Sunday, November 29, 2009

Eben Bass Attempts to Word His Article So That His Point Seems Valid

I chose this article because I don't agree with Eben Bass.

In the first paragraph of his criticism, Bass avers that the "reader gets scarcely any sense of order" or time in Benjy's narrative due to his mental condition. I disagree. Though Benjy is unable to interpret incidents any better than a three-year-old, he gives very detailed accounts of his memories. His memories skip around and are not explained and analyzed, but he still "tells" readers about a few very distinct memories of his life, that can, for the most part, be placed on a timeline if the reader simply accepts that, since Benjy is not fully aware of the timeline his own memories, the reader must take on the responsibility of interpreting time himself.

Bass goes on to say that Jason's version of the story is also "flawed"--not in the sense that it was a mistake in the writing, but in that it doesn't entirely satisfy the reader's apparent need for a reliable, understandable, forthright narrator who outlines an explicit timeline--"in that he tries to go back in time by getting revenge on his sister." I don't buy it. Bass tries to set up his article to make the symbols he discusses more important than they really are--to make them the only threads that hold the story together. It's true, the continuity of certain possessions and places help readers understand what happened where and when, but so does the continuation of dialogue from certain memories and the actual narration of the three brothers. These things cannot be dismissed. Maybe Jason is living in the past, trying to get some form of belated revenge on Caddy, but that doesn't affect the reliability of his narration. He is dwelling in the past, making decisions based on the past, yes, but not actually so deluded as to interchanging past and present in his narrative or believing that he actually can alter what has been.

Bass also tries to write off Quentin's section because "he too arrests time, by committing suicide," not acknowledging the 70 pages of meaty narration readers receive before that point.

Bass then goes further, saying, that the "biases" of the three sections "serve to cancel each other out." If that were true, I could have just read section four and understood the novel as well as if I'd read it in its entirety! Even if the sections contradict each other, to say they "cancel each other out" is going too far, creating a poorly-worded, false, absolute declaration. At the end of the day, the three brothers' sections are different, but they tell the same tale and each brother's voice adds another dimension to the story.

After giving a slightly manipulative description of the inaccuracies and holes in the brothers' stories, Bass goes on to discuss how the story's ultimate truth lies in the consistency of the characters' "props". This discussion very quickly digresses into a simple listing of symbols in the story, citing how and when they were used. Awesome.

Waiting for The Barbarians (When?)

I give Waiting for the Barbarians a thumbs-up. I love that most of the characters are not named. The namelessness is stylistically intriguing to me because it is fairly uncommon in "popular" new stories. Right now, I am also reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy, so it will be interesting for me to compare and contrast the significance and rationale of characters' namelessness in the two books. In Coetzee's case, it seems he uses namelessness as a means to convey the story's timelessness. Names go in and out of fashion fluidly, constantly. Even within a single country, within just a generation or two, names go in and out of fashion. Tell me, what era were Gertrude, Mildred and Esther born in? Would you put them in a different time period than, say, Matt, Greg, and Katie? Names can also inadvertently (and sometimes misleadingly) elude to a certain socioeconomic class or position (William and Catherine versus Joe and Trixxie) or nationality (Julio versus Julien versus Julius). By refraining from naming his characters, Coetzee is coyly strengthening the timeless nature of his novel. The first line of the novel, at first glance, seems to give a major hint as to the time period: sunglasses are strange and new. But, because the actual origin of sunglasses is unknown (sometimes being accredited to Nero's looking through emeralds to shield his eyes, sometimes accredited to 12th century Chinese innovators, etc), the detail doesn't pin the book down to a specific time, but instead gives the effect that this story could have taken place anywhere at any time in history, and, in fact, has--with some variation. I really like the timeless aspect of the book.

That being said, I really hate the human-on-human cruelty (which, unfortunately, also has a certain timelessness). There are some things I just can't stomach. A lot of things, actually. And some of the descriptions of the Colonel's "investigations" made me sick--sometimes because of the actual violence, but mostly not. Something about the way the characters talk about the torture, and the narrator's willingness to turn a blind eye on his fellow man, gives me that awful feeling where your stomach sinks so much you feel like you have to clench your stomach just to keep it from falling out.

Even though I hate that he is able, or at least desires to ignore what is going on, I find his inner conflict fascinating. Should he stand up for something he never knew he believed in, but seems to know inside him is right or stand back and enjoy what he has always known, even if that life now seems empty--and even a little wrong? The protagonist fighting for and against the main cause, to me, is far more compelling than a single goal-directed hero (or villain) fighting solely against outside forces.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

I am woman hear me roarrrr

Female characters in Heart of Darkness:

Marlow’s Aunt
Kurtz’s African mistress
Kurtz’s Intended
The blindfolded woman
The women weavers who resemble the Fates

The last two suggest that “women may have a significant role. . .in determining various fates in Heart of Darkness,” but “this determining influence may not be a knowing or intended one.”

Gender issues are tied into race and culture. Marlow’s statements about women don’t extend to African women.

Marlow, re: women: “It’s queer how out of touch with truth women are. They live in a world of their own, and there had never been anything like it, and never can be. It is too beautiful altogether, and if they were to set it up it would go to pieces before the first sunset.”

The womens’ view of the goings on in Africa show the idealistic propaganda that the imperialists use to excuse their exploitation.

Kurtz’s Intended is described: “This fair hair, this pale visage, this pure brow, seemed surrounded by an ashy halo…” She represents idealism. She is passive, sickly, and colorless. Idealism is corrupted, dying, sterile, due to “association with evil forces.”

Kurtz’s African Mistress is active, colorful, passionate, alive and ready for war. Represents the energy of the Africans as opposed to the sterility of European idealism. For her, “there is no division of ideals and aspirations from actuality.”

Their main link is that they were both abandoned and betrayed by Kurtz. “The duplicities of imperialism work their way through into human relationships through—among other things—their connection with gender divisions.”

Why does Marlow choose “to maintain the ignorance of the Intended”? Should the “world of their own” be allowed to exist? Will it make the mens’ world better?

Friday, November 13, 2009

Llama Llama Llama Llama Llama Llama Devil Llama

"I've seen the devil of violence, and the devil of greed, and the devil of hot desire; but, by all the stars! these were strong, lusty, red-eyed devils, that swayed and drove men--men, I tell you. But as I stood on this hillside, I foresaw that in the blinding sunshine of that land I would become acquainted with a flabby, pretending, weak-eyed devil of rapacious and pitiless folly."

Marlow had been describing the chain-gang of natives. Then he jumps to this. Is he still referring to the natives, or has he moved on to the white people who are controlling them? What or whom specifically is he referring to as the "flabby, pretending, weak-eyed devil."? Is the term "devil" used mostly in regard to the natives, the white people, or his own folly?