the reverse is true. As our body is inscribed upon by cultural laws etc, it shapes and defines our soul. Good News: if we recognize that our minds are just as much inscribed upon as our bodies, we can change out outlook. Unfortunately, it becomes too late for Bevel...or does it?
Rivers, and especially the River Jordan, figure prominently in the stories of the Bible, where they often represent deliverance and salvation, freedom, or cleansing. Jacob crossed the Jordan to meet his brother Esau after many years of exile. The Israelites crossed the Jordan to enter into their Promised Land. John the Baptist baptized the repentant in the Jordan.
The phrase "crossing the Jordan" is often used euphemistically of death. However, in the Bible, the typology of crossing a river (or passing through water) almost always means a transition from death to life, from slavery to freedom, or from sin to righteousness.
While this symbolism is fine and nice, I'd like to take an unfounded and opposing stance and go ahead and say that this is NOT what Bevel's river symbolizes. I mean, in some respects, the river does symbolize this, but I think it's because of the religious stigmatization placed upon the river within the novel. Again, referring to Butler, I think that the river, much like the mind, if established through cultural inscription. Although we perceive that our minds are something separate, something that cannot be inscribed upon by culture, quite the reverse is true. As our body is inscribed upon by cultural laws etc, it shapes and defines our soul. Good News: if we recognize that our minds are just as much inscribed upon as our bodies, we can change out outlook. Unfortunately, it becomes too late for Bevel...or does it?
Thursday, December 4, 2008
The Life You Save May Be Your Own
Sun imagery is prevalent in many of Flannery O'Connor's works. Though subdued, the sun plays a somewhat important role in the Life You Save. The first appearance of sun imagery in the Life You Save occurs in reference to Mr. Shiflet. When Mr. Shiflet turns to face the sunset his face forms the shadow of a "crooked cross."
I know someone in the class is particularly interested in investing Mr. Shiflet's satisfaction, or lack thereof, in this story and this article I found on sun imagery may be pertinent to your paper. It's called, "Torn by the Lord's Eye": Flannery O'Connor's use of Sun Imagery...Anyhow, I found a particular aspect of this article relevant to the discussion we had earlier this week regarding the Life You Save, it reads as follows, "Like Christ, he is not satisfied by a mere ritual experience of the law." This statement was interesting to me because more than anything, including the theme of violence in the works of O'Connor, I see a recurring theme of that is similar to the "salt of the earth" qualm. This theme is that of O'Connor's desire to probe at her readers, to ask them "what do you believe, but more importantly, WHY do you believe it?" As a whole, O'Connor makes a point to avoid didacticism in her writing, but rather attempts to create an experience in which her characters EXPERIENCE situations in which they are forced to question their beliefs.
Works Cited
Stuart L. Burns
Twentieth Century Literature, Vol. 13, No. 3 (Oct., 1967), pp. 154-166
Published by: Hofstra University
I know someone in the class is particularly interested in investing Mr. Shiflet's satisfaction, or lack thereof, in this story and this article I found on sun imagery may be pertinent to your paper. It's called, "Torn by the Lord's Eye": Flannery O'Connor's use of Sun Imagery...Anyhow, I found a particular aspect of this article relevant to the discussion we had earlier this week regarding the Life You Save, it reads as follows, "Like Christ, he is not satisfied by a mere ritual experience of the law." This statement was interesting to me because more than anything, including the theme of violence in the works of O'Connor, I see a recurring theme of that is similar to the "salt of the earth" qualm. This theme is that of O'Connor's desire to probe at her readers, to ask them "what do you believe, but more importantly, WHY do you believe it?" As a whole, O'Connor makes a point to avoid didacticism in her writing, but rather attempts to create an experience in which her characters EXPERIENCE situations in which they are forced to question their beliefs.
Works Cited
Stuart L. Burns
Twentieth Century Literature, Vol. 13, No. 3 (Oct., 1967), pp. 154-166
Published by: Hofstra University
The Artificial Nigger
W.F. Monroe, in the article "Flannery O'Connor's Sacrament Icon: The Artificial Nigger," argues that the intentional, and emotionally charged use of the term "nigger," "may be read as linking, in the character of Mr. Head, two seemingly disparate attitudes, two philosophies of life which are surprisingly similar in their mutual dependence on propositional truth." In effect, Monroe argues that this story "critiques the propositional and abstract propensities of both secular rationalism and iconoclastic Christian Fundamentalism." As O'Connor is rarely didactic in her writing, rather, she wishes her readers to experience something, the subject of her writing, in order to learn, she veers away from placing any rhetorical restrictions on the term "nigger." As such, the narrator of this story avoids the use of the term "nigger," although the two Heads use this word very frequently.
Another interesting point Monroe makes is as follows: Mr Head. states to his grandson, "The day is going to come...when you'll find you ain't as smart as you think you are." Monroe, in response to this statement says, "From our superior vantage point, that day should also come for Mr. Head, a day when his reasonableness will be recognized for what it is, pernicious racism..." In effect, Monroe argues that this day comes when Mr. Head stares in awe of the statue of the African-American boy. Monroe states, "As a means of revelation, the artificial Negro is both precise and appropriate. The two Heads...have been contending throughout the story, jockeying for position, attempting to attain a clear superiority, one over the other. Mr. Head has demonstrated his superior knowledge and scored his most telling points by stigmatizing blacks...To see himself as what he would call a "nigger," then, is a most dramatically effective way for O'Connor to demonstrate Mr. Head's beneficial humiliation, his recognition of his own radical insufficiency." (Monroe 70).
Works Cited
Flannery O'Connor's Sacramental Icon: "The Artificial Nigger"
W. F. Monroe
South Central Review, Vol. 1, No. 4 (Winter, 1984), pp. 64-81
Published by: The Johns Hopkins University Press on behalf of The South Central Modern Language Association
Another interesting point Monroe makes is as follows: Mr Head. states to his grandson, "The day is going to come...when you'll find you ain't as smart as you think you are." Monroe, in response to this statement says, "From our superior vantage point, that day should also come for Mr. Head, a day when his reasonableness will be recognized for what it is, pernicious racism..." In effect, Monroe argues that this day comes when Mr. Head stares in awe of the statue of the African-American boy. Monroe states, "As a means of revelation, the artificial Negro is both precise and appropriate. The two Heads...have been contending throughout the story, jockeying for position, attempting to attain a clear superiority, one over the other. Mr. Head has demonstrated his superior knowledge and scored his most telling points by stigmatizing blacks...To see himself as what he would call a "nigger," then, is a most dramatically effective way for O'Connor to demonstrate Mr. Head's beneficial humiliation, his recognition of his own radical insufficiency." (Monroe 70).
Works Cited
Flannery O'Connor's Sacramental Icon: "The Artificial Nigger"
W. F. Monroe
South Central Review, Vol. 1, No. 4 (Winter, 1984), pp. 64-81
Published by: The Johns Hopkins University Press on behalf of The South Central Modern Language Association
The Enduring Chill: Perceptions of Time as They Relate to Religious Beliefs
Background:
In his essay, “Forms of Time and Chronotope in the Novel,” Mikhail Bakhtin posits the idea that literature, like real historical time, creates both temporal and spatial relationships. This idea is referred to by the name chronotope, which translates literally as “time space.” Bakhtin asserts that perceptions of time-space depend upon the current, ruling literary and ideological assumptions. In the European ideology of Christianity, time is perceived as linear. ). In contrast to cyclical time, which views
nature as a temporal circle and death as an escape from time into a timeless eternity, linear time places emphasis on selfhood and personalized (rather than philosophical) conceptions of good and evil. The ability to perceive good and evil, as it pertains to the individual, allowed for the effects of moral choices to be seen as forces in linear time.
In response to Brad's post, I'm not sure whether or not Flannery O'Connor is relating Buddhism to the foreignness of the city, but it is very possible. I think that topic could be interesting to look at in relation to Said's essay "Orientalism." In this essay the occult and Oriental are contrasted. Essentially, Said argues that Orientalism occurs through repetitions of indirect experiences with the East. This theme, that of indirectness, is somewhat pertinent to the character of Asbury. Asbury seems to experience life indirectly, in that, his perceptions seem distorted from that which is occurs in reality. One example of this is Asbury's blame of his mother. In reality, his mother has done nothing to deserve Asbury's anger. Ultimately, Asbury's assumptions, rather than total submersion in the experience of reality causes his permanent illness.
In his essay, “Forms of Time and Chronotope in the Novel,” Mikhail Bakhtin posits the idea that literature, like real historical time, creates both temporal and spatial relationships. This idea is referred to by the name chronotope, which translates literally as “time space.” Bakhtin asserts that perceptions of time-space depend upon the current, ruling literary and ideological assumptions. In the European ideology of Christianity, time is perceived as linear. ). In contrast to cyclical time, which views
nature as a temporal circle and death as an escape from time into a timeless eternity, linear time places emphasis on selfhood and personalized (rather than philosophical) conceptions of good and evil. The ability to perceive good and evil, as it pertains to the individual, allowed for the effects of moral choices to be seen as forces in linear time.
In response to Brad's post, I'm not sure whether or not Flannery O'Connor is relating Buddhism to the foreignness of the city, but it is very possible. I think that topic could be interesting to look at in relation to Said's essay "Orientalism." In this essay the occult and Oriental are contrasted. Essentially, Said argues that Orientalism occurs through repetitions of indirect experiences with the East. This theme, that of indirectness, is somewhat pertinent to the character of Asbury. Asbury seems to experience life indirectly, in that, his perceptions seem distorted from that which is occurs in reality. One example of this is Asbury's blame of his mother. In reality, his mother has done nothing to deserve Asbury's anger. Ultimately, Asbury's assumptions, rather than total submersion in the experience of reality causes his permanent illness.
Magic: Judith Butler and Gender Trouble
Background:
Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble approaches gender from a postmodern perspective. Using bricolage, Butler dissects Freudian theory to assert that gender is more than just a social construct rather, gender is a performance. Likening the theory of gender performance to drag, Butler states that gender is instituted through a stylized repetition of acts. As such, gender, is a double inversion that reifies the illusion of appearance (Butler 2497). In turn, Butler’s theory lends itself to the exploration of the transient nature of gender identification and the consideration of the role of drag as it relates to the production of representations of both masculinity and femininity (Shail 1).
Butler argues that our perception of our interiority, of our soul, is not trapped within the boundaries of the body, rather, interiority is constructed by and through cultural inscriptions upon the corporeal body. In regards to the limitations of the corporeal body, Butler states, “the very contours of ‘the body’ are established through markings that seek to establish specific codes of cultural coherence” (2492). As “the body” is an outward entity, observable by society, it is subject to cultural inscription.
In turn, Porter's Magic can be viewed as a metaphor for gender confines. Metaphorically speaking, the "Fancy House" comes to represent the confines of patriarchy. Within these confines women serve the highly feminized position of subordination through sex. Moreover, when Nicolette runs away (an act of independence as well as one that directly rebels against patriarchy) she is forced to return by supernatural means (which can come to represent social constructs).
Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble approaches gender from a postmodern perspective. Using bricolage, Butler dissects Freudian theory to assert that gender is more than just a social construct rather, gender is a performance. Likening the theory of gender performance to drag, Butler states that gender is instituted through a stylized repetition of acts. As such, gender, is a double inversion that reifies the illusion of appearance (Butler 2497). In turn, Butler’s theory lends itself to the exploration of the transient nature of gender identification and the consideration of the role of drag as it relates to the production of representations of both masculinity and femininity (Shail 1).
Butler argues that our perception of our interiority, of our soul, is not trapped within the boundaries of the body, rather, interiority is constructed by and through cultural inscriptions upon the corporeal body. In regards to the limitations of the corporeal body, Butler states, “the very contours of ‘the body’ are established through markings that seek to establish specific codes of cultural coherence” (2492). As “the body” is an outward entity, observable by society, it is subject to cultural inscription.
In turn, Porter's Magic can be viewed as a metaphor for gender confines. Metaphorically speaking, the "Fancy House" comes to represent the confines of patriarchy. Within these confines women serve the highly feminized position of subordination through sex. Moreover, when Nicolette runs away (an act of independence as well as one that directly rebels against patriarchy) she is forced to return by supernatural means (which can come to represent social constructs).
The Enduring Chill - Take Two
Wow, what an appropriate day to be reading something called "The Enduring Chill" !
I am curious about the whole notion of Buddhism in this story. (I don't think we were able to talk about this the first go around, and I apologize if we did)
This is the first instance I can remember of O'Connor talking about a religion other than Christianity. Sure, she was Catholic, and we know she had a lot to say about Christian religions other than Catholicism, but what about religions other than Christianity? Can we tell anything about O'Connor's views through the words of her characters and her narrative voice, and is it wrong to even try?
Also, how does this Asian religion tie in to the big city? Is O'Connor making a statement on just how foreign and alienating the big city is by its incorporation of foreign Eastern religions?
Theft: Signifiers and Signified
Background on Saussure:
Signifier
The signifier is the pointing finger, the word, the sound-image.
A word is simply a jumble of letters. The pointing finger is not the star. It is in the interpretation of the signifier that meaning is created.
Signified
The signified is the concept, the meaning, the thing indicated by the signifier. It need not be a 'real object' but is some referent to which the signifier refers.
The thing signified is created in the perceiver and is internal to them. Whilst we share concepts, we do so via signifiers.
Whilst the signifier is more stable, the signified varies between people and contexts.
The signified does stabilize with habit, as the signifier cues thoughts and images.
The signifier in Theft is the purse. What it signifies is emptiness, age, and capitalism. In the final scene of Theft we see the main female fighting for ownership of the purse with the cleaning woman. In this scene, the cleaning woman realizes that the purse contains nothing--it has no intrinsic value. In turn, she tells the protagonist that the niece whom she was stealing the purse doesn't need it--she's beautiful and has her whole life ahead of her. After this scene, the protagonist also no longer wants the purse and sees the meaninglessness of the purse.
Signifier
The signifier is the pointing finger, the word, the sound-image.
A word is simply a jumble of letters. The pointing finger is not the star. It is in the interpretation of the signifier that meaning is created.
Signified
The signified is the concept, the meaning, the thing indicated by the signifier. It need not be a 'real object' but is some referent to which the signifier refers.
The thing signified is created in the perceiver and is internal to them. Whilst we share concepts, we do so via signifiers.
Whilst the signifier is more stable, the signified varies between people and contexts.
The signified does stabilize with habit, as the signifier cues thoughts and images.
The signifier in Theft is the purse. What it signifies is emptiness, age, and capitalism. In the final scene of Theft we see the main female fighting for ownership of the purse with the cleaning woman. In this scene, the cleaning woman realizes that the purse contains nothing--it has no intrinsic value. In turn, she tells the protagonist that the niece whom she was stealing the purse doesn't need it--she's beautiful and has her whole life ahead of her. After this scene, the protagonist also no longer wants the purse and sees the meaninglessness of the purse.
Asbury's Condescending Attitudes
I'm writing my paper on the way that O'Connor's characters view race relations. It is obvious that Asbury believes his intellect to be superior to everyone he knows. He insults the intelligence of his mother, his sister, and his late father's and he does'nt even seem to have any respect for Goetz or his other intellectual friends from New York. His project to "work in the dairy with [black people] and find out what their interests were" (551) to write a play about them was clearly an attempt to prove to the whole world that he was more accepting of other cultures than his mother. He is clearly too self-absorbed to realize that he is manipulating Randall and Morgan in order to appear that he has a familiar relationship with black people. Later, when Asbury thinks that he is on his death bed he invites them both to smoke cigarettes and it becomes apparent that he has made hardly any effort at all to understand them or know them. He attributes some sort of value to the act of relating to them, but I think that his feelings of superiority keep him from becoming close to anyone. Asbury's failure to befriend Randall and Morgan shows that his condescending attitude makes him the biggest fool of the story. The fact that he believes himself to be superior to everyone makes him unable to appreciate his mother, his sister, his father, or anybody else that he knows.
Revelations in Flowering Judas
I am interested in looking at religion and revelation in Flowering Judas. In this story, Laura, an American (who can be viewed in conjunction with the Miranda stories) teaches English to children, while running errands for leading members of the revolution. In a way, Laura is portrayed as being very nun-like. She is a lapsed Catholic and virgin, who conceals her large breasts beneath layers of confining fabrics. While Laura resists seductions from member leaders, she builds a relationship with a certain prisoner Eugenio. In the end, we discover that Eugenio kills himself with sleeping pills that Laura has provided.
In a dream that incorporates biblical references to the betrayal of Judas and works by T.S. Eliot and Dante, Laura's dream comes to signify her position as a betrayer. Not only is she betraying her country in several ways, but she is also betraying her friends. This revelation cause all her previous acts, which were perceived as benevolent and selfless, to be redefined as malicious, and self-centered. In a way, this revelation is reminiscent of the epiphany that occurs in O'Connor's revelation.
In a dream that incorporates biblical references to the betrayal of Judas and works by T.S. Eliot and Dante, Laura's dream comes to signify her position as a betrayer. Not only is she betraying her country in several ways, but she is also betraying her friends. This revelation cause all her previous acts, which were perceived as benevolent and selfless, to be redefined as malicious, and self-centered. In a way, this revelation is reminiscent of the epiphany that occurs in O'Connor's revelation.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
The life you save
The idea of grace is a theme we see often in O'Connor's works, and yet in this peace it is more subtle in that our character is rejecting grace, and yet we also empathize with his decisions. Like many of her protagonists Mr. Shiftlet is confronted with his sin, and this moment provides out climax. In the case of "The Lame Shall Enter First" we have our climax about a page from the end, as to provide a proper resolution, same with "The River" But here in "T.L.Y.S.M.B.Y.O." the climax is at the very end, much like "The Artificial Nigger" and leaves the main character with a choice to change and accept grace or to choose their life of pride.
I have noticed that although each of O'Connor's pieces are very different and her characters are diverse, that her themes seem to almost run together, and are very Catholic-centric. Especially because her setting is extremely protestant in culture, I wonder if she is trying to convey that her "truth" prevails, and that God will speak to anyone in any situation?
I have noticed that although each of O'Connor's pieces are very different and her characters are diverse, that her themes seem to almost run together, and are very Catholic-centric. Especially because her setting is extremely protestant in culture, I wonder if she is trying to convey that her "truth" prevails, and that God will speak to anyone in any situation?
Holiday: where are you escaping to?
The idea of going on holiday is one to escape or take a break from unpleasantness and work, therefore I think it is interesting that in "Holiday" the families house is a sort of escape from reality in the desired vacation context: different language, hyper-feminine women, a plethora of food. However reality is put on hold in an almost grotesque manner with the enslavement, and sacrifice of the eldest Helga. It seems she needs to suffer and take on the burdens for the family to live happily, and one could draw the conclusion that she is a Christ like figure.
It is interesting that the narrative voice through this is not stronger, and does not seem to be particularly negative or positive, and there for the reader is placed more directly in the scenes and as we read we can experience the silences, and roaring dinners. The scenes therefor become more vivid and can't help but feel uncomfortable with the enslavement of Helga.
It is interesting that the narrative voice through this is not stronger, and does not seem to be particularly negative or positive, and there for the reader is placed more directly in the scenes and as we read we can experience the silences, and roaring dinners. The scenes therefor become more vivid and can't help but feel uncomfortable with the enslavement of Helga.
Ironic humor in The Life You Save...
In class, we discussed self-interest in "The Life You Save May Be Your Own" and the ironic humor of the sign bearing that message.
It is O'Connor's attempt at humor, I think, and also a view of human nature and motivation. If human nature was to be courteous and altruistic, then the sign would have said: "Slow Down: You Might Harm Other People." But that doesn't work. For the sake of this story at least, human nature is to act in your own self-interest.
So it is with every character in "The Life You Save..." Shiftlet is not in search of a wife. He's in search of a place to stay, a car and money. He takes a wife as a means to get those things. The senior Lucynell is not looking out for her daughter's best interests. She wants her daughter gone, and she pays off Shiftlet to take her away.
In the final two pages, I seriously doubt that Shiftlet pulls over to pick up a potential hitch-hiker with altruistic intentions. We never get that far, but I suspect it's yet another graft. Only the boy sees through this, tells Shiftlet off and gets out of the car. When Shiftlet bemoans the "slime," I wonder if he's simply referring to the people who aren't willing to play this game of give-and-take manipulation.
It is O'Connor's attempt at humor, I think, and also a view of human nature and motivation. If human nature was to be courteous and altruistic, then the sign would have said: "Slow Down: You Might Harm Other People." But that doesn't work. For the sake of this story at least, human nature is to act in your own self-interest.
So it is with every character in "The Life You Save..." Shiftlet is not in search of a wife. He's in search of a place to stay, a car and money. He takes a wife as a means to get those things. The senior Lucynell is not looking out for her daughter's best interests. She wants her daughter gone, and she pays off Shiftlet to take her away.
In the final two pages, I seriously doubt that Shiftlet pulls over to pick up a potential hitch-hiker with altruistic intentions. We never get that far, but I suspect it's yet another graft. Only the boy sees through this, tells Shiftlet off and gets out of the car. When Shiftlet bemoans the "slime," I wonder if he's simply referring to the people who aren't willing to play this game of give-and-take manipulation.
Life You Save
When re-reading this story, I was more concerned with the relationship between Lucynell and her mother. I thought that the fact that her mother was so determined to keep her daughter to herself, but she treats her daughter as an item that she can sell and bargain with. She eventually markets her daughter for a car and gives Shiftlet some more money for a "honeymoon". I just found it odd that she states how her daughter is such a good woman and she needs her but then she gives up all these beliefs and is offended when Shiftlet does not buy into her original offer. I find the whole trading her daughter off offensive, rather than allowing Lucynell to figure out her own situation she feel as if it is her motherly duty to find her someone to take care of her and give her the sense of a husband.
I also found the betrayl by the end of the story odd Shiftlet just ups and leaves her in the diner after she is described as being angelic by the buss boy. He also leaves her while she is sleeping which I find condemns him more he does not give her the chance to realize what he is doing before he vanishes. I just find the character of Shiftlet very shady and obuses the trust of the two women within this story. I think that may be a topic that O'Conner is portraying the fact of trusting someone and them betraying you and whether or not to trust them and who you can trust.
Which leds into what may be the purpose of Shiftlet and the hitchhiker and their conversation about mothers. Shiftlet first words to the boy are about his mother and how great she is but I find that really odd at first I was under the impression that he was talking about mothers because the boy is young and I thought that it was a way for Shiftlet to preach to the boy about being a hitchhiker. However, after reading it again I think that Shiftlet feels guilty about his betrayl of Lucynell not for her sake but for her mother's sake. Her mother had intursted him with her daughter and he discarded her like trash in the diner. I think that his remorse comes from something that occured between him and his mother and I think that is also the reason he agreed to take Lucynell in the first place.
I also found the betrayl by the end of the story odd Shiftlet just ups and leaves her in the diner after she is described as being angelic by the buss boy. He also leaves her while she is sleeping which I find condemns him more he does not give her the chance to realize what he is doing before he vanishes. I just find the character of Shiftlet very shady and obuses the trust of the two women within this story. I think that may be a topic that O'Conner is portraying the fact of trusting someone and them betraying you and whether or not to trust them and who you can trust.
Which leds into what may be the purpose of Shiftlet and the hitchhiker and their conversation about mothers. Shiftlet first words to the boy are about his mother and how great she is but I find that really odd at first I was under the impression that he was talking about mothers because the boy is young and I thought that it was a way for Shiftlet to preach to the boy about being a hitchhiker. However, after reading it again I think that Shiftlet feels guilty about his betrayl of Lucynell not for her sake but for her mother's sake. Her mother had intursted him with her daughter and he discarded her like trash in the diner. I think that his remorse comes from something that occured between him and his mother and I think that is also the reason he agreed to take Lucynell in the first place.
Second Glance at The Life You Save
I would argue the theme of this story is Mr. Shiftlet's desire to regain his masculinity. The first physical description we receive concerning Shiftlet comes directly after the old woman, Lucynell Sr., labels him a tramp. The first attribute she notices is his "left coat sleeve was folded up to show there as only half an arm in it" (172). The arm is a symbol of masculinity dating back to the time of Shakespeare, and for a man to lose his arm would be alluding to the loss of his manhood. He cannot protect; he cannot work well; he is a piece of a man. Mr. Shiftlett also has no money--men are supposed to be the providers--and no home. He speaks as though his heart, his spirituality and caring nature, is detached from him and incomprehensible, an entity that even doctors "don't know more about it than you or me" (174). Mr. Shiftlet believes he is "a man, even if he aint a whole one" because he has "moral intelligence" (176). Moral integrity and the spirit of a man, he believes embody the ideal man, not his anatomical traits. Really, I agree which such a definition. Physicality should not define character. However, it seems clear by the end of the story that Mr. Shiftlet cannot atone himself in either the moral and spirited version of masculinity or the physical. He lies, he abandons, he lives selfishly. He feels like he can still hold claim to his manhood because he feels connected--on a Freudian level--to his mother, but the hitchhiker quickly dispelled his lies. The car he fixes, the massive machinery so connected to masculinity, cannot recover the his lack of manhood. He leaves his wife, the symbol of completion in a man...Eve was created to complement Adam etc...He rejects the emotionless "heart" as an object never to be understood. He relies an his wildness because a "man's spirit means more to him than anything else" but he confused spirit with abandonment, with recklessness, with selfishness. Are we really surprised when the last description of Mr. Shiftlet is him him "very quickly stepping on the gas and with his stump sticking out the window" he runs away from commitment and from those who need him? Are we surprised he still is less than a man?
I also want to comment on the pun of his name, Mr. Shiftlet. If you reverse the order of the words, it reads: Mr. Let Shift. Shifting--as in shifting eyes, shifting circumstances--connotates the unstable, the undependable. Those attributes contrast the ideal man who is the head of the family and can be depended upon to care and feed his family.
I also want to comment on the pun of his name, Mr. Shiftlet. If you reverse the order of the words, it reads: Mr. Let Shift. Shifting--as in shifting eyes, shifting circumstances--connotates the unstable, the undependable. Those attributes contrast the ideal man who is the head of the family and can be depended upon to care and feed his family.
Humanity In "Holiday"
Just like in “He”, I am trying to find evidence of Ottilie’s humanness in “Holiday”. She is introduced in the story simply as “a crippled and badly deformed servant girl” (Porter 415). It is not until we are almost ¾ of the way through the short story that we learn she is in fact one of the Muller daughters.
The Mullers live on a farm in Texas, so their lives revolve around animals. Just like the Whipple family in “He”, the Mullers rely on their animals. Their way of life is provided for them by animals; their existence depends on their animals’ production. At the end of the short story, during mother Muller’s funeral, Ottilie is described as howling like a dog. She cannot express her true feelings and therefore she makes animal noises; this is all she knows how to do. Perhaps being around so many animals on the farm and these being the only creatures that show her compassion, these animals are what she relates to. And therefore she learns this howling from the dogs that surround her. Even though Ottilie howls she is still human. Upon showing the photo of herself as a child to the narrator, the narrator realizes that “she knew well that she had been Ottilie, with those steady legs and watching eyes, and she was Ottilie still within herself” (Porter 426). Ottilie is fully aware of what happened to her and her current circumstances in life. She is not stupid. She knows who she is and where she came from. Therefore, her daily chore of cooking for and serving a family who has disowned her must make her so much more miserable.
Her own family does not show her any form of recognition or gratitude for her contribution to the family. They treat her as they would a stranger off the street. To them she is the servant girl and nothing else. It must have been hard enough for Ottilie to go through whatever childhood accident she went through, but on top of that she now has to live day to day with a family that no longer appreciated her.
The Mullers live on a farm in Texas, so their lives revolve around animals. Just like the Whipple family in “He”, the Mullers rely on their animals. Their way of life is provided for them by animals; their existence depends on their animals’ production. At the end of the short story, during mother Muller’s funeral, Ottilie is described as howling like a dog. She cannot express her true feelings and therefore she makes animal noises; this is all she knows how to do. Perhaps being around so many animals on the farm and these being the only creatures that show her compassion, these animals are what she relates to. And therefore she learns this howling from the dogs that surround her. Even though Ottilie howls she is still human. Upon showing the photo of herself as a child to the narrator, the narrator realizes that “she knew well that she had been Ottilie, with those steady legs and watching eyes, and she was Ottilie still within herself” (Porter 426). Ottilie is fully aware of what happened to her and her current circumstances in life. She is not stupid. She knows who she is and where she came from. Therefore, her daily chore of cooking for and serving a family who has disowned her must make her so much more miserable.
Her own family does not show her any form of recognition or gratitude for her contribution to the family. They treat her as they would a stranger off the street. To them she is the servant girl and nothing else. It must have been hard enough for Ottilie to go through whatever childhood accident she went through, but on top of that she now has to live day to day with a family that no longer appreciated her.
Shiftlet Saves Everyone's Lives
First I'd like to say that I think Shiftlet's betrayel of Lucynell in the Life You Save Could Be Your Own was deplorable. However, I think that one way of reading this story is that he saved their family from its own tragic stasis. When I re-read this story what I noticed much was that their house and their family seemed to be stuck in time. The ages of Lucynell and the old woman are not given, and it seems as though their existence could not be properly measured in years because they have been stuck in one place for an indefinite amount of time. When Shiftlet shows up he builds and creates in a place that is barren and ruinous. By improving their living conditions he saves them from themselves. Whether or not things go smoothly for Lucynell after he leaves her in the diner is up for interpretation, but personally I think she's better off out in the wide world than wasting her life in the middle of the woods. The old woman certainly must be satisfied with the assurance that Lucynell finally went off on her own. And Shiftlet obviously has the freedom he wanted all along. All in all I think everyone was better off after Shiftlet's intervened to help them out.
The Live You Save...Discussion
So for today's discussion I'd like to touch upon the ideas that Brad and Austin both posted on...
Like Brad, during the first read I focused on Shiftlet's betrayal of Lucynell...and this time around the waiter really creeped me out. However...he spoke the truth when he described her as "an angel of gawd." She was wearing a white dress, and if you picture her laying there with her eyes closed...and, for me, that paints a picture of a stereotypical angel (without the wings of course.)
I wouldn't give Shiftlet so much credit, though...even though he got her some food and paid for it, he LEFT her there...with the inability to communicate, and worse, to find her way home. Before they run off on their honeymoon, Shiftlet expresses being upset "by the word 'milk'" (pg. 180.) BUT he does milk her in a sense...yes, he fixed up the car, and yes, he marries her daughter, but he takes the car and leaves his wife. I think he gives himself too much credit because of how much he did for them; he fixed up their house/yard and got the car to start running again.
The last 2 1/2 pages drive me nuts. Up until the hitchhiker gets into the car with Shiftlet, O'Connor gives us a story with a flow that makes perfect sense to the reader. Honestly, every time I read this, I have to reread the last 2 1/2 pages over and over again...Austin pointed out that his "mother" - "an angel of gawd" represents both Lucynells. But this last segment, where he argues with the hitchhiker, and basically commands rain to wash away the slime of the earth, makes me think that he's either psychotic or a religious figure...so which is it?
Like Brad, during the first read I focused on Shiftlet's betrayal of Lucynell...and this time around the waiter really creeped me out. However...he spoke the truth when he described her as "an angel of gawd." She was wearing a white dress, and if you picture her laying there with her eyes closed...and, for me, that paints a picture of a stereotypical angel (without the wings of course.)
I wouldn't give Shiftlet so much credit, though...even though he got her some food and paid for it, he LEFT her there...with the inability to communicate, and worse, to find her way home. Before they run off on their honeymoon, Shiftlet expresses being upset "by the word 'milk'" (pg. 180.) BUT he does milk her in a sense...yes, he fixed up the car, and yes, he marries her daughter, but he takes the car and leaves his wife. I think he gives himself too much credit because of how much he did for them; he fixed up their house/yard and got the car to start running again.
The last 2 1/2 pages drive me nuts. Up until the hitchhiker gets into the car with Shiftlet, O'Connor gives us a story with a flow that makes perfect sense to the reader. Honestly, every time I read this, I have to reread the last 2 1/2 pages over and over again...Austin pointed out that his "mother" - "an angel of gawd" represents both Lucynells. But this last segment, where he argues with the hitchhiker, and basically commands rain to wash away the slime of the earth, makes me think that he's either psychotic or a religious figure...so which is it?
The Life you Save... Take two
For the first read, toward the end of the story I concentrated on Mr. Shiftlet's abandonment of Lucynell. Upon re-reading, I am now thinking it is someone else who trumps his deviat behavior: the bus boy at the restaurant. As she is sleeping, he "[bends] over again and very carefully touched his finger to a strand of the golden hair..." on page 182, right after being struck by her angelic innocence. This gives me the shivers. I am reminded of the rapist that picks up young Tarwater in his car in The Violent...
As always, O'Connor is crafting very perplexing characters. Sure, Shiftlet does abandon her, but he does give some of the money to pay for her to be fed. He could have pocketed all that money. As I have said, for me upon second reading, this is greatly overshadowed by any sexual violation that may later occur at the hand of the restaurant boy. Of course, it is Shiftlet that does leave her, to be they prey of anyone from the open road.
This also complicates things when taking the title into account. The title implies agency. The mother Lucynell and Mr. Shiftlet are both able to take action to bring about their desired results. The daughter Lucynell on the other hand is the only character that cannot do anything to save herself. Sure, being abandoned is horrible, but she also is at the mercy of this creep in the restaurant. She cannot save her life or anybody else's.
As always, O'Connor is crafting very perplexing characters. Sure, Shiftlet does abandon her, but he does give some of the money to pay for her to be fed. He could have pocketed all that money. As I have said, for me upon second reading, this is greatly overshadowed by any sexual violation that may later occur at the hand of the restaurant boy. Of course, it is Shiftlet that does leave her, to be they prey of anyone from the open road.
This also complicates things when taking the title into account. The title implies agency. The mother Lucynell and Mr. Shiftlet are both able to take action to bring about their desired results. The daughter Lucynell on the other hand is the only character that cannot do anything to save herself. Sure, being abandoned is horrible, but she also is at the mercy of this creep in the restaurant. She cannot save her life or anybody else's.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Holiday
So here are a few items I'd like to discuss for "Holiday" tomorrow...
1. Porter's technique of creating silence in a story: Silence is referrenced frequently as a theme in the story (and of course, we should discuss that ultimately), but what about the function of silence as a purely technical device in Porter's writing? How is it possible--literally--for a writer to create a sense of silence in a medium that requires one to use words? The narrator speaks directly to the audience, and yet, because the story uses dialogue so sparingly, the reflective narration assumes the quality of a series of images, rather than a string of sounds. Why do the images in this story seem so much more silent than the images of many other stories we have read? (Or am I the only reader with this impression?)
2. Silence: Barrier to communication or the means of ultimate, transcendent communication?
Is silence a mark of alienated individuality (as in the case of Ottilie), or does a certain level of silent physicality actually reinforce a communal bond? The family is bound by common language, but also, emphatically, by shared physical traits (and these physical traits are the marks by which the narrator recognizes Ottilie as a member of the family). The narrator relishes the isolation of silence in the beginning of the story, remarking that silence--in this case, linguistic isolation--"means a freedom from the constant pressure of other minds...the freedom to fold up in quiet and go back to my own center" (413). The narrator watches and narrates--linguistically, to an audience, at a distance from his/her narrative objects, as an isolated individual observer making use of language as a mechanism or medium which implies an alienation. S/he notices that Hatsy's groom resembles her brothers, but "nobody ever noticed this except myself, and I said nothing because it would have been the remark of a stranger and hopeless outsider" (421, emphasis mine). In fact, the narrator almost never expresses his/herself in dialogue--except in a few lines at the very beginning of the story, to a college friend, before s/he ever reaches the farm. Linguistic silence isolates him/her as a guest, but physical tasks--helping Hatsy in the garden, sweeping glass after the storm--seem to be the beginnings of an attachment within the family. Physical effort, though still silent, allows some kind of communal identity, if not the individual identity carved out by linguistic communication.
3. Ottilie, as a crux between this physical, communal identity, and linguistically-isolated individual identity. (Are these two different directions in which "silence" might go?)
The passage I'd really like to examine is on page 417, the paragraph beginning "there was a gust of excited talk in German...". The narrator remarks that the family is united in "tribal scepticisms...[that they were] one human being divided into several separate appearances"(417). This seems to suggest the physical nature of communal identity. But then the narrator goes on to say, using very physical terms, that s/he "felt divided into many fragments, having left or lost a part of myself in every place I had travelled, in every life mine had touched, above all, in every death of someone near to me that had carried into the grave some part of my living cells." This seems to suggest a contradictory thesis, that the linguistic isolation the narrator experiences actually contributes to a sense of physical fragmentation, of a loss of identity. Then, the final line of the paragraph: "But the servant, she was whole, and belonged nowhere." Does this then suggest that linguistic alienation can create a healthy individual identity? Is belonging nowhere a freedom or a curse? Why should the Muellers, a family so emphatically rooted in physicality, physical labor ("muscular life"), physical similarities, and their physical, natural surroundings, alienate a physical member of their family because she cannot speak?
4. Silence as a plot device. The first paragraph of the story mystifies me (in a good way). We are not meant to know, presumably, what the heck the narrator is specifically referring to, and the plot of the story never doubles back to illuminate it. So the great silence running througout the story is the narrator's mysterious, unspoken past.
5. Das Kapital. The father Mueller is a fan. Porter goes so far as to describe it as a "canonical, once-delivered text," which father Mueller treats as "a very bible." In some ways, the Muellers are the ultimate Marxist family in the sense that they are expressing their humanity through their labor--they are not alienated from their labor. They own their farm and eat what they produce. In other ways, their lifestyle echoes the idealized, capitalist myth of the hardworking farm family--everyone contributes his or her use-value. Ottilie's use-value is determined by what she is able to produce. In a story with so many intersecting themes of alienation, individuality and communal identity, I know I know I know there must be some threads we can pull out of this Das Kapital reference, and I'd really like to know what other people make of it.
1. Porter's technique of creating silence in a story: Silence is referrenced frequently as a theme in the story (and of course, we should discuss that ultimately), but what about the function of silence as a purely technical device in Porter's writing? How is it possible--literally--for a writer to create a sense of silence in a medium that requires one to use words? The narrator speaks directly to the audience, and yet, because the story uses dialogue so sparingly, the reflective narration assumes the quality of a series of images, rather than a string of sounds. Why do the images in this story seem so much more silent than the images of many other stories we have read? (Or am I the only reader with this impression?)
2. Silence: Barrier to communication or the means of ultimate, transcendent communication?
Is silence a mark of alienated individuality (as in the case of Ottilie), or does a certain level of silent physicality actually reinforce a communal bond? The family is bound by common language, but also, emphatically, by shared physical traits (and these physical traits are the marks by which the narrator recognizes Ottilie as a member of the family). The narrator relishes the isolation of silence in the beginning of the story, remarking that silence--in this case, linguistic isolation--"means a freedom from the constant pressure of other minds...the freedom to fold up in quiet and go back to my own center" (413). The narrator watches and narrates--linguistically, to an audience, at a distance from his/her narrative objects, as an isolated individual observer making use of language as a mechanism or medium which implies an alienation. S/he notices that Hatsy's groom resembles her brothers, but "nobody ever noticed this except myself, and I said nothing because it would have been the remark of a stranger and hopeless outsider" (421, emphasis mine). In fact, the narrator almost never expresses his/herself in dialogue--except in a few lines at the very beginning of the story, to a college friend, before s/he ever reaches the farm. Linguistic silence isolates him/her as a guest, but physical tasks--helping Hatsy in the garden, sweeping glass after the storm--seem to be the beginnings of an attachment within the family. Physical effort, though still silent, allows some kind of communal identity, if not the individual identity carved out by linguistic communication.
3. Ottilie, as a crux between this physical, communal identity, and linguistically-isolated individual identity. (Are these two different directions in which "silence" might go?)
The passage I'd really like to examine is on page 417, the paragraph beginning "there was a gust of excited talk in German...". The narrator remarks that the family is united in "tribal scepticisms...[that they were] one human being divided into several separate appearances"(417). This seems to suggest the physical nature of communal identity. But then the narrator goes on to say, using very physical terms, that s/he "felt divided into many fragments, having left or lost a part of myself in every place I had travelled, in every life mine had touched, above all, in every death of someone near to me that had carried into the grave some part of my living cells." This seems to suggest a contradictory thesis, that the linguistic isolation the narrator experiences actually contributes to a sense of physical fragmentation, of a loss of identity. Then, the final line of the paragraph: "But the servant, she was whole, and belonged nowhere." Does this then suggest that linguistic alienation can create a healthy individual identity? Is belonging nowhere a freedom or a curse? Why should the Muellers, a family so emphatically rooted in physicality, physical labor ("muscular life"), physical similarities, and their physical, natural surroundings, alienate a physical member of their family because she cannot speak?
4. Silence as a plot device. The first paragraph of the story mystifies me (in a good way). We are not meant to know, presumably, what the heck the narrator is specifically referring to, and the plot of the story never doubles back to illuminate it. So the great silence running througout the story is the narrator's mysterious, unspoken past.
5. Das Kapital. The father Mueller is a fan. Porter goes so far as to describe it as a "canonical, once-delivered text," which father Mueller treats as "a very bible." In some ways, the Muellers are the ultimate Marxist family in the sense that they are expressing their humanity through their labor--they are not alienated from their labor. They own their farm and eat what they produce. In other ways, their lifestyle echoes the idealized, capitalist myth of the hardworking farm family--everyone contributes his or her use-value. Ottilie's use-value is determined by what she is able to produce. In a story with so many intersecting themes of alienation, individuality and communal identity, I know I know I know there must be some threads we can pull out of this Das Kapital reference, and I'd really like to know what other people make of it.
The Slime You Wash May Be Your Own
This is probably my favorite O'Connor story; I love the sliminess of Shiftlet - from his greasy hair to his elusive name. He shifts names as easily as gears (just as Aaron Sparks might replace plugs, or George Speeds might get pulled over, or Thompson Bright might warn you of deer on the road), shifts locations (from Lucynell's "permanent place" to Mobile); his name seems to beg its audience for permission to do as he wills, as his spirit would, as an automobile would, "always on the move"; just let Shiftlet shift.
But his slipperyness foils me, too. Is he a malicious character, or simply a negligent (i.e., shiftless) one? At times, to me, his gestures seem if not generous, then at least benign. "He had not been around a week before the change he had made in the place was apparent." He doesn't suggest marriage, though does wait to be offered the car to consent. He never made clear his intent to abandon Lucynell Jr., it only seems to have occured to him immediately before he did it.
And his mother, whom he talks to the young hitchhiker about - I hope I'm not alone in reading this as a composite of the Lucynells. If that's true then he's either lying to the hitchhiker or to himself, or both. If it's his real mother, then man, we don't know shift about Shiftlet.
And what of the grace moment? Does Shiftlet have it? Is it implied for Lucynell I? For the young hitchhiker?
But his slipperyness foils me, too. Is he a malicious character, or simply a negligent (i.e., shiftless) one? At times, to me, his gestures seem if not generous, then at least benign. "He had not been around a week before the change he had made in the place was apparent." He doesn't suggest marriage, though does wait to be offered the car to consent. He never made clear his intent to abandon Lucynell Jr., it only seems to have occured to him immediately before he did it.
And his mother, whom he talks to the young hitchhiker about - I hope I'm not alone in reading this as a composite of the Lucynells. If that's true then he's either lying to the hitchhiker or to himself, or both. If it's his real mother, then man, we don't know shift about Shiftlet.
And what of the grace moment? Does Shiftlet have it? Is it implied for Lucynell I? For the young hitchhiker?
"He" and deformity
I loved reading "He" again. I am glad that we brought up the theme of deformity again in class because it is a reoccuring theme throughout the works. I love the way that O'Connor often omits the persepectives of those that have mental/physical disabilities. This is true in "Holiday," "the River" and "He". While the reader is disconnected from what the individual is going through, he or she is still connected to these characters through their moments of extreme emotion. In these three stories I have felt overwhelming pity for these characters because the world seems to forget about them while the reader is forced to follow their stories. These stories also include a "normal" individual who becomes struck or exceedingly concerned by the forgotten person. In "The River," this individual is the man who tries to save Bevel at the end of the story. In "Holiday," the protagonist becomes fascinated by the servant girl and in the end takes action to include her in the rest of the family's activities. The mother in "He" also becomes obsessed with trying to treat Bevel equally. As readers, we are able to sympathize with these "normal" individuals and see a bit of our own anxiousness when we are confronted by deformity or our desire to save/help people with disabilities. I love that O'Connor and Porter are able to bring this out in the reader.
Monday, December 1, 2008
good book on disabilities
Our conversation today on O'Connor's preoccupation with those with disabilities or deformities reminded me of a book I read for a religious studies class years ago.
The book is called Between Heaven and Earth, and it's by Robert A. Orsi.
It's a book about Catholicism, pre-Vatican II, and neither of our two authors are ever mentioned, but a great part of it deals with Catholicism and the disabled. Orsi goes as far as to argue that in giving charity to the disabled, they are fetishized or set apart as "the exotic Other," and he makes a great case for it.
Orsi argues that this phenomenon is distinctly Catholic, not really present as fetishized in any other branch of Christianity.
I thought for those writing on O'Connor, this could be interesting considering not only her religion but her pre-Vatican II stance on that religion.
I know it's very late in the game, but I thought perhaps this source could help.
He - Jessica's Paper
This really could be stretching it...but after class I started thinking about how some animals actually behave more like humans than some people. A few weeks ago in my Anthropology class we were discussing characteristics of chimps, and how they show emotions just like humans do. My professor was studying chimps with a group of people and a woman he worked with was pregnant during the study. One of the chimps would sign to her, and he understood that she was going to have a baby. When she came back, her stomach was smaller, and the chimp signed, asking where the baby was. She communicated that she had a miscarriage...the baby was not with her. The chimp did not respond with his version of words (signing)...his body immediately slumped over, and he stumbled backwards. Then he signed "cry." He spent the rest of the day holding the woman, stroking her hair as though she was his own. I found this story fascinating, and I related this to your topic discussed today because of body language. Before emotions are shown on someone's face, the emotions are naturally conveyed through the body. The fact that this chimp is not "human" does not discourage his ability to show emotions. I don't know if this pertains to what you are analyzing, but this is the first thing that came to my mind when Professor Cook said something along the lines of, "'He' is referred to as an animal, which, in a way, makes him more evolved than the rest of the characters" towards the end of class. You can always read through what someone says, but body language and facial expressions never lie, no matter how good of an actor someone is. Obviously in this story silence does not make "He" less human, rather it allows him to be more human...he has his body language and facial expressions, which he cannot sensor.
He and KAP
In "He" I thought about the family aspect especially with the mother, Mrs. Whipple. I feel as if Mrs. Whipple is the over-bearing, judgemental mother, she not only favors "He" but she makes it widely known that she prefers him. I feel that KAP is making a statement about her family and how a mother or father figure should not have favorites but many times do and they usually prefer the child whom is "simple" and provides the most for the family. With my research of KAP, I've found that within her famliy dynamic, her idea of parental figures seems skewed especially when favoritism could be a factor. It seemed that KAP had some specific feelings anout her siblings and what they provided in her family. In her biography and some of her letters she alludes to her family in a favoritism light she tends to favor her older siblings and she is cruel to her younger sister Baby. Which allows me to think that the way Mrs. Whipple describes Adna and Emily. I wonder if they represent Baby and maybe herself as well. It seems that her older sibling represent siblings as "He" which might also allude to the fact that "He" does not have an actual name. "He" also takes care of things around the house where Emily and Anda cannot they just allow "He" to take of things. Because "He" and KAP's older siblings were so much more capable for helping around the house they were favored by their parents, Mrs. Whipple and KAP's father.
Good Counrty People
I thought this story was very interesting the second time around with the idea of Pointer and the masculine nature of this character throughout the story. Pointer's name the phallic symbol through his name. I also thought it was interesting that the character develops the masculine nature through the illusion he portrays as well as his actual character.
In the illusion he portrays himself as a Bible salesman which in my opinion is a very masculine role during the time period, to be preaching the word of God as well as a salesman. Even though his manipulation of Hulga depends upon his innocence, I feel as if his character still has masculine nature about him, with him asking Hulga to meet him and go with him.
Then when his true character is shown he portrays a more modern man with the brief case of sexual items and the flask. Also he talks her up to the loft and convinces her to show him her leg. Pointer possesses a certain masculine and convincing nature which allows him to take advantage of Hulga.
I was wondering what everyone thought about O'Conner's is saying about men in the story, when she has the embodiment of masculinity abandons the woman who lets her guard down and allows for herself to be dependent upon a man?
In the illusion he portrays himself as a Bible salesman which in my opinion is a very masculine role during the time period, to be preaching the word of God as well as a salesman. Even though his manipulation of Hulga depends upon his innocence, I feel as if his character still has masculine nature about him, with him asking Hulga to meet him and go with him.
Then when his true character is shown he portrays a more modern man with the brief case of sexual items and the flask. Also he talks her up to the loft and convinces her to show him her leg. Pointer possesses a certain masculine and convincing nature which allows him to take advantage of Hulga.
I was wondering what everyone thought about O'Conner's is saying about men in the story, when she has the embodiment of masculinity abandons the woman who lets her guard down and allows for herself to be dependent upon a man?
A Good Man is Hard to Find
For this post, I am interested in looking at the epistemological content of the saying: "The salt of the earth." This saying is prevalent in O'Connor's writing and is typically used to explain "good country people" by other people who consider themselves also to be "good country people." This saying, in the context previously mentioned, creates a sense of kinships and community, much like that of the Christian faith, a recurring theme in O'Connors works. Not surprisingly enough, the origin of the phrase, "The salt of the earth" is biblical. This saying occurs in the book of Matthew 5:13
Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing,
but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men.
What is interesting to me is not the phrase "The salt of the earth" itself, but the remainder of the verse. The saying "the salt of the earth" in its own does not hold much weight in comparison to the rest of the verse. In using this saying, O'Connor seems to be questioning the values of good country people, which we definitely see in the motif of prejudice vs. tolerance in A Good Man is Hard to Find. Just because country people consider themselves to be good, does not make them good. It is through questioning, through understanding that the salt of the earth has, in fact, lost its' flavor, that goodness is achieved. Thus, O'Connor asks both her characters and her readers to understand what they believe.
Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing,
but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men.
What is interesting to me is not the phrase "The salt of the earth" itself, but the remainder of the verse. The saying "the salt of the earth" in its own does not hold much weight in comparison to the rest of the verse. In using this saying, O'Connor seems to be questioning the values of good country people, which we definitely see in the motif of prejudice vs. tolerance in A Good Man is Hard to Find. Just because country people consider themselves to be good, does not make them good. It is through questioning, through understanding that the salt of the earth has, in fact, lost its' flavor, that goodness is achieved. Thus, O'Connor asks both her characters and her readers to understand what they believe.
"The River" is my favorite, and "He" is simmalar
Upon re-reading "The River" it has become my favorite of O'Connor's stories. One of the things that makes it different from her other southern stories is the travel, and sense of place. As He travels it adds a chaotic and almost surreal quality to the plot and adds to the spiritual warfare inherent within the boy. The setting seems to flow like the river, and the language, although unusual at times sweeps the reader under with murky colors, and dirty characters who are pushing He along the current to his death. The river is a perfect metaphor for being led to death, and in accordance with the Christian symbolism of baptism. I think this is one of O'Connor's more well rounded pieces, and it shows the full extent of her talent.
I feel like "He" conveys a very similar mother child relationship, and that the authors are exploring similar acceptable reactions to having children, and that child's need for parenting being contradictory to the lifestyle the parent would like to lead.
I feel like "He" conveys a very similar mother child relationship, and that the authors are exploring similar acceptable reactions to having children, and that child's need for parenting being contradictory to the lifestyle the parent would like to lead.
Second Glance at He
It occurred to me during the second read-through of “He” that Katherine Anne Porter may be making a statement about the concept of utilitarianism. The utilitarian philosophy discusses the idea: 1) the value of a thing is based on its utility 2) all action should tend toward benefiting the greatest number of people with the greatest amount of happiness. Porter may be suggesting—through Mrs. Whipple’s treatment of her son He—that utilitarianism as a philosophical theory practiced as a lifestyle is a selfish and unrealistic lifestyle.
Mrs. Whipple treats He as if his value were based only on what he can do to assist the Whipple family on the farm. She used him to do the dirty work of the farm. When stealing the pig away from its mother proved too tedious a task for her or her daughters, Mrs. Whipple “gave Him a little push toward the pen” (52). When Adna cannot handle the bees, she employs He to do the task because “if He gets a sting He really don’t mind” (51). When Mrs. Whipple refused to go get the neighbor’s bull to breed because “she was scared sick of bulls” she had no problem asking He to fetch it (55). He is a commodity to Mrs. Whipple and the farm; his worth is correlated with his ability and his utility.
The “actions” of Mrs. Whipple’s relationship with he, furthermore, emulate the facets of utilitarian. Everything associated with the boy stems from her desire please the greatest amount of people despite the hurt she brings upon her child. She steals blankets off his cot in the wintertime and provides only her daughters with warm clothing because she believes he can do without those necessities, and it is better to benefit the healthy minded children because they can further the family’s successes. Mrs. Whipple “loaded up a big plate for Him first, before everybody” when her brother’s family comes to dine to put on the presentation of happiness. To create the allusion of having He taken care of puts the rest of the family—and her brother’s family—at ease so they may enjoy their meal. Finally, she benefits the good of her family rather than the good of the individual son by shipping He off to the County Home. She claimed that although “she had loved Him as much as she possibly could, there were Adna and Emly to be thought of too;” there was herself to think of too, her belly to feed, her reputation to protect.
What interests me about this “utilitarian” relationship Mrs. Whipple has with He is the angle of He being a symbol of Christ. For the reasons we’ve discussed in class, He symbolizes Christ and the “innocent [who] walks with God” (50). Is Porter saying, then, that we treat Christ as a utility and his value to humanity is only from what he can do for us? Is she saying that like Mrs. Whipple who turned to God in prayer only when her reputation was at stake for mistreating her son—she prayed “Lord, you know they’ll say we didn’t take care of Him. Oh, get him home, safe…Amen” when she feared for her own status—we too, only turn to Christ when we need to get something out of him and help our own happiness? Is Christ’s role in the lives of humanity merely the utilitarian sacrifice for universal happiness? Is that wrong?
Mrs. Whipple treats He as if his value were based only on what he can do to assist the Whipple family on the farm. She used him to do the dirty work of the farm. When stealing the pig away from its mother proved too tedious a task for her or her daughters, Mrs. Whipple “gave Him a little push toward the pen” (52). When Adna cannot handle the bees, she employs He to do the task because “if He gets a sting He really don’t mind” (51). When Mrs. Whipple refused to go get the neighbor’s bull to breed because “she was scared sick of bulls” she had no problem asking He to fetch it (55). He is a commodity to Mrs. Whipple and the farm; his worth is correlated with his ability and his utility.
The “actions” of Mrs. Whipple’s relationship with he, furthermore, emulate the facets of utilitarian. Everything associated with the boy stems from her desire please the greatest amount of people despite the hurt she brings upon her child. She steals blankets off his cot in the wintertime and provides only her daughters with warm clothing because she believes he can do without those necessities, and it is better to benefit the healthy minded children because they can further the family’s successes. Mrs. Whipple “loaded up a big plate for Him first, before everybody” when her brother’s family comes to dine to put on the presentation of happiness. To create the allusion of having He taken care of puts the rest of the family—and her brother’s family—at ease so they may enjoy their meal. Finally, she benefits the good of her family rather than the good of the individual son by shipping He off to the County Home. She claimed that although “she had loved Him as much as she possibly could, there were Adna and Emly to be thought of too;” there was herself to think of too, her belly to feed, her reputation to protect.
What interests me about this “utilitarian” relationship Mrs. Whipple has with He is the angle of He being a symbol of Christ. For the reasons we’ve discussed in class, He symbolizes Christ and the “innocent [who] walks with God” (50). Is Porter saying, then, that we treat Christ as a utility and his value to humanity is only from what he can do for us? Is she saying that like Mrs. Whipple who turned to God in prayer only when her reputation was at stake for mistreating her son—she prayed “Lord, you know they’ll say we didn’t take care of Him. Oh, get him home, safe…Amen” when she feared for her own status—we too, only turn to Christ when we need to get something out of him and help our own happiness? Is Christ’s role in the lives of humanity merely the utilitarian sacrifice for universal happiness? Is that wrong?
Conflating disability and disease in HE
One of the things I find most interesting about this story is the way in which the titular character's family (and larger community) associates developmental disability with disease and, to some extent, infection. As modern readers, most of us went to inclusive public schools as children and many grew up with disabled schoolmates, friends, siblings, etc. We know that a mental handicap has nothing to do with disease, upbringing or some sort of moral 'predestination'. He's family, however, constantly assumes that his body is inherently unwell, to the point that they neglect his physical needs (because he's "like that") and he actually does become sick. During the hard winter, Mrs. Whipple's daughter's need warm clothes, but instead of procuring some new coats she gives the boy's warm clothes to the daughters, explaining, "He won't need so much." The implication is that His body is intrinsically different, with separate needs from the "healthy" bodies of His sisters.
Inevitably, without warm clothes for the cold, He becomes sick. This prompts a visit from the local doctor, who pronounces, "He isn't as stout as he looks...you've got to watch them when they're like that." For the reader, the reason for He's illness is apparent, but the family and the community (as represented by the doctor) do not even consider this blatantly obvious conclusion, opting instead to blame his difference, accepting poor health as part of his disability.
Before this, every raw description of the boy seems to indicate a strong, healthy young body who can lead a bull by himself and do more heavy work than any one else in his family. Nonetheless, the community (neighbors) considers Him doomed from the beginning, saying, "A Lord's Pure Mercy if he should die...It's the sins of the fathers." It is expected that He will die from this disability, which is given a transmittable (infectious) property: like a hereditary disease, He's handicap has passed down through the family, a kind of moral virus. These bullheaded, medieval attitudes towards difference/disability lead directly to the neglect He receives; lack of warm clothing, lack of care for his many injuries (because, "He never got hurt."), and the final sending away to the horrors of a state mental institution.
This conflation present in the family and community of "He" is ultimately epitomized by the conduct of the neighbor who drives He and his mother to the institution. While He weeps in impotent despair in the backseat, the driver stares ahead, "not daring to look behind him." The driver is afraid of catching whatever it is that, in the communal mind, has infected this family and manifested itself in the boy.
Inevitably, without warm clothes for the cold, He becomes sick. This prompts a visit from the local doctor, who pronounces, "He isn't as stout as he looks...you've got to watch them when they're like that." For the reader, the reason for He's illness is apparent, but the family and the community (as represented by the doctor) do not even consider this blatantly obvious conclusion, opting instead to blame his difference, accepting poor health as part of his disability.
Before this, every raw description of the boy seems to indicate a strong, healthy young body who can lead a bull by himself and do more heavy work than any one else in his family. Nonetheless, the community (neighbors) considers Him doomed from the beginning, saying, "A Lord's Pure Mercy if he should die...It's the sins of the fathers." It is expected that He will die from this disability, which is given a transmittable (infectious) property: like a hereditary disease, He's handicap has passed down through the family, a kind of moral virus. These bullheaded, medieval attitudes towards difference/disability lead directly to the neglect He receives; lack of warm clothing, lack of care for his many injuries (because, "He never got hurt."), and the final sending away to the horrors of a state mental institution.
This conflation present in the family and community of "He" is ultimately epitomized by the conduct of the neighbor who drives He and his mother to the institution. While He weeps in impotent despair in the backseat, the driver stares ahead, "not daring to look behind him." The driver is afraid of catching whatever it is that, in the communal mind, has infected this family and manifested itself in the boy.
Good Country People - take two
I think the first time I read this story, I was getting Mrs. Hopewell and Mrs. Freeman confused. That said, I think it is very interesting that the story opens with a description of Mrs. Freeman, not Mrs. Hopewell, when Mrs. Hopewell becomes more of a central character than she does. Once Joy is introduced, the emphasis does seem to shift subtly to the Hopewells. Sure, Mrs. Freeman and her two "fine girls" are always present, but the focus seems to be on their relation to the Hopewells. I am wondering why O'Connor may be introducing the story this way only to shift such a focus to other characters.
Also, my second main thought in re-reading was Joy/Hulga's choice to go with the Bible salesman. She seems like such a strong-willed character. What on earth did she see in Manly Pointer?? I wish we could get the dialogue between the two in the front yard that night he leaves the house. From what we get of her character, it seems like she would accept no man other than a fellow PhD-holder, but Manly Pointer seems so beneath what she thinks of herself.
If we view this in terms of the setting, the country, could it be a statement on the seclusion of such places? If we look at the Tarwater place in The Violent Bear it Away and the homestead in "The Life you Save...," it seems as though these country places of O'Connor's are very secluded and isolated. Could the pickings merely be that slim for Joy/Hulga?
Also, my second main thought in re-reading was Joy/Hulga's choice to go with the Bible salesman. She seems like such a strong-willed character. What on earth did she see in Manly Pointer?? I wish we could get the dialogue between the two in the front yard that night he leaves the house. From what we get of her character, it seems like she would accept no man other than a fellow PhD-holder, but Manly Pointer seems so beneath what she thinks of herself.
If we view this in terms of the setting, the country, could it be a statement on the seclusion of such places? If we look at the Tarwater place in The Violent Bear it Away and the homestead in "The Life you Save...," it seems as though these country places of O'Connor's are very secluded and isolated. Could the pickings merely be that slim for Joy/Hulga?
returning to "The River" one last time
In going over The River again over break, I wanted to attempt an answer to one of Michelle's questions on Friday that we really did not cover much.
The question was....
Why doesn't Bevel have a beatific vision?
I am wondering if the "pig" Bevel "sees" in Mr. Paradise could serve the same purpose as such a vision. On page 171, the narrative voice states that Bevel "saw something like a giant pig bounding after him, shaking a red and white club and shouting."
We know this is Mr. Paradise and he was trying to help with a candy cane, but what Bevel sees is much more menacing and threatening. Now I know it is not a celestial vision, but Bevel clearly sees something other than what is there, and considering that pigs are used throughout the story, I cannot help but think that O'Connor means this to be something of a vision: perhaps this is just another thing that Bevel gets wrong, just as his attempt to baptize himself?
Whatever the case may be, I think this misinterpreted vision is important, and I hope this helps?
The question was....
Why doesn't Bevel have a beatific vision?
I am wondering if the "pig" Bevel "sees" in Mr. Paradise could serve the same purpose as such a vision. On page 171, the narrative voice states that Bevel "saw something like a giant pig bounding after him, shaking a red and white club and shouting."
We know this is Mr. Paradise and he was trying to help with a candy cane, but what Bevel sees is much more menacing and threatening. Now I know it is not a celestial vision, but Bevel clearly sees something other than what is there, and considering that pigs are used throughout the story, I cannot help but think that O'Connor means this to be something of a vision: perhaps this is just another thing that Bevel gets wrong, just as his attempt to baptize himself?
Whatever the case may be, I think this misinterpreted vision is important, and I hope this helps?
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Good Country People, or Hulga's First Date
My paper is supposed to be about the stranger as a vehicle for redemption, and I'm hoping to come at that topic from the side by exploring things in this story which interest me more than tackling that idea head-on.
On Mrs. Freeman, the car:
That Mrs. Freeman is described as a car is nothing new or exciting; she has three expressions -- neutral, reverse, and forward, that last of which is "steady and driving like the advance of a heavy truck;" her "gaze drove forward and just touched him before he disappeared."
But why is Mrs. Freeman - or I guess, Mrs. Freeman's look - described as a car in context of the other cars in O'Connor's fiction? In Wise Blood, Hazel Motes's car is both pulpit and weapon, pen and sword; it makes him powerful; it makes him free. Tom T. Shiftlet (of "The Life You Save...") ruins lives to keep mobile and get to Mobile, liberating himself from the ball-and-chain that was only a few hours long. Both men get free, and she is Mrs. Freeman.
There seems to be some kind of disconnect between car = freedom, Freeman = car. It's a poor pun and a worse paper. What am I missing?
On Mrs. Freeman, the proxy:
Meagan points out, "Mrs. Freeman has a weird fascination with people with deformities! Just like Manley Pointer." O'Connor takes it further: "Mrs Freeman had a special fondness for the details of secret infections . . . assaults upon children. Of diseases, she preferred the lingering or incurable."
Pardon my scholarly sin, but this sounds a boatload like O'Connor herself. Maimed characters, raped characters, retarded characters (and otherwise idiot children)...Mrs. Freeman's "special fondnesses" resonate, at least to this O'Connor reader, as the "large and startling figures" that mark the relationship between this fiction writer and her country.
Or is O'Connor taking a break from slapping around intellectuals (poor Hulga) to slap around the people who are drawn to her work -- "If you want it, here it is - LIKE IT IS." The freaks and weirdos, and especially the author of Michelle's elusive abstract "that said that O'Connor's own battle with lupus, "makes its way into her fiction not only literally -- through images of blood, disease, death, and twisted parent-child relationships -- but figuratively as well.”" O'Connor, notoriously sensitive about her disease, brushed off accusations of her fiction as a kind of exorcism of its effect on her severally, though of course I can't find any of those letters now. (No index listing for "lupus".) Mrs. Freeman's fixation on disease - O'Connor's readers' fixation on her's - Mrs. Freeman's laughable simplicity - revenge?
On Names:
Brad made a post about names when we first read this story, and what I want to latch onto from that is this point on the Joy-Hulga dynamic: "I am reminded of "The River" and how there as well, the narrator seemed to be making a very conscious choice of calling the boy not by his God-given name." Brad noticed that after the breakfast scene, "for the rest of the story, the narrator's voice only uses Hulga or "the girl."" I definitely think he's on to something; once they go off on the picnic, Pointer and Hulga become "the boy" and "the girl," "he" and "she." Only the characters themselves call each other by their names; the narrator is hands-off about it.
Could it be because the narrator doesn't know what to call them? Pointer says his name is Pointer, and then he says it's not; Joy says her name is Hulga; who's to be believed?
I can't help but draw comparisons between Shiftlet and Pointer. "And you needn't to think you'll catch me because Pointer ain't really my name." "I can tell you my name is Tom T. Shiftlet and I come from Tarwater, Tennessee . . . How you know my name ain't Aaron Sparks, lady, and I come from Singleberry, Georgia, or how you know it's not George Speeds and I come from Lucy, Alabama, or how you know I ain't Thompson Bright from Toolafalls, Mississippi?" If names are so fluid, how can you know a person? How can you tell this Tarwater from that Tarwater? (With great difficulty... Which is which Lucynell Crater? Like Brad said, there's Joy-Hulga, Harry/Bevel (who I propose is actually just Bevel/Bevel, or 1), and my favorite, the confusion of Heads. From "The Artificial Nigger": "Mr. Head meant him to see everything there is to see in a city so that he would be content to stay at home for the rest of his life. He fell asleep thinking how the boy would at last find out that he was not as smart as he thought he was." There's the male we do read as "he" and then there's the ambiguity of who we can read as "he" (and then of course there's the "He" we have to read, for class, tomorrow) and it's so mixed up I can't help but be mixed up for it. Of course, this ambiguity is avoided in the barn scene of "Good Country People" by the difference of sexes -- "the boy" and "the girl", "he" and "she".
So I guess my question is a reiteration of Ashley's - "what makes them them?" And it's also, who's who? And if that question is even answerable -- is it important? When O'Connor makes one character unremarkable from another in any way, does that just highlight their differences all the more? Does it join them in something common to each? How does it matter?
("'I like girls that wear glasses,' he said." Had Hulga read Dorothy Parker, we could have avoided this mess altogether.)
On Mrs. Freeman, the car:
That Mrs. Freeman is described as a car is nothing new or exciting; she has three expressions -- neutral, reverse, and forward, that last of which is "steady and driving like the advance of a heavy truck;" her "gaze drove forward and just touched him before he disappeared."
But why is Mrs. Freeman - or I guess, Mrs. Freeman's look - described as a car in context of the other cars in O'Connor's fiction? In Wise Blood, Hazel Motes's car is both pulpit and weapon, pen and sword; it makes him powerful; it makes him free. Tom T. Shiftlet (of "The Life You Save...") ruins lives to keep mobile and get to Mobile, liberating himself from the ball-and-chain that was only a few hours long. Both men get free, and she is Mrs. Freeman.
There seems to be some kind of disconnect between car = freedom, Freeman = car. It's a poor pun and a worse paper. What am I missing?
On Mrs. Freeman, the proxy:
Meagan points out, "Mrs. Freeman has a weird fascination with people with deformities! Just like Manley Pointer." O'Connor takes it further: "Mrs Freeman had a special fondness for the details of secret infections . . . assaults upon children. Of diseases, she preferred the lingering or incurable."
Pardon my scholarly sin, but this sounds a boatload like O'Connor herself. Maimed characters, raped characters, retarded characters (and otherwise idiot children)...Mrs. Freeman's "special fondnesses" resonate, at least to this O'Connor reader, as the "large and startling figures" that mark the relationship between this fiction writer and her country.
Or is O'Connor taking a break from slapping around intellectuals (poor Hulga) to slap around the people who are drawn to her work -- "If you want it, here it is - LIKE IT IS." The freaks and weirdos, and especially the author of Michelle's elusive abstract "that said that O'Connor's own battle with lupus, "makes its way into her fiction not only literally -- through images of blood, disease, death, and twisted parent-child relationships -- but figuratively as well.”" O'Connor, notoriously sensitive about her disease, brushed off accusations of her fiction as a kind of exorcism of its effect on her severally, though of course I can't find any of those letters now. (No index listing for "lupus".) Mrs. Freeman's fixation on disease - O'Connor's readers' fixation on her's - Mrs. Freeman's laughable simplicity - revenge?
On Names:
Brad made a post about names when we first read this story, and what I want to latch onto from that is this point on the Joy-Hulga dynamic: "I am reminded of "The River" and how there as well, the narrator seemed to be making a very conscious choice of calling the boy not by his God-given name." Brad noticed that after the breakfast scene, "for the rest of the story, the narrator's voice only uses Hulga or "the girl."" I definitely think he's on to something; once they go off on the picnic, Pointer and Hulga become "the boy" and "the girl," "he" and "she." Only the characters themselves call each other by their names; the narrator is hands-off about it.
Could it be because the narrator doesn't know what to call them? Pointer says his name is Pointer, and then he says it's not; Joy says her name is Hulga; who's to be believed?
I can't help but draw comparisons between Shiftlet and Pointer. "And you needn't to think you'll catch me because Pointer ain't really my name." "I can tell you my name is Tom T. Shiftlet and I come from Tarwater, Tennessee . . . How you know my name ain't Aaron Sparks, lady, and I come from Singleberry, Georgia, or how you know it's not George Speeds and I come from Lucy, Alabama, or how you know I ain't Thompson Bright from Toolafalls, Mississippi?" If names are so fluid, how can you know a person? How can you tell this Tarwater from that Tarwater? (With great difficulty... Which is which Lucynell Crater? Like Brad said, there's Joy-Hulga, Harry/Bevel (who I propose is actually just Bevel/Bevel, or 1), and my favorite, the confusion of Heads. From "The Artificial Nigger": "Mr. Head meant him to see everything there is to see in a city so that he would be content to stay at home for the rest of his life. He fell asleep thinking how the boy would at last find out that he was not as smart as he thought he was." There's the male we do read as "he" and then there's the ambiguity of who we can read as "he" (and then of course there's the "He" we have to read, for class, tomorrow) and it's so mixed up I can't help but be mixed up for it. Of course, this ambiguity is avoided in the barn scene of "Good Country People" by the difference of sexes -- "the boy" and "the girl", "he" and "she".
So I guess my question is a reiteration of Ashley's - "what makes them them?" And it's also, who's who? And if that question is even answerable -- is it important? When O'Connor makes one character unremarkable from another in any way, does that just highlight their differences all the more? Does it join them in something common to each? How does it matter?
("'I like girls that wear glasses,' he said." Had Hulga read Dorothy Parker, we could have avoided this mess altogether.)
"He" is better off dead?
There seems to be a common theme with these two authors in killing people who don't have the same kind of future that most people around them do. Any kind of deformity or unwanted background calls for the character to be sacrificed for the greater good of the other characters. I know He wasn't killed, but he might as well have been. We talked about how the homes that special needs people go into were terrible back then, and it is pretty apparent that He already has been sick or having some sort of other trouble.
I don't really have a whole lot to say about this story, except that I'm wondering what the purpose of this is? I don't think I'm comfortable with just thinking that this is how the authors feel, but maybe it's how they feel about humanity?
I don't really have a whole lot to say about this story, except that I'm wondering what the purpose of this is? I don't think I'm comfortable with just thinking that this is how the authors feel, but maybe it's how they feel about humanity?
Foreshadowing in GCP
I think I said this in class before, but I had completely forgotten all about GCP except for Hulga's character. Fortunately, this time while reading, I remembered everything I thought while I was reading.
That being said, I had completely missed all the foreshadowing the first time reading it. One of the passages I completely missed before, but that is an excellent way of foreshadowing, is the top paragraph on page 267. Mrs. Freeman has a weird fascination with people with deformities! Just like Manley Pointer (excuse me while I laugh about this name...). I never realized it before, but the entire story sets up the ending scene in such a way that it is completely about the ending scene with Pointer and Hulga. I remember the first time reading it, I was so busy concentrating on Mrs. Freeman because I thought the story was going to be about her and Hulga was going to be a side character.
Some other interesting parts I thought were the descriptions of Hulga on page 268 and the narrative structure on page 269-275. Hulga's description kind of foreshadows because it shows her true character. And the narrative structure on the following pages I had missed before and didn't realize that the story of Pointer coming over for dinner was a flashback (at least I think it is a flashback). But there is barely any set up for it and definitely no cues that we are back in "present time." Does anyone have anything to say about this strange temporal ellipses that goes on?
That being said, I had completely missed all the foreshadowing the first time reading it. One of the passages I completely missed before, but that is an excellent way of foreshadowing, is the top paragraph on page 267. Mrs. Freeman has a weird fascination with people with deformities! Just like Manley Pointer (excuse me while I laugh about this name...). I never realized it before, but the entire story sets up the ending scene in such a way that it is completely about the ending scene with Pointer and Hulga. I remember the first time reading it, I was so busy concentrating on Mrs. Freeman because I thought the story was going to be about her and Hulga was going to be a side character.
Some other interesting parts I thought were the descriptions of Hulga on page 268 and the narrative structure on page 269-275. Hulga's description kind of foreshadows because it shows her true character. And the narrative structure on the following pages I had missed before and didn't realize that the story of Pointer coming over for dinner was a flashback (at least I think it is a flashback). But there is barely any set up for it and definitely no cues that we are back in "present time." Does anyone have anything to say about this strange temporal ellipses that goes on?
Themes and Motifs in "He"
I am interested in looking at the narrative point of view in KAP's "He" and how that effects the reader's perspective. "He" is narrated from the point of view of Mrs. Whipple, He's mother. However, the story is about He. Due to his disabilities, He is mute and therefore, silent. Silence is a common motif in KAP's as well as O'Connor"s works. The fact that the story is narrated through the eyes of the protagonist, Mrs. Whipple amplifies the extent to which she IS a protagonist. As the story progresses we learn that He, despite what others may think, has cognitive abilities and can comprehend what is going on around him, although he may not be in direct dialogue with his surroundings.
Another thing I noticed within "He" was the various implications the title "He" may hold. Not only is "He" the title of the story, but also the name of the son. The use of the capital H in He has definite religious implications. In combination with Mrs. Whipple's desire to be held in high esteem by her neighbors, I found ties to Calvinism and the idea of being "elect." In Calvanism (as well as Puritanism and Protestantism) work ethic was held in high esteem. Weber, in his essay "The Protestant Ethic" states,
For everyone without exception God’s Providence has prepared a calling, which he
should profess and in which he should labour. And this calling is not, as it was for the
Lutheran, a fate to which he must submit and which he must make the best of, but
God’s commandment to the individual to work for divine glory
(Weber 160).
As demonstrated by the quote above, Puritans believed that each individual had a prescribed calling in which he should work diligently. The diligent work of the Puritan individual would not only bring glory to God in this world, but would also display his status as “elect” in the next to the members of his community. In his essay, Weber, in regards to the Protestant work ethic states, “The emphasis on the ascetic importance of a fixed calling provided an ethical justification of the modern specialized division of labour” (163). In turn, this ethical justification for the specialized division of labor gave rise to the spirit of capitalism. Regarding the spirit of capitalism, Weber states, “The idea of a man’s duty to his possessions, to which he subordinates himself as an obedient steward, or even as an acquisitive machine, bears with chilling weight on his life” (170). Ellwood Johnson, in the Goodly Word, asserts that this linear and acquisitive mentality associated with the Puritan lifestyle manifested as the pursuit of power. The more power a man yielded, in comparison to his neighbors, the more accountable, and therefore closer, he was to God. Therefore, Mrs. Whipple's desire for material goods implies that she wishes to be seen as, "elect," and therefore, close to God. However, I feel that this story has didactic implications in that, He is symbolic of God. Thus, Mrs. Whipple, in her pursuit of power and her acquisitive drive leads her away from He and therefore, away from God. Mrs. Whipple was already being held accountable of He (God) and therefore, had high standing in His eyes. In sending He away, Mrs. Whipple proves to be ignorant of His love and divorces herself from God, the very thing she thought she had been searching for all along.
Another thing I noticed within "He" was the various implications the title "He" may hold. Not only is "He" the title of the story, but also the name of the son. The use of the capital H in He has definite religious implications. In combination with Mrs. Whipple's desire to be held in high esteem by her neighbors, I found ties to Calvinism and the idea of being "elect." In Calvanism (as well as Puritanism and Protestantism) work ethic was held in high esteem. Weber, in his essay "The Protestant Ethic" states,
For everyone without exception God’s Providence has prepared a calling, which he
should profess and in which he should labour. And this calling is not, as it was for the
Lutheran, a fate to which he must submit and which he must make the best of, but
God’s commandment to the individual to work for divine glory
(Weber 160).
As demonstrated by the quote above, Puritans believed that each individual had a prescribed calling in which he should work diligently. The diligent work of the Puritan individual would not only bring glory to God in this world, but would also display his status as “elect” in the next to the members of his community. In his essay, Weber, in regards to the Protestant work ethic states, “The emphasis on the ascetic importance of a fixed calling provided an ethical justification of the modern specialized division of labour” (163). In turn, this ethical justification for the specialized division of labor gave rise to the spirit of capitalism. Regarding the spirit of capitalism, Weber states, “The idea of a man’s duty to his possessions, to which he subordinates himself as an obedient steward, or even as an acquisitive machine, bears with chilling weight on his life” (170). Ellwood Johnson, in the Goodly Word, asserts that this linear and acquisitive mentality associated with the Puritan lifestyle manifested as the pursuit of power. The more power a man yielded, in comparison to his neighbors, the more accountable, and therefore closer, he was to God. Therefore, Mrs. Whipple's desire for material goods implies that she wishes to be seen as, "elect," and therefore, close to God. However, I feel that this story has didactic implications in that, He is symbolic of God. Thus, Mrs. Whipple, in her pursuit of power and her acquisitive drive leads her away from He and therefore, away from God. Mrs. Whipple was already being held accountable of He (God) and therefore, had high standing in His eyes. In sending He away, Mrs. Whipple proves to be ignorant of His love and divorces herself from God, the very thing she thought she had been searching for all along.
Humanity In "He"
For my final paper I will be addressing the issue of humanity as it is portrayed in Katherine Anne Porter’s “He”. The animal/human distinction plays a major underlying role throughout the story. To start, the Whipple’s have their home on a farm and they work this farm for a living. Their way of life is provided for them by animals; their existence depends on their animals’ production. Therefore they rely on animals. Just as they rely upon the animals of their farm they rely upon their second son, He, to do most of the tedious farm work. He is described several times throughout the story as some sort of animal. When he climbs trees he is described as a monkey; he “went skittering along the branches like a monkey, just a regular monkey” (Porter 50). He is also described as having dog like qualities. He chases possums under fences and waits patiently for his dinner to be brought to him; he evenly eats his dinner in the kitchen, which is separate from the family because they eat in the dining room. The Whipple’s, at least Mrs. Whipple, treats this boy as if he were an animal.
Contrary to what Mrs. Whipple thinks, He is far more human than how he is presented. Simply because he does not speak does not mean he is more animal than human. If anything, this quality makes him more human. It allows him to express honest and true feelings, which cannot be expressed vocally. In most cases it is these deep and genuine feelings that have no words to begin with and therefore can only be articulated through expression and movement. He is only able to communicate through expression and this shows his true communication. Usually more is said through silence than through words themselves. And He enables us to see his family and himself for what they really are.
He actually exhibits many more human characteristics than animal ones. There are times when Mrs. Whipple describes Him as very childlike; she says, “I can’t keep Him out of mischief. He’s so strong and active” (Porter 50). To me, this sounds like a normal kid. He climbs trees and chases animals just as any other normal kid living on a farm would do. One of his most human qualities that is shown in the text is his reaction to the killing of the baby pig. “When He saw the blood He gave a great jolting breath and ran away” (Porter 52). This reaction is instinct. He is frightened by what has just happened; this would be the reaction of any person especially a child who had never witnessed such a gruesome act. Another act of humanity is shown in the end of the story. He realizes that his mother is sending him away and he cries; he understands what is going on. In this moment, his mother becomes just like him, silent. There are no words to express how she is feeling in this moment of genuine sadness and therefore she cries. By crying she is expressing how she is feeling just as He always expresses how he is feeling through his expressions.
Contrary to what Mrs. Whipple thinks, He is far more human than how he is presented. Simply because he does not speak does not mean he is more animal than human. If anything, this quality makes him more human. It allows him to express honest and true feelings, which cannot be expressed vocally. In most cases it is these deep and genuine feelings that have no words to begin with and therefore can only be articulated through expression and movement. He is only able to communicate through expression and this shows his true communication. Usually more is said through silence than through words themselves. And He enables us to see his family and himself for what they really are.
He actually exhibits many more human characteristics than animal ones. There are times when Mrs. Whipple describes Him as very childlike; she says, “I can’t keep Him out of mischief. He’s so strong and active” (Porter 50). To me, this sounds like a normal kid. He climbs trees and chases animals just as any other normal kid living on a farm would do. One of his most human qualities that is shown in the text is his reaction to the killing of the baby pig. “When He saw the blood He gave a great jolting breath and ran away” (Porter 52). This reaction is instinct. He is frightened by what has just happened; this would be the reaction of any person especially a child who had never witnessed such a gruesome act. Another act of humanity is shown in the end of the story. He realizes that his mother is sending him away and he cries; he understands what is going on. In this moment, his mother becomes just like him, silent. There are no words to express how she is feeling in this moment of genuine sadness and therefore she cries. By crying she is expressing how she is feeling just as He always expresses how he is feeling through his expressions.
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