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.

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.

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…

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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

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

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.

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).

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.

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.

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?