While responding to the post regarding the loss of body in PHPR, I stumbled upon and idea that I would like to investigate in more depth. Moreover, I would like to pose this idea as a springboard for discussion. I am not going to come to any definite conclusions within this post, but I would like to see what the rest of you think about the idea of self-actualization not only within PHPR, but also within other works by Flanner O'Connor and Katherine Anne Porter.
In class, we have frequently discussed the idea of emptiness or flatness in Porter and O'Connor's protagonists. Do you think that it is possible that this emptiness results as a consequence of the process of self-actualization. I'm not sure that any of Porter or O'Connors characters ACTUALLY achieve self-actualization within these stories, but I definitely think that they come very close in that they have startling realizations about themselves and the world in which they live that lead them to feel emptiness and loss of body.
Anyhow, I was going to post quotations from PHPR regarding this idea, but I think there are several examples of these quotes in the post that I just posted and I don't want to be redundant/I'm being totally lazy.
Another interesting thought I had regarding self-actualization within PHPR relates to the journey via horseback that Miranda embarks on within the first few pages of PHPR. Based on the short, often repetitive structure of the sentences in this section, Miranda is obviously feels very frantic and lost. I think that this franticness on her part reflects a mass production of introspective thoughts that she is experiencing at this point in time. I feel that this journey to an unknown destination could be interpreted as being symbolic of a journey towards self-actualization. This voyage via horseback is not mentioned again within the story and therefore, I don't think that Miranda actually reaches self-actualization within the story, but rather works towards it and the self-actualization occurs in a manner that is external to the physical text.
Anyhow, any thoughts on this idea?
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Again, Emptiness in Pale Horse Pale Rider in the Bookends
After finishing PHPR, I still noticed an overlying theme of emptiness. This theme seems to overwhelm the story. Not only do we see the emptiness that war brings, physically, through death and loss of loved ones, but we also see emptiness in the overall tone of the story. The theme of emptiness is most explicit in the beginning and ending of PHPR. Some examples of emptiness occur in the following examples:
"Her heart was a stone lying upon her breast outside of her..." (269).
Here, Miranda notes a disconnect between herself and her heart (which she describes as stone, thus void of feeling).
"And the stranger? Where is that lank greenish stranger I remember hanging about the place..."
There is a recurring motif of Miranda's "stranger" within the beginning of PHPR, which seems to embody the Miranda's inexplicable feelings of panic and emptiness. (269-70).
"Do I even walk about in my own skin or is it something I have borrowed to spare my modesty?" (270).
This quote seems to demonstrate Miranda's feelings of emptiness in that she does not seem to recognize herself. She feels that she is borrowing someone else's body and does not understand the feelings of loss and void that this skin possesses.
In the end of PHPR, emptiness is very prevalent after Miranda's loss of Adam.
"The room was silent, empty, the shade was gone from it..." (317).
Here, emptiness is explicitly stated. More importantly, Miranda seems to feel that it is her own existence that causes this emptiness. Prior to the aforementioned quote Miranda states, "The room was silent, empty, the shade was gone from it, struck away by the sudden violence of her rising and speaking aloud." This statement is interesting because rather than emptiness forcing itself upon Miranda, she seems to be forcing emptiness upon herself by merely existing.
As a whole, the theme of emptiness within this story is pervasive. However, what is more interesting is observing the ways in which the characters create their own feelings of emptiness and void.
"Her heart was a stone lying upon her breast outside of her..." (269).
Here, Miranda notes a disconnect between herself and her heart (which she describes as stone, thus void of feeling).
"And the stranger? Where is that lank greenish stranger I remember hanging about the place..."
There is a recurring motif of Miranda's "stranger" within the beginning of PHPR, which seems to embody the Miranda's inexplicable feelings of panic and emptiness. (269-70).
"Do I even walk about in my own skin or is it something I have borrowed to spare my modesty?" (270).
This quote seems to demonstrate Miranda's feelings of emptiness in that she does not seem to recognize herself. She feels that she is borrowing someone else's body and does not understand the feelings of loss and void that this skin possesses.
In the end of PHPR, emptiness is very prevalent after Miranda's loss of Adam.
"The room was silent, empty, the shade was gone from it..." (317).
Here, emptiness is explicitly stated. More importantly, Miranda seems to feel that it is her own existence that causes this emptiness. Prior to the aforementioned quote Miranda states, "The room was silent, empty, the shade was gone from it, struck away by the sudden violence of her rising and speaking aloud." This statement is interesting because rather than emptiness forcing itself upon Miranda, she seems to be forcing emptiness upon herself by merely existing.
As a whole, the theme of emptiness within this story is pervasive. However, what is more interesting is observing the ways in which the characters create their own feelings of emptiness and void.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Devastation of PHPR
The devastation that occurs in PHPR I think directly connects all of the themes that are presented within the story. I think without one specific theme we would not grasp that amount of devastation that is occurring and how Porter feels about it.
The autobiography point of the story I think actually has some real weight in this story even if we do not parallel the characters of Miranda with Porter, it is obvious that Porter conveys her feelings about the war and the forced patriotism, and also the way Miranda lives her daily life of being alone and working. It just so happens that Miranda is the character which has the most in common with Porter herself. Also I think it is important to acknowledge the fact that Porter as well as Miranda both lived through the flu epidemic after becoming very ill. I think this not only a huge part of the story but also a huge influence in how she viewed the war during this tragedy as not only were they fighting across seas but fighting for their lives at home and even more the evil within. I even think that maybe Porter thought that the war was not where the people should have been contributing their time worrying about being patriotic and what not. But rather people should have been more concerned with the epidemic. I just feel like that could be due to Miranda's unpatriotic tone and also that Adam does not die in the war but by the epidemic.
I also think that the romance aspect of the story greatly develops the idea of the devastation of the war and epidemic. I think the relationship puts a realistic time period on the tragedies that are occurring around them because the forbidden love/romance idea is placed upon us all the time in other piece of literature and movies, so we can relate to a romance that occurs within days. Also it stresses the importance that one must find some sort of joy no matter what devastation is upon you.
The gender differences within the time period are also really stressed and even the boundaries are crossed at so points during the story. The gender distinction of the female are set within the aspect of the war and how women are not allowed to participate in the warfare. This shows that the men still perceive women during this time period as fragile things that they must take care of. The gender lines are crossed with Miranda and her job as a journalist and how she operates her job by putting it first and foremost before Adam or any real life of her own. The gender lines are also crossed when Miranda becomes ill and Adam begins to care for her. He essentially becomes her nurse helping her become well which is inevitably the downfall of Adam.
The autobiography point of the story I think actually has some real weight in this story even if we do not parallel the characters of Miranda with Porter, it is obvious that Porter conveys her feelings about the war and the forced patriotism, and also the way Miranda lives her daily life of being alone and working. It just so happens that Miranda is the character which has the most in common with Porter herself. Also I think it is important to acknowledge the fact that Porter as well as Miranda both lived through the flu epidemic after becoming very ill. I think this not only a huge part of the story but also a huge influence in how she viewed the war during this tragedy as not only were they fighting across seas but fighting for their lives at home and even more the evil within. I even think that maybe Porter thought that the war was not where the people should have been contributing their time worrying about being patriotic and what not. But rather people should have been more concerned with the epidemic. I just feel like that could be due to Miranda's unpatriotic tone and also that Adam does not die in the war but by the epidemic.
I also think that the romance aspect of the story greatly develops the idea of the devastation of the war and epidemic. I think the relationship puts a realistic time period on the tragedies that are occurring around them because the forbidden love/romance idea is placed upon us all the time in other piece of literature and movies, so we can relate to a romance that occurs within days. Also it stresses the importance that one must find some sort of joy no matter what devastation is upon you.
The gender differences within the time period are also really stressed and even the boundaries are crossed at so points during the story. The gender distinction of the female are set within the aspect of the war and how women are not allowed to participate in the warfare. This shows that the men still perceive women during this time period as fragile things that they must take care of. The gender lines are crossed with Miranda and her job as a journalist and how she operates her job by putting it first and foremost before Adam or any real life of her own. The gender lines are also crossed when Miranda becomes ill and Adam begins to care for her. He essentially becomes her nurse helping her become well which is inevitably the downfall of Adam.
Nature/Disease/War
In the hallucination segments of PHPR, when Miranda is sick and delirious between half-recognized visits from Adam and later the nurse and doctors, I noticed a strong correlation between nature imagery and death, which of course is tied to disease and war in this text. Her first hallucination involves feeling that she is lying down in a deep field of snow high in the mountains. The sensation of lying in a deep field of snow, for me, invokes an image of a body in a morgue's freezer. Also, prominent images of world war I often involve bodies strewn out in frozen European fields. Miranda moves from this image to a dense jungle, which she sees as "a writhing terribly alive and secret place of death," the jungle here is the unknown approach of death (in the forms of war and plague), that grows into a cacophonous refrain of "danger danger danger...war war war." It is as if the war has become so dense with pain and suffering that it has spread an arm out towards Miranda, striking her with influenza, a silent manifestation of its violence.
In her next hallucination, Miranda finds herself in a small green wood (like the woods of France), where she witnesses Adam repeatedly stricken dead by arrows, only to rise again, in a macabre cycle that echoes the pointlessness and repetitious horror of war. Once again, nature holds the key to this death. Next she imagines her fathers well bubbling over with water to staunch a poison brought to it by an image of a german soldier; nature (plague) is drowning out human violence with violence of its own. In her final hallucination, she sees "a landscape of sea and sand, of soft meadow and sky, freshly washed and glittering with transparencies of blue;" this pastoral dreamscape contains the faces of all people she has ever known, whose movements are connected with clouds and waves. She feels herself moving among these faces "as a wave among waves" and she understands each individual as alone but not solitary. Her water is again posited as a cleansing manifestation of nature, which comes in waves that roll up upon humanity and retreat again, leaving humanity scattered as they face their individual deaths, but united in the fact of mortality.
In her next hallucination, Miranda finds herself in a small green wood (like the woods of France), where she witnesses Adam repeatedly stricken dead by arrows, only to rise again, in a macabre cycle that echoes the pointlessness and repetitious horror of war. Once again, nature holds the key to this death. Next she imagines her fathers well bubbling over with water to staunch a poison brought to it by an image of a german soldier; nature (plague) is drowning out human violence with violence of its own. In her final hallucination, she sees "a landscape of sea and sand, of soft meadow and sky, freshly washed and glittering with transparencies of blue;" this pastoral dreamscape contains the faces of all people she has ever known, whose movements are connected with clouds and waves. She feels herself moving among these faces "as a wave among waves" and she understands each individual as alone but not solitary. Her water is again posited as a cleansing manifestation of nature, which comes in waves that roll up upon humanity and retreat again, leaving humanity scattered as they face their individual deaths, but united in the fact of mortality.
Attitudes Towards World War II
It was interesting to me that Miranda seemed more disgusted by the war effort at home than the war over seas. This is the only time that I have ever heard of anyone criticizing the war effort during World War II. Miranda was more critical of the Liberty Bond salesmen, the knitting of socks, and the dances arranged with soldiers on leave than she was of the futility of the war itself. All of my grandparents were about the same age as Miranda during World War II, and I guarantee that none of them ever shared any of the feelings that Miranda did towards the war. Obviously it was financially impossible for her to support the war financially by buying bonds, but it does not seem unreasonable to expect her to go along with all of the other fanfare involved in publicly supporting the soldiers and the war. Perhaps if she had been morally opposed to the war and had given more of a reason for her distaste of all things surrounding the war than her belief that it was a distraction from the real horrors of war it would have been easier for me to sympathize with her. However, I believe that it was necessary to make all of the Americans at home believe that they were directly involved in the war to distract them from the guilt and shame of sending other people to the front to die. I know that my grandmothers on each side of my family approached the rationing of sugar, the knitting of clothing, the buying of war bonds, and the other elements of the war effort at home with zeal and enthusiasm at the idea that they were aiding their husbands, brothers, cousins, and neighbors overseas. It is important to rememeber that while some of the things that Miranda opposed to may have been frivolous, World War II was a war that needed to be fought and the propaganda that surrounded it was necessary to keep the general population from experiencing the depression and cynicism that Miranda experienced.
Fiction as Autobiography
Austin brings up an excellent point in his blog: What does it matter if Miranda is the fictional version of Porter?
What matters is: Does it change our realtionship with the story?
I'd like to say no, because it shouldn't change our relationship with the story, but honestly, I think it does. Obviously, this is not a new phenomenon, as Porter dealt with it in her time, but in an era of post-modernism, self-referential essayists and the proliferation of memoirs, I think the natural tendency is to make that assumption.
I've noticed that a lot in English classes. When a classmate submits a story in which the narrator's gender isn't identified, nearly everyone makes the assumption that the narrator is the same gender as the author. When I read someone's story, unless I'm told otherwise, I make the assumption that the narrator is the same gender. That's short-sighted, yes, but I think it's natural for most people.
I've also noticed, in these classes, in myself and other fiction writers I know, that when someone submits a story with a protagonist at all similar to themselves, everyone assumes the story to be somewhat revealing or confessional. Ironically, as Austin pointed out, the same writers that submit these stories tend to make fun of that assumption, but at the same time do use their fiction as a way to work through their issues. At the very least, they do reveal a lot about themselves, whether or not they intended to.
So I think it's natural to read Porter's Miranda stories and make that assumption. Is it correct? Only Porter knows. Should it matter? It shouldn't. Ultimately, as Austin point out, even if it is autobiographical, so what? Is a fictional narrator the most trustworthy of sources? I doubt it.
If Miranda is Porter, that does reveal a lot about Porter, but the fact that we have this drive to make that connection reveals even more about us.
What matters is: Does it change our realtionship with the story?
I'd like to say no, because it shouldn't change our relationship with the story, but honestly, I think it does. Obviously, this is not a new phenomenon, as Porter dealt with it in her time, but in an era of post-modernism, self-referential essayists and the proliferation of memoirs, I think the natural tendency is to make that assumption.
I've noticed that a lot in English classes. When a classmate submits a story in which the narrator's gender isn't identified, nearly everyone makes the assumption that the narrator is the same gender as the author. When I read someone's story, unless I'm told otherwise, I make the assumption that the narrator is the same gender. That's short-sighted, yes, but I think it's natural for most people.
I've also noticed, in these classes, in myself and other fiction writers I know, that when someone submits a story with a protagonist at all similar to themselves, everyone assumes the story to be somewhat revealing or confessional. Ironically, as Austin pointed out, the same writers that submit these stories tend to make fun of that assumption, but at the same time do use their fiction as a way to work through their issues. At the very least, they do reveal a lot about themselves, whether or not they intended to.
So I think it's natural to read Porter's Miranda stories and make that assumption. Is it correct? Only Porter knows. Should it matter? It shouldn't. Ultimately, as Austin point out, even if it is autobiographical, so what? Is a fictional narrator the most trustworthy of sources? I doubt it.
If Miranda is Porter, that does reveal a lot about Porter, but the fact that we have this drive to make that connection reveals even more about us.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Miranda as Porter?
Porter left the Old South. Porter survived the flu epidemic. Porter reported on society. Porter worked in the Rocky Mountain region.
And so did Miranda.
And so what?
Dr. Cook mentioned in class that scholars think that Miranda is the closest to an autobiography we get to in Porter's fiction. While I'll admit that I always like to fantasize that something like the book I'm reading happened to the author, these suppositions seem to have little place in serious scholarship. Am I wrong?
There is an excellent interview with Margaret Atwood wherein the interviewer asks if The Handmaid's Tale was autobiographical. Atwood is livid. "How can it be autobiographical," she asks, "if it takes place in the future?"
Obviously the prosaic point doesn't hold up my argument, but I think the spirit of her response - spat venom - gives an idea of what it means for one author to have the "autobiography" question leveled at fiction. (Remember also the story of Porter freaking out at her friend for changing the names in a real event and pretending it a short story? KAP and JCO would not have gotten along.)
If Porter is Miranda, does that tell us something more about Porter or Miranda? (I would say Porter; she told us everything she wanted us to know about Miranda.) Given the sparse characterizations that I can't shut up about, what does that mean that Porter wants us to know about herself?
You can know her (fictionalized) family and you can know her sickness, her love life, her independence - but can you know her?
And so did Miranda.
And so what?
Dr. Cook mentioned in class that scholars think that Miranda is the closest to an autobiography we get to in Porter's fiction. While I'll admit that I always like to fantasize that something like the book I'm reading happened to the author, these suppositions seem to have little place in serious scholarship. Am I wrong?
There is an excellent interview with Margaret Atwood wherein the interviewer asks if The Handmaid's Tale was autobiographical. Atwood is livid. "How can it be autobiographical," she asks, "if it takes place in the future?"
Obviously the prosaic point doesn't hold up my argument, but I think the spirit of her response - spat venom - gives an idea of what it means for one author to have the "autobiography" question leveled at fiction. (Remember also the story of Porter freaking out at her friend for changing the names in a real event and pretending it a short story? KAP and JCO would not have gotten along.)
If Porter is Miranda, does that tell us something more about Porter or Miranda? (I would say Porter; she told us everything she wanted us to know about Miranda.) Given the sparse characterizations that I can't shut up about, what does that mean that Porter wants us to know about herself?
You can know her (fictionalized) family and you can know her sickness, her love life, her independence - but can you know her?
Pale Horse, Pale Rider-Gender Bending?
Building off what Daniel brought up, I too was struck by gender roles in this story, but I noticed many instances of what seemed to be Porter challenging gender roles. Gender, as we know from theory classes, can be understood as a social construct, and gender seems stressed in this story pretty blatantly. The structure of gender in the story is laid out very early on: men go to war and women stay home and knit and take care of injured soldiers, basically.
Miranda's femininity seems stressed by Porter. There are more than one reference to her touching up her make up and hair and putting on gloves (pgs. 275, 283). Miranda and Towney can only write such things as the society page or theater reviews for the paper while Chuck can only write about sports.
This is, presumably, the world Porter is living within, but she does not appear to merely accept it at face value. Chuck tells Miranda to "toughen up" at one point, but she is a woman and this would go against what women "should" be in this world. The disgruntled actor tells Miranda that he'd hit her if she were a man (pg. 289).
Chuck is the sports writer, as I have mentioned, but his dream is to write the theater column, and "didn't see why women always had the job" (pg. 287). As a man in this society, Chuck should naturally want to write about sports. Chuck gets his chance to write the theater column, but is quickly suppressed by society when the newspaper restricts him to the sports page (pg. 315).
This story blatantly lays out the binary opposition of nurse(female)/soldier(male) in its gender roles. Chuck makes some very misogynistic comments about Florence Nightingale and there being no place for women around the battlefield (pg. 287). In light of this comment, I found it very interesting that it is Adam that plays Florence Nightingale for Miranda when she is sick. It would perhaps have been less out of character to have Towney or the land lady come take care of her, but it is Adam, the big masculine soldier. The nurse/soldier gender roles are reversed cleverly here. Now I know what most of you hopeless romantics will say, and I do agree that it was very sweet and loving for him to do that, but especially with the Florence Nightingale reference, I read this as being more about the gender roles.
Anyone else notice these challenges to gender roles? Any other possible examples, and what, perhaps, might Porter be intending with this?
Emptiness in Pale Horse Pale Rider
The introduction of Pale Horse Pale Rider was great, but like the American people in World War II it lost its get-up and go. Despite the fact that I am kind of hating this story right now, I feel that the "fluff" [i.e. the romantic story (which is also empty because the death of Adam is foreshadowed several times) that fills a great deal of space and time between the introduction and the conclusion] reflects Miranda's feelings of emptiness and loss. This story reminds me of a somewhat less original version of Pride and Prejudice set in the 40's. For as great as Miranda's supposed love for Adam is, their relationship is incredibly empty and lacks true emotion because each party member knows that their situation is not permanent, whether or not they want it to be. Thus, the emptiness that prevails throughout the love story of Miranda and Adam reflects the empty feeling of the nation at that time. [At least I hope that is Porter's intent...or else this story is fairly blase if I do say so myself... : ) ]
NPR: Pale Horse....
You may listen to and read this broadcast on NPR by Alice McDermott, entitled "Why Libraries Should Stock Pale Horse, Pale Rider."
Website for WWI Posters: U.S.
Class: This site has an excellent collection of posters from World War I. It will give you a sense of Miranda's visual world in Pale Horse, Pale Rider.
Loss of the Body in PHPR
While reading PHPR I saw a very distinct similarity between Miranda’s thought process and Granny Weatherall’s thought process. Both characters become less aware of time, see people in the room almost float around them, and are almost in a delirious state “babbling nonsense”. In addition to this I found that Porter became focused on the disintegration of Miranda’s body. Here are some examples:
“The body is a curious monster, no place to live in” (313).
“[Miranda was] no longer aware of the members of her own body” (310).
“…she opened her eyes and saw pale light through a course white cloth over her face, knew that the smell of death was her own body, and struggled to lift her hand” (312).
I wonder why Porter chooses to focus on the loss of Miranda’s bodily functions. I think this work relates to some of Flannery O’Conner’s works which also focus on this loss.
“The body is a curious monster, no place to live in” (313).
“[Miranda was] no longer aware of the members of her own body” (310).
“…she opened her eyes and saw pale light through a course white cloth over her face, knew that the smell of death was her own body, and struggled to lift her hand” (312).
I wonder why Porter chooses to focus on the loss of Miranda’s bodily functions. I think this work relates to some of Flannery O’Conner’s works which also focus on this loss.
Porter the Woman writer
I think what Michelle says about the short story having a romance aspect goes along with what was mentioned in class about Porter writing like a women (whereas Flannery writes more like a man). While reading the story, I could not help but think how whiny and overly romantic the writing and focus of the piece is. Porter emphasizes Miranda's yearning to be with Adam outside of the time and place of the war. Miranda is always fretting about getting to see Adam and worries a lot about how she looks. The themes actually reminded me a lot of Hemingway's story, A Farewell to Arms. I especially find the relationship of Miranda and Adam similar to the relationship between Henry and Catherine. Of course, the main difference would be in the style of writing, however both women are portrayed as semi-whiny and weak (at least to me). What do you guys think?
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Pale Horse Pale Rider
I think I am starting to understand the whole ex-patriot thing. This story helped me understand how hard times were back during WWI.
The part that I was most interested in with this story was the romance aspect of it all. I thought this whirl wind romance with a soldier was nicely weaved in with everything else going on in Miranda's life. I thought this was one of the more romantic things that I have read in awhile (maybe I just need a boyfriend or something). For a man to hold a bucket while a woman throws up in it is possibly one of the sweetest things that I have read ["Do excuse me" (Porter 300)]. Then to still pat her and tell her he loves her, "He lay down beside her with his arm under her shoulder, and pressed his smooth face against hers, his mouth moved towards her mouth and stopped. 'Can you hear what I am saying?...What do you think I have been trying to tell you all this time?" It almost made me cry it was so sweet (I'm sorry, I'm a softy). Unfortunately, I wondered if it was real. In this scene I questioned whether Adam was really even there. This whole scene seemed so dreamlike to me, and Miranda was so sick that she was hallucinatory, that I questioned if it really happened or not. I also found it a little odd (and kind of scary) that she was taken away while he was (or she thought he was) down the street picking up more ice and coffee. It does make sense that he would be in this scene since he ends up dying of influenza. But was he really in this scene? Why didn't he barge his way into the hospital instead of just leaving a note? Did he die because he caught influenza from her? Why isn't she more upset when she finds out that he dies? Is she just resigned about the whole thing? I also thought it was interesting that there is a scene like this where the manly soldier rescues the woman in a story about a woman who is supporting herself and working during war times.
On another note (ha, no pun intended), the lyrics to Pale Horse and his Rider are at this website, I think this is the song that is referenced in the story, but I am not sure (why would the title be different?): http://www.metrolyrics.com/the-pale-horse-his-rider-lyrics-hank-williams.html
The part that I was most interested in with this story was the romance aspect of it all. I thought this whirl wind romance with a soldier was nicely weaved in with everything else going on in Miranda's life. I thought this was one of the more romantic things that I have read in awhile (maybe I just need a boyfriend or something). For a man to hold a bucket while a woman throws up in it is possibly one of the sweetest things that I have read ["Do excuse me" (Porter 300)]. Then to still pat her and tell her he loves her, "He lay down beside her with his arm under her shoulder, and pressed his smooth face against hers, his mouth moved towards her mouth and stopped. 'Can you hear what I am saying?...What do you think I have been trying to tell you all this time?" It almost made me cry it was so sweet (I'm sorry, I'm a softy). Unfortunately, I wondered if it was real. In this scene I questioned whether Adam was really even there. This whole scene seemed so dreamlike to me, and Miranda was so sick that she was hallucinatory, that I questioned if it really happened or not. I also found it a little odd (and kind of scary) that she was taken away while he was (or she thought he was) down the street picking up more ice and coffee. It does make sense that he would be in this scene since he ends up dying of influenza. But was he really in this scene? Why didn't he barge his way into the hospital instead of just leaving a note? Did he die because he caught influenza from her? Why isn't she more upset when she finds out that he dies? Is she just resigned about the whole thing? I also thought it was interesting that there is a scene like this where the manly soldier rescues the woman in a story about a woman who is supporting herself and working during war times.
On another note (ha, no pun intended), the lyrics to Pale Horse and his Rider are at this website, I think this is the song that is referenced in the story, but I am not sure (why would the title be different?): http://www.metrolyrics.com/the-pale-horse-his-rider-lyrics-hank-williams.html
Pale Horse Pale Rider
As far as imagery goes, the idea of the dream state that Porter evokes in "Pale Hose Pale Rider" is different than so many of her other stories. She has done a beautiful job in many of her works by exploring self worth, social constructs, and what it is to be polite. But here there is an exploration of reality. I am not sure weather this is coming from the idea of story and truth, or identity through family, but either way her writing style in PHPR evokes a different image than her previous works. Even the title makes me think of a strange, indistinguishable movement, where you don't know where the rider ends and the horse begins. In this fantastical creature Porter might be referring to the story being indistinguishable from the writer. Seeing as how this was to be incorporated into her most autobiographical work, it seems fitting for her to explore the idea of where her writing ends and her personal story begins.
Community vs. the Atomized Individual: Trajectory of the 3 Novel volume
In the three novels of the Pale Horse, Pale Rider volume, "Old Mortality," "Noon Wine," and "Pale Horse, Pale Rider," I would like to propose that there is a trajectory from a deeply communal aesthetic, broken by a loss of innocence and an act of violence, and moving into an aesthetic of the highly atomized individual.
In terms of basic plot, "Old Mortality" expresses a deep sense of community: the plot concerns the legends and fates of a family, rather than individuals. Even Amy, who is clearly attempting to assert her individuality, is always discussed in terms of her relation to her family members: they admire her, they disapprove of her, etc. The two girls are woven into the family legend as an incorporated audience, as they compare their beauty to the beauties of the family. Even in terms of narrative technique, individual voices are conspicuously absent when Amy's story begins. Her legend seems to come from a generalized, collective family consciousness. Much of Amy's actual story (the ball, etc) seems to come from a singular, observing narrator, and only occasionally do individual voices add their supporting comments. In the third part of the story, of course, voices forcefully demand individual identity: Eva subverts the family legend, and Miranda determines to escape it altogether.
Moving into "Noon Wine," the narration is similar: as readers, we have the same distance from Mr. Thompson and we do from Mrs. Thompson. Descriptions of Mr. Helton at the dinner table suggest that Mr. and Mrs. Thompson are basically observing the same person, and sharing the same experience. However, after Mr. Thompson kills Mr. Hatch, the sense of perspective is narrowed. We either get Mrs. Thompson's internal thoughts, or Mr. Thompson's internal thoughts. There is an abrupt and disturbing sense of sudden alienation: They are no longer members of a family, but rather atomized and isolated individuals who no longer share the same opinions, experiences, instincts, etc.
Then, in "Pale Horse, Pale Rider," the atomization of the individual reaches its logical conclusion. Miranda is totally alienated from those around her, and experiences life as a lonely, singular consciousness, rather than as an incorporated victim of family legend (perhaps Porter wants to know which is worse?). First, she has an intense, internal dialogue when faced with the aggressive bonds salesmen--the ultimate result of war, in this case, is that one is never allowed to say what one thinks. One must remain impassive and keep emotions and opinions securely interior: in short, one must become an atom.
A prime example of this atomization is a conversation Miranda has with a girl in the hospital ward: the girl admits she doesn't really like delivering candy and cigarettes to wounded veterans. Miranda replies that she "hates it." The girl responds "cautiously," saying "I suppose it's all right, though." Then Miranda "turns cautious also," with a guarded "Perhaps."
Even with close friends, Miranda remains guarded and trapped inside the profound isolation of enforced patriotism. She ventures to tell Chuck, "I wish it were over and I wish it had never begun," but she is still checked by doubts: "What she had said seemed safe enough but how would he take it?" (290). In the family community of "Old Mortality," the characters were at least united by threads of common thought--by a collective legend to which they all contributed (for better or for worse). In "Pale Horse," the common legend is being forced upon society: none of the isolated individuals in the community are contributing their share of the story.
In contrast, Miranda barely even seems to know what Adam has on his mind, and, in the theater, Miranda looks a Chuck and "for the first time since she had known him she wondered what Chuck was thinking about."
This profound alienation, atomization, isolation (whatever you want to call it) can be read as a product of the war, a product of (presumably) Miranda's maturation, or a general indication of the times. But historically, the move from communal traditions and collective identity to the individuated, atomization of modernist society can be marked using WWI as the breaking point. In that respect, I think the sense of community in "Old Mortality" can be read as an expression of pre-war communal sensibilities. The act of violence in "Noon Wine" parallels society's fall from innocence during WWI. Then, "Pale Horse, Pale Rider" expresses the fears and isolations of the alienated individual looking into the disillusionment of the post-war future.
It isn't necessary to read these three novels from this frame--certainly, I don't think it takes anything away from them as individual pieces if you don't buy my historicist suggestion. But I do think the movement and structure of the collected volume probably has signficance that merits consideration. I think we should assume that Porter put as much thought into the order of novels in the collection as she put into the order of words in a sentence.
Thoughts? More articulate support or opposition than I seem to be able to come up with this afternoon?
In terms of basic plot, "Old Mortality" expresses a deep sense of community: the plot concerns the legends and fates of a family, rather than individuals. Even Amy, who is clearly attempting to assert her individuality, is always discussed in terms of her relation to her family members: they admire her, they disapprove of her, etc. The two girls are woven into the family legend as an incorporated audience, as they compare their beauty to the beauties of the family. Even in terms of narrative technique, individual voices are conspicuously absent when Amy's story begins. Her legend seems to come from a generalized, collective family consciousness. Much of Amy's actual story (the ball, etc) seems to come from a singular, observing narrator, and only occasionally do individual voices add their supporting comments. In the third part of the story, of course, voices forcefully demand individual identity: Eva subverts the family legend, and Miranda determines to escape it altogether.
Moving into "Noon Wine," the narration is similar: as readers, we have the same distance from Mr. Thompson and we do from Mrs. Thompson. Descriptions of Mr. Helton at the dinner table suggest that Mr. and Mrs. Thompson are basically observing the same person, and sharing the same experience. However, after Mr. Thompson kills Mr. Hatch, the sense of perspective is narrowed. We either get Mrs. Thompson's internal thoughts, or Mr. Thompson's internal thoughts. There is an abrupt and disturbing sense of sudden alienation: They are no longer members of a family, but rather atomized and isolated individuals who no longer share the same opinions, experiences, instincts, etc.
Then, in "Pale Horse, Pale Rider," the atomization of the individual reaches its logical conclusion. Miranda is totally alienated from those around her, and experiences life as a lonely, singular consciousness, rather than as an incorporated victim of family legend (perhaps Porter wants to know which is worse?). First, she has an intense, internal dialogue when faced with the aggressive bonds salesmen--the ultimate result of war, in this case, is that one is never allowed to say what one thinks. One must remain impassive and keep emotions and opinions securely interior: in short, one must become an atom.
A prime example of this atomization is a conversation Miranda has with a girl in the hospital ward: the girl admits she doesn't really like delivering candy and cigarettes to wounded veterans. Miranda replies that she "hates it." The girl responds "cautiously," saying "I suppose it's all right, though." Then Miranda "turns cautious also," with a guarded "Perhaps."
Even with close friends, Miranda remains guarded and trapped inside the profound isolation of enforced patriotism. She ventures to tell Chuck, "I wish it were over and I wish it had never begun," but she is still checked by doubts: "What she had said seemed safe enough but how would he take it?" (290). In the family community of "Old Mortality," the characters were at least united by threads of common thought--by a collective legend to which they all contributed (for better or for worse). In "Pale Horse," the common legend is being forced upon society: none of the isolated individuals in the community are contributing their share of the story.
In contrast, Miranda barely even seems to know what Adam has on his mind, and, in the theater, Miranda looks a Chuck and "for the first time since she had known him she wondered what Chuck was thinking about."
This profound alienation, atomization, isolation (whatever you want to call it) can be read as a product of the war, a product of (presumably) Miranda's maturation, or a general indication of the times. But historically, the move from communal traditions and collective identity to the individuated, atomization of modernist society can be marked using WWI as the breaking point. In that respect, I think the sense of community in "Old Mortality" can be read as an expression of pre-war communal sensibilities. The act of violence in "Noon Wine" parallels society's fall from innocence during WWI. Then, "Pale Horse, Pale Rider" expresses the fears and isolations of the alienated individual looking into the disillusionment of the post-war future.
It isn't necessary to read these three novels from this frame--certainly, I don't think it takes anything away from them as individual pieces if you don't buy my historicist suggestion. But I do think the movement and structure of the collected volume probably has signficance that merits consideration. I think we should assume that Porter put as much thought into the order of novels in the collection as she put into the order of words in a sentence.
Thoughts? More articulate support or opposition than I seem to be able to come up with this afternoon?
Foreshadowing In "Pale Horse, Pale Rider"
After reader “Pale Horse, Pale Rider” I tried to find the Bible verse containing the ‘Pale Horse” reference. This text can be found in The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse in the Book of Revelation. Time rides upon the White horse; War rides upon the Red horse; Famine rides upon the Black horse and Death rides upon the Pale horse. According to this story the four horsemen are named after the dangers that they embody and carry with them; they represent the forces of man’s destruction.
Revelation 6:8 “I looked, and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him. They were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword, famine and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth.”
According to the Bible the pale horse signifies death and widespread devastation, which in the case of this short story seems to be the influenza epidemic. Death would be the appropriate rider for this horse given what it brings forth. After knowing the significance of this passage from the Bible it is easy to notice the foreshadowing presented by Porter in the beginning of the story. In Miranda’s dream she mentions a “lank greenish stranger” which gives the impression of a very sick and weak person (Porter 269). She then chooses to ride Graylie, a horse whose name implies that its color is gray or even pale. Miranda then acknowledges that the stranger is Death because she say’s, “Come now, Graylie, … we must outrun Death and the Devil” (Porter 270). The stranger’s horse was also gray, which further proves that this horse and rider in her dream are death and the pale horse referred to in the Bible. She tries to outrun Death on her own gray horse, which she eventually does because by the end of the story she has survived the epidemic.
Revelation 6:8 “I looked, and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him. They were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword, famine and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth.”
According to the Bible the pale horse signifies death and widespread devastation, which in the case of this short story seems to be the influenza epidemic. Death would be the appropriate rider for this horse given what it brings forth. After knowing the significance of this passage from the Bible it is easy to notice the foreshadowing presented by Porter in the beginning of the story. In Miranda’s dream she mentions a “lank greenish stranger” which gives the impression of a very sick and weak person (Porter 269). She then chooses to ride Graylie, a horse whose name implies that its color is gray or even pale. Miranda then acknowledges that the stranger is Death because she say’s, “Come now, Graylie, … we must outrun Death and the Devil” (Porter 270). The stranger’s horse was also gray, which further proves that this horse and rider in her dream are death and the pale horse referred to in the Bible. She tries to outrun Death on her own gray horse, which she eventually does because by the end of the story she has survived the epidemic.
Happiness in PHPR
In a sense, PHPR for me has been refreshing so far. As mentioned in class, before we started with Porter again, I feel like I needed a break from O'Connor. I felt as though the image of Miranda and Adam's relationship was separated from the rest of the text. When I was visualizing their playtime, escaping from the realities of the war, it seemed like a new chapter, and a new emotion being portrayed. I think this was the most refreshing part for me about PHPR...we rarely get to see Porter or O'Connor's characters enjoying themselves the way Miranda and Adam did in each others' presenses. Of course it wasn't picture perfect, since Miranda is revealing signs of her illness, but this one section of the text sucked me in, hoping for something other than abandonment, death, or depression.
Feminism/Pacifism: Pale Horse Pale Rider
One of the more interesting aspects of this story, for me, is the connection Porter draws between women and pacifism, as well as men and nationalism. In the sections leading up to her disease, Miranda's thoughts repeatedly iterate her reservations about the American war effort, and her revulsion towards war itself. Miranda's job in the press exposes her to the details of war-mongering and propaganda first hand, which she views with internal disgust but external complacency, out of a fear, which is mentioned several times, of the consequences of open objection to the war. Miranda encounters liberty-bonds salesmen who feed on xenophobia and war-fever to make money, threatening peoples jobs and making monetary support of violence a condition of good-citizenship. She does her supposed "woman-on-the-home-front" duties, stopping by at soldier's hospitals and going to military dances, but always with a certain uneasiness as to the value/morality of what she is doing, which is only shared with female acquaintances. Towney and a volunteer red-cross nurse express reservations similar to Miranda's in private, but, like Miranda, practice public complacency and support. These objections are indeed only private, but they are living in a nation caught in a patriotic/nationalist fervor, wherein disagreement quickly becomes treason and silent objection can become imprisonment.
On the other hand, the men in the story, even those in no way connected to the war effort (chuck/bill), are never shown by Porter to hold any sort of reservation about the basic necessity of war, even in as much as they might mock the propaganda and machinations behind it. Adam, who is portrayed in a very sympathetic light, is shown to at least hold some disdain for war, when prompted by Miranda, but never openly questions its existence or need. Chuck, who cannot go to war, expresses a similar comic disdain but still says it is right that soldier's "perish where they fall." The only male, and in fact the only character, that seems to be not at all concerned with the war is the playwright who comes to challenge Miranda at her office.
Anyways, I'm losing hold of what my point is so I'll just stop here. If anyone would like to contribute please do
On the other hand, the men in the story, even those in no way connected to the war effort (chuck/bill), are never shown by Porter to hold any sort of reservation about the basic necessity of war, even in as much as they might mock the propaganda and machinations behind it. Adam, who is portrayed in a very sympathetic light, is shown to at least hold some disdain for war, when prompted by Miranda, but never openly questions its existence or need. Chuck, who cannot go to war, expresses a similar comic disdain but still says it is right that soldier's "perish where they fall." The only male, and in fact the only character, that seems to be not at all concerned with the war is the playwright who comes to challenge Miranda at her office.
Anyways, I'm losing hold of what my point is so I'll just stop here. If anyone would like to contribute please do
Reply to Austin's post on the Mirandas
I totally connected the two Mirandas as the same person. Maybe they weren't but I saw PHPR as a continuation of where Miranda's story left off in OM.
I think what did it for me was the "running away" on the horse. Even though it's just a dream in PHPR, could it be a dream that is remembering the past? Like, reliving events that she went through. It also states in the beginning that she has nothing of her own, except nothing, and that was enough. I connected this with OM in that Miranda is living through the tales of her family. Both Miranda's are writers (if I recall correctly) - one is a journalist and one is prose (I think). They are both educated, which could go along the lines of continuing the story.
We can also take these stories separately, which could make the two Miranda's different, or, going off with Austin's namesake theory. But why would Porter give them the same name? Is it similar to O'Connor giving her characters the same name in a single story? Obviously, they are supposed to be connected, the degree is what is in question. Myself - I saw them as the same, and PHPR as a sequel or something.
I could be completely wrong though because we are left not seeing certain important parts of their character in each story that the other story fills in. For instance, we get a general personality and who Miranda acts with others (and loves) while we only see Miranda as she thinks about her family in OM.
Both stories center around death too, and some sort of romantic love is involved. In OM, it is Amy who suffers and dies without truly being in love. In PHPR, Miranda finds love only to lose it and so she learns that it doesn't matter how much you fight to live, there will always be death. She ends up not really seeing the difference in life or death anymore... which maybe that was Amy's conclusion?
I think what did it for me was the "running away" on the horse. Even though it's just a dream in PHPR, could it be a dream that is remembering the past? Like, reliving events that she went through. It also states in the beginning that she has nothing of her own, except nothing, and that was enough. I connected this with OM in that Miranda is living through the tales of her family. Both Miranda's are writers (if I recall correctly) - one is a journalist and one is prose (I think). They are both educated, which could go along the lines of continuing the story.
We can also take these stories separately, which could make the two Miranda's different, or, going off with Austin's namesake theory. But why would Porter give them the same name? Is it similar to O'Connor giving her characters the same name in a single story? Obviously, they are supposed to be connected, the degree is what is in question. Myself - I saw them as the same, and PHPR as a sequel or something.
I could be completely wrong though because we are left not seeing certain important parts of their character in each story that the other story fills in. For instance, we get a general personality and who Miranda acts with others (and loves) while we only see Miranda as she thinks about her family in OM.
Both stories center around death too, and some sort of romantic love is involved. In OM, it is Amy who suffers and dies without truly being in love. In PHPR, Miranda finds love only to lose it and so she learns that it doesn't matter how much you fight to live, there will always be death. She ends up not really seeing the difference in life or death anymore... which maybe that was Amy's conclusion?
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Stories about Mirandas
After reading the first half of "Pale Horse, Pale Rider" (Pale Horse, Pale Rider?), I'm not having a problem considering this and "Old Mortality" the Miranda stories, but I am certainly wondering - are these the same Mirandas?
Sarah pointed out in class that "Old Mortality" presented some more of Porter's eclipsed characters. We heard a lot about Amy, but nothing from Amy herself. We seemed to be following the story of Miranda, but only in glimpses until Part III, where she was the center of the action.
Given all of the exposition that Miranda's family receives in "Old Mortality", it seems odd that the characters we grew to "know" (I use the term loosely; you think you know a person . . . ) aren't referenced at all. Not even in passing. The only real reference I could find was the horse in the dream, Miss Lucy, which is what Amy named her horse, and what Gabriel names the following three horses he owns.
Is the Miss Lucy that Miranda dreams about her past echoing in her subconscious? Or is she - like the new Amy, like dream-Miss Lucy (in a long line of Miss Lucies) - just another namesake?
(If PRPH-Miranda is just a namesake, does that make her a living memorial of OM-Miranda? a new Miranda, who will suffer the same trajectory but a different fate? Porter's idea of a hilarious coincidence?)
I don't think Porter made the two Mirandas totally unconnected. Is the disparity between the Miranda of 1912 and the Miranda of 1918 (an assumed date; "Old Mortality" gives us clear settings, and I am guessing that given Miranda's age in 1912 (18), Miranda's age in PRPH (24), and the events of WWI it is 1917 or 18; the chronology matches up more or less) evidence of real change in a character who has had time to mature? Perhaps it is a thumbing of the nose at the narrator of "Old Mortality," who closes the story skeptical of whether or not Miranda can truly sever herself from her past?
I'd love to get thoughts on whether or not they are the same character; perhaps there is another reference to OM Miranda in PRPH that I missed, or a more convincing argument for them being completely different people.
Sarah pointed out in class that "Old Mortality" presented some more of Porter's eclipsed characters. We heard a lot about Amy, but nothing from Amy herself. We seemed to be following the story of Miranda, but only in glimpses until Part III, where she was the center of the action.
Given all of the exposition that Miranda's family receives in "Old Mortality", it seems odd that the characters we grew to "know" (I use the term loosely; you think you know a person . . . ) aren't referenced at all. Not even in passing. The only real reference I could find was the horse in the dream, Miss Lucy, which is what Amy named her horse, and what Gabriel names the following three horses he owns.
Is the Miss Lucy that Miranda dreams about her past echoing in her subconscious? Or is she - like the new Amy, like dream-Miss Lucy (in a long line of Miss Lucies) - just another namesake?
(If PRPH-Miranda is just a namesake, does that make her a living memorial of OM-Miranda? a new Miranda, who will suffer the same trajectory but a different fate? Porter's idea of a hilarious coincidence?)
I don't think Porter made the two Mirandas totally unconnected. Is the disparity between the Miranda of 1912 and the Miranda of 1918 (an assumed date; "Old Mortality" gives us clear settings, and I am guessing that given Miranda's age in 1912 (18), Miranda's age in PRPH (24), and the events of WWI it is 1917 or 18; the chronology matches up more or less) evidence of real change in a character who has had time to mature? Perhaps it is a thumbing of the nose at the narrator of "Old Mortality," who closes the story skeptical of whether or not Miranda can truly sever herself from her past?
I'd love to get thoughts on whether or not they are the same character; perhaps there is another reference to OM Miranda in PRPH that I missed, or a more convincing argument for them being completely different people.
Old Mortality and Ideal Beauty
Because I found this story so intriguing, I wanted to take the time and post--even if it's a little late--my thoughts about the ideal beauty? Miranda believes a "beauty" must be tall with dark hair, smooth pale skin, beautiful teeth and hands. She must be light and swift, but more than anything a beauty must posses "some mysterious crown of enchantment that attracted and held the heart" (176). How, really can you define the last statement? Who declares which lady is enchanting and which lady isn't? Men, seem, to define who is beautiful in society. Miranda's father, for instance, claims "there were never any fat women in the family, thank God" (174). Evidently, according to men, fat women are not only less than beautiful, they are less than family. He furthermore, defined how his own daughters should look holding them on his knee only if they were "prettily dressed and well behaved" but sending them away in a disgusted manner if they fell short of his expectations of what defined nice looking young ladies. Moreover, Amy's father also dominated what she should live up to in terms of ladyness.When dressed for the ball, her father commanded her to change because no daughter should "show herself in such a rig-out. It's bawdy" (185). In other cases, however, she ignored her father, and depended on her brothers' advice on her appearance. Eager to seek their approval-- most likely because they knew what was stylish in their current generation--Amy would change had "they found fault in any way" (183). Surprisingly, Amy cared not at all what Gabriel thought of her beauty, even cutting her hair after he complimented it. Amy's refusal to be swayed by the opinion of men made me consider that perhaps the men are not the ones to define beauty, they just merely support the definition. In class I made the claim that it is women who actually suppress other women by creating the ideal beauty. I support this argument with the example of Eva and her mother. Her mother joked about her ugliness and how she would never threaten her youth by making her a grandmother, making her "blush as if she had been slapped" (178). While her mother wore elegant dresses, Eva wore hand-me-downs altered to fit her size. Eva is described as almost horse-like with a face,"chinless, straining her upper lip over two enormous teeth" (178). At dances where her mother was absent, "Eva bloomed out a little, danced prettily, and smiled" (178). The narrator implies that it was her mother that truly prevented Eva from feeling beautiful, accepted, and an adequate female in society. However, her mother marked her as ugly and "chinless"so her family followed in suit. In some ways, I believe Eva's inner bitterness stemmed from her family who "bedeviled her about her chine" and she succumbed to the psychological notion of "self fulfilling prophesy" where she transformed into what others expected her to be: a homely old maid.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Horse talk in Old Mortality
I think that the horse theme in Old Mortality is interesting. It seems to be an underlying theme that connects many of the characters. There is a lot of mention of riding, jockeying, hunting, running away via horse, and so forth. It seems to connect Amy and Miranda a little too, because Miranda at one point wanted to be a jockey.
The place that I guess I was most repulsed by was the scene where Harry takes the girls to the track and they meet Gabriel. All at once their fantasized views of him were washed away and he was revealed for what he was. But what grossed me out was his obsession with Amy. I don't want to knock true love, but they were only married for 6 weeks and he is riding "her" horses - horses names after hers. And he's killing them by doing it! I don't know what to think of that part, because he obviously thinks that by riding her horses to death honors his dead wife. I don't blame Miranda for not wanting to be a jockey anymore after seeing such a sad scene...
The place that I guess I was most repulsed by was the scene where Harry takes the girls to the track and they meet Gabriel. All at once their fantasized views of him were washed away and he was revealed for what he was. But what grossed me out was his obsession with Amy. I don't want to knock true love, but they were only married for 6 weeks and he is riding "her" horses - horses names after hers. And he's killing them by doing it! I don't know what to think of that part, because he obviously thinks that by riding her horses to death honors his dead wife. I don't blame Miranda for not wanting to be a jockey anymore after seeing such a sad scene...
Old Mortality
Personally, I had a hard time reading this story because it reminded me so much of my own family. (This is probably not a unique experience at all...I'm sure at least a few other people were reminded of family legends!) I was struck, though, by the balance between the male and female voices in this piece. The main energy of the male voices come from Gabriel, the father, and Harry, the brother. All of them are concerned with how Amy appears to the world: Gabriel wants to be with the belle of the ball, the father is concerned that she displays herself too much, and Harry is concerned that she attracts too much attention at the ball. Harry and the father are in a position to claim some kind of possession over the honor and sexuality of a female relative, and Gabriel wants to protect the virtue of his future investment. Their repetition of family legends cement and protect Amy's use-value as such an object, if nothing else. In contrast, Eva, who has no claim to Amy's use-value, undermines the legend by suggesting that Amy forsook a pregnancy (female use-value in the most literal, physical sense). In an earlier response, I mentioned that Amy is the victim of the panoptic, patriarchial family circle--her brother and Gabriel do not object to immodest clothing, as long as she stays where they can see her. But the minute she leaves the dance floor with another man, her absense becomes transgressive and they take action to bring her back under their panoptic gaze. But wasn't Eva also in a kind of panoptic prison? Wasn't she also watched with as much energy for her lack of Amy's attributes? Eva's vocal energy in Part III interests me because she, as Amy's shadowy double, is the one to survive the panoptic circle and to speak outside of it. (Also, considering Harry and Gabriel's roles in an observing patriarchy, I found it telling that the grandmother speaks so little. For the most part, she sheds silent tears over artifacts. )
Miranda the tight-rope walker?
I was interested in Miranda’s inability to pick a profession. As a girl she wants to be a jockey, and then a tight-rope walker, and as a young adult she wants to be an air-pilot. Miranda, it seems, has always been running away from conventions for women, much like Amy. Both women seem to be avoiding conventional roles (mother, caretaker, ect…). Amy avoids marriage, and wishes that instead of a husband she would rather have a dancing companion for the rest of her years. Miranda avoids traditional female jobs, and when she does marry, she does not consider it to be a life-long partnership. Both women prefer to be independent. What do you guys think of this parallel between the two girls?
Guilt and Violence
In Porter's "Noon Wine" the guilt that Mr. Thompson feels due to killing Mr. Hatch overcomes him and turns into violence. Thompson kills himself with a shotgun which is a very brutal way to commit suicide. It seemed to me that Hatch and Mr. Thompson's hallucination of Helton being killed were both very violent ways to die unlike just shooting someone. But rather killing someone with and axe or stabbing them in the stomach have a hanus ideal behind them. Also with Thompson's guilt, I am not convince that he necessarily feels guilt so much as he feels ashamed he tries everything to prove his innocence but if it was guilt wouldn't it be easier to admit he was wrong in killing Hatch rather than try to prove his innocence even in his suicide note he is still tryinging to prove he is innocent.
Old Mortality
Going along with the two previous posts, I thought the representation of hair in this story was interesting and might figure into the discussion of feminism. I know that talking about how hair represents femininity has probably come up in other English classes, and might be a little played out, but it was mentioned so many times in this story that I thought it deserved a little attention in the blog. I thought the scene which has been mentioned, where Amy cuts her hair after Gabriel compliments it, is an important scene. To me, this showed how the women wanted to be feminists (cutting off their long "feminine" hair that represents all sorts of feminine stereotypes) and making it short, but then they didn't really act as feminists (I guess depending on the definition one uses for "feminist").
Another thing I wanted to comment on was some of the misunderstandings in the story, like when cousin Eva is talking to Miranda, "Cousin Eva, my father shot at him, don't you remember? He didn't hit him...." (Porter 212). I think misunderstandings like this happen a lot in real life families, where someone remembers events differently than other family members, but you don't see misunderstandings too often in stories unless it is very intentional. This misunderstanding is interesting to me, because throughout the story I wondered why they started the story with the picture of Amy and what was going to come of that story. I think this scene is very important because so much of the first part of the story is their family history, and then we get this scene which really breaks down a lot of their understood family history. I think this scene is also important, because if Miranda had known the full truth about her family, I wonder if she would have turned out the same way, and if her story would have taken the same path as it did.
Another thing I wanted to comment on was some of the misunderstandings in the story, like when cousin Eva is talking to Miranda, "Cousin Eva, my father shot at him, don't you remember? He didn't hit him...." (Porter 212). I think misunderstandings like this happen a lot in real life families, where someone remembers events differently than other family members, but you don't see misunderstandings too often in stories unless it is very intentional. This misunderstanding is interesting to me, because throughout the story I wondered why they started the story with the picture of Amy and what was going to come of that story. I think this scene is very important because so much of the first part of the story is their family history, and then we get this scene which really breaks down a lot of their understood family history. I think this scene is also important, because if Miranda had known the full truth about her family, I wonder if she would have turned out the same way, and if her story would have taken the same path as it did.
The Epistemology of Reputation in "Old Mortality"
Porter seems to be calling to the forefront the unreliability of reputation in "Old Mortality." The story opens with a photograph of Aunt Amy, but its accuracy in representing her is almost instantly called into question by Miranda's father, Harry. "'Her hair and her smile were her chief beauties, and they aren't show at all. She was much slimmer than that, too.'" (174) And then Harry's account of Amy is called into question by Cousin Eva in Part III, when she says that Amy "'was too thin when she was young, and later I always thought she was too fat, and again in her last year she was altogether too thin.'" (214-15) What are we, the readers, supposed to make of this elusive portrait?
Temper that response with what Miss Honey must think of Amy, when her husband brings Maria and Miranda over to demonstrate that the "'[b]oth of 'em rolled into one look a lot like Amy,'" (200), and with the feeling of Eva that the relationship between gabriel and Amy was "'a kind of lifelong infidelity . . . and now an enternal infidelity on top of that.'" (211) To Miss Honey, the quarrel is not was Amy beautiful, was she slim - she is constructed as entirely something else, as the other woman, even in death.
Reputations are constructed - but upon what? Consider the grandmother who, "twice a year compelled i her blood by the change of seasons, would sit nearly all of one day beside old trunks and boxes in the lumber room, unfolding layers of garments and small keepsakes "; Miranda and Maria "examined the objects, one by one, and did not find them, in themselves, impressive." (175) These little pockets of meaning for the grandmother, the combs and locks and feathers and flowers, are meaningless to the younger generation without some kind of exposition to understand them. Instead of sad souvenirs, artifacts of the past, they are tacky anachronisms, like fish out of water: they are "dowdy," "moth-eaten," "clumsy," "silly-looking," "yellowed," "faded," "misshapen," "cracking," and a host of other words that mean out of place and time (175).
So are reputations constructed on nothing? Several artifacts included or referenced directly in the narrative can surely establish the character of, or at least credible witness to, a person. The photograph of Aunt Amy is first and foremost - but Harry discounts its credibility. There are two letters near the end of Part I. The first is from Amy, and we find that she constructs herself within the letter - she is fond of frippery and horses, keen on scandal, and adoring of her mother. There is little insight to be gained from this letter except how Amy sees herself, or how she expects others to see her. The second letter is from Amy's nurse, and it hints to the suicide that Eva alludes to in Part III. It amounts to only another third person account of a character. (Is that a reflection of the narrative?)
The last artifact is Miranda's mother's diary. When Eva goes off on a diatribe about sex-obsession, Miranda defends her mother on habits that she hopes construct her character - cooking, sewing - and a personal record, Mariana's diary, which Miranda has read. Eva says, "'Your mother was a saint,'" - she is constructing a reputation - and Miranda is outraged, and so constructs a reputation of her own. "'My mother was nothing of the sort" (217).
So even personal testaments, such as letters or journals, cannot be trusted to be evaluated objectively - they are simply more supporting evidence in the inevitably subjective construction of a reputation.
What a flimsy construction! "Old Mortality" seems to say. Miranda's father "had a disconcerting way of inquiring, "How do you know?" when they forgot and made dogmatic statements in his presence. It always came out embarrassingly that they did not know at all" (184). Although every character is guilty of retelling someone else's story to fit their own motives, including Harry, each interpretation of another's life is equally as valid - provided that it is a qualified statement, open to common reinterpretation. Harry and Cousin Eva talk in the back of the car about "common memories, interrupting each other, catching each other up on small points of dispute" (220), leaving reputation open to interpretation long after the events that it is constructed from have transpired.
This reading is why the closing of the story struck me as so sad. Miranda sulks in the front seat, thinking, "I won't be romantic about myself. I can't live in their world any longer . . . Let them tell their stories to each other. Let them go on explaining how things happened. I don't care. At least I can know the truth about what happens to me" (221). The narrator lets on to the foolishness of this promise, calling it ignorance - for even as Miranda prepares to leave her vast, intersecting family and their stories for each other about each other, she will live on in their memories. In every letter they receive from her she will have constructed a self to be remembered by, to be reread later by a different generation as she read Amy's and so reinterpreted. Her exploits will live on at home despite the fact that she won't be there; Cousin Eva remembers that Miranda was "planning to be a tight rope walker . . . going to play the violin and walk the tight rope at the same time." (207) This brief snippet of a story serves, until the train, as Eva's last meemory of Miranda - and what bearing does that have on her character now, on who she is as a person?
Miranda cannot remove herself from herself to know the objective truth of her life; she will be constructing herself and play the victim to others' constructions of her and have a reputation created in which there may be small truths about her character, but no grand overarching ones.
So is Porter letting on that there is no real, objective truth - or simply outlining the means by which reputation is constructed?
Temper that response with what Miss Honey must think of Amy, when her husband brings Maria and Miranda over to demonstrate that the "'[b]oth of 'em rolled into one look a lot like Amy,'" (200), and with the feeling of Eva that the relationship between gabriel and Amy was "'a kind of lifelong infidelity . . . and now an enternal infidelity on top of that.'" (211) To Miss Honey, the quarrel is not was Amy beautiful, was she slim - she is constructed as entirely something else, as the other woman, even in death.
Reputations are constructed - but upon what? Consider the grandmother who, "twice a year compelled i her blood by the change of seasons, would sit nearly all of one day beside old trunks and boxes in the lumber room, unfolding layers of garments and small keepsakes "; Miranda and Maria "examined the objects, one by one, and did not find them, in themselves, impressive." (175) These little pockets of meaning for the grandmother, the combs and locks and feathers and flowers, are meaningless to the younger generation without some kind of exposition to understand them. Instead of sad souvenirs, artifacts of the past, they are tacky anachronisms, like fish out of water: they are "dowdy," "moth-eaten," "clumsy," "silly-looking," "yellowed," "faded," "misshapen," "cracking," and a host of other words that mean out of place and time (175).
So are reputations constructed on nothing? Several artifacts included or referenced directly in the narrative can surely establish the character of, or at least credible witness to, a person. The photograph of Aunt Amy is first and foremost - but Harry discounts its credibility. There are two letters near the end of Part I. The first is from Amy, and we find that she constructs herself within the letter - she is fond of frippery and horses, keen on scandal, and adoring of her mother. There is little insight to be gained from this letter except how Amy sees herself, or how she expects others to see her. The second letter is from Amy's nurse, and it hints to the suicide that Eva alludes to in Part III. It amounts to only another third person account of a character. (Is that a reflection of the narrative?)
The last artifact is Miranda's mother's diary. When Eva goes off on a diatribe about sex-obsession, Miranda defends her mother on habits that she hopes construct her character - cooking, sewing - and a personal record, Mariana's diary, which Miranda has read. Eva says, "'Your mother was a saint,'" - she is constructing a reputation - and Miranda is outraged, and so constructs a reputation of her own. "'My mother was nothing of the sort" (217).
So even personal testaments, such as letters or journals, cannot be trusted to be evaluated objectively - they are simply more supporting evidence in the inevitably subjective construction of a reputation.
What a flimsy construction! "Old Mortality" seems to say. Miranda's father "had a disconcerting way of inquiring, "How do you know?" when they forgot and made dogmatic statements in his presence. It always came out embarrassingly that they did not know at all" (184). Although every character is guilty of retelling someone else's story to fit their own motives, including Harry, each interpretation of another's life is equally as valid - provided that it is a qualified statement, open to common reinterpretation. Harry and Cousin Eva talk in the back of the car about "common memories, interrupting each other, catching each other up on small points of dispute" (220), leaving reputation open to interpretation long after the events that it is constructed from have transpired.
This reading is why the closing of the story struck me as so sad. Miranda sulks in the front seat, thinking, "I won't be romantic about myself. I can't live in their world any longer . . . Let them tell their stories to each other. Let them go on explaining how things happened. I don't care. At least I can know the truth about what happens to me" (221). The narrator lets on to the foolishness of this promise, calling it ignorance - for even as Miranda prepares to leave her vast, intersecting family and their stories for each other about each other, she will live on in their memories. In every letter they receive from her she will have constructed a self to be remembered by, to be reread later by a different generation as she read Amy's and so reinterpreted. Her exploits will live on at home despite the fact that she won't be there; Cousin Eva remembers that Miranda was "planning to be a tight rope walker . . . going to play the violin and walk the tight rope at the same time." (207) This brief snippet of a story serves, until the train, as Eva's last meemory of Miranda - and what bearing does that have on her character now, on who she is as a person?
Miranda cannot remove herself from herself to know the objective truth of her life; she will be constructing herself and play the victim to others' constructions of her and have a reputation created in which there may be small truths about her character, but no grand overarching ones.
So is Porter letting on that there is no real, objective truth - or simply outlining the means by which reputation is constructed?
Feminism in Old Mortality
In response to Jennifer's post, I want to investigate the opposite view of women in Old Mortality. While Porter does spend a great deal of time describing the seeming perfection of these women, there are ironic undertones in these descriptions. For as much as Amy is glorified for her beauty and her "eighteen-inch waist," she, herself, does not value these qualities. Society is boxing her into a category; trophy wife. However, she refuses to be perceived as such. When a suitor, such as Gabriel, comments her on a feature, such as her hair, she destroys or "mutilates" herself in and act of defiance. Further more, at the Mardi Gras ball, Amy dresses provocatively in order to demonstrate how women are viewed as objects, rather than people. In this scene, Amy's father becomes very upset at his daughter for her manner of dress to which Amy replies, "Why, Papa...what's wrong with it? Look on the mantlepiece. She's been there all along, and you were never shocked before." Thus asserting that society says it is fine for women to be seen and not heard, viewed as aesthetically pleasing objects, but when they dress in a suggestive way, it is looked down upon. While by today's standards, Amy's suggestive costume would have been considered "slutty," for her (and in her time) the act was one of total rebellion and liberation. Another example of how society categorizes people is in the example of the "Old Maid" Eva. Because she lacks physical beauty, she is condemned to a lonely life amongst beautiful women. An active "feminist," she is made fun of by her relatives, one of which even refers to her activism as a substitute for a "bed partner."
Though these observations are few among many, I think that the underlying message in this story is that society, of which we as humans are undoubtedly a part, are highly susceptible to categorizing people, whether or not we are aware of this act. I feel that the title of this short story, Old Mortality, tries to describe that we are, after all, mortal and that looks are fleeting, yet we categorize entire races of people based on physical appearances.
Though these observations are few among many, I think that the underlying message in this story is that society, of which we as humans are undoubtedly a part, are highly susceptible to categorizing people, whether or not we are aware of this act. I feel that the title of this short story, Old Mortality, tries to describe that we are, after all, mortal and that looks are fleeting, yet we categorize entire races of people based on physical appearances.
Feminist Ideas in "Old Mortality"
While reading the first part of "Old Mortality" I could not help but wonder what Porter was doing with these ideas that a woman must be prim and proper through out her life time and how Miranda and Maria looked up to these women whom were described in this feminine way. Like their Aunt Amy whom looked perfect and rode horse and danced beautifully. It just seemed odd to me how much time Porter spent describing these perfect women within the story and placed this unattainable idea for the little girls to follow. Even their father mentions how all the women in his family are thin and must have dark hair and pale skin. So not only do they have these ideals to follow due to being related to these women whom are perfect but their own father places the burden on them as well and Miranda and Maria are both concerned that they will not live up to these standards.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)