Lord of the Flies by William Golding.
Briefest plot summary ever: A plane of British boys crashes on an island. Anarchy ensues. (For anyone who hasn’t read it, they start off being all civilized and respectful…ish. Order crumbles quickly as everyone except Ralph descends into savagery. The end.)
Let’s talk symbolism. The Conch Chell. Ralph and Piggy (yes, Piggy) find this shell at the beginning of the novel and use it to get all the boys’ attention. From this point forward, it is a symbol of order and civilization. It is also a source of power, but only to those who respect it. While in meetings, the boy holding the conch is the only one allowed to speak. As long at everyone respects the importance and meaning of the conch, then there is still order. This doesn’t last very long and the conch gets broken (along with Piggy) near the end of the novel. Then everyone hunts Ralph. Nice, huh? The Lord of the Flies. This is a pig head on a stick that Jack (leader of the savages) erects as an offering to the Beast. My friend Seth told me Simon (a boy who gets sacrificed…or murdered…depends on how you look at it) is a parallel to Christ in the novel. If this is the case, then the Lord of the Flies is the Devil. I’m actually pretty sure the Lord of the Flies is a direct translation of the name of a demon in the Bible, which would make Seth kind of right, but I have issues with Simon as Christ that I’ll get to later. The Beast. Picture the smoke monster from Lost, except the beast isn’t actually real. It is basically a parallel to the savagery within each of them. The beast is only as real as each boy makes it by becoming a savage. The Fire. At the beginning of the novel, the boys are constantly burning a signal fire so they can get rescued. Obviously, as they one by one decide it’s more fun to hunt each other, they lose interest in the fire. So, the fire is a symbol of their connection to civilization. However, they get rescued because someone sees a fire Jack and his heathens set to smoke out Ralph. So I’m not sure how this works with the civilization vs. savagery thing. Do I sound bored? Cause I am.
Ok, so Simon as Christ. Granted, he is the only one who figures out what the Beast is. Granted, he is “sacrificed” for his discovery. Well, sort of. He is on his way to tell the boys, who have worked themselves up into some psycho hunting party, what he knows and they kill him in their zest for blood. Creepy, really. Granted, Simon has a conversation with the Lord of the Flies that mirrors Christ’s chat with the devil while he was chillin out in the woods. BUT, there’s no God-like figure in the novel, no supreme being to whom Simon is connected. This doesn’t complete the Jesus-demon-God connection. BUT, Simon never actually gets to tell the boys what he knows. Basically, they kill him too soon for him to be their Jesus. And my last BUT, Simon’s death doesn’t bring the boys salvation. Things actually get way worse before they get better. Therefore, Seth is not so right and I feel like the partial Simon-Christ connection was a waste of my time.
Finally, the descent into savagery. Good vs. Evil. Blah, blah, blah. I’m seriously boring myself here.
So here it is; if you managed to escape high school without ever reading LOTF, then I’m shocked. It might be worth saying that all the events of the book came about because the boys were being transported away from a war zone. So, boo war once again. I wish I could recommend it, I really do. But it is so damn predictable. And it brought a lot of my Children of the Corn issues to the surface. Children are scary and not to be left to their own devices. And, for all its creepiness, it is SOOOO boring. Seriously. Not a fan.
Next up, Rabbit, Run by John Updike!
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
So It Goes
First things first, Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut. I really liked this book. I’m a little bummed out with myself for not discovering Vonnegut sooner, he is an amazing author. Ok, so, about the book…
Fast-like-lightning overview: The novel is narrated by Vonnegut, more or less. The narrator appears as an extra in the novel a few times, but it is definitely a story about Billy Pilgrim. The protagonist, Billy Pilgrim, has become “unstuck in time,” which means that the novel follows him backwards and forwards through time and space as he travels through his own life. To be honest, I cannot remember the order of events after that, and their order is of little importance. Here is the best chronology I can muster, though it is pretty much a clusterfuck of events in the novel. Billy is taken prisoner by the Germans during WWII and transported to a camp in an old cattle-processing plant (he is put in slaughterhouse number 5, get it?). The war ends eventually and Billy goes home. He becomes an optometrist, marries a not-so-attractive woman, and has two kids, a daughter and a son. His son is a screw up who eventually becomes a Green Beret. On the night of his daughter’s wedding, Billy is kidnapped by Tralfamadorians. The aliens put him in a zoo with a female porn star. Eventually they have a kid…maybe two. Not important. The Tralfamadorians are capable of seeing all time at once and travel through it at will. The even know how the universe will end, because they destroy it. So it goes (I’ll come back to this). At some point, the Tralfamadorians send Billy home. He is one of two people to survive a plane crash and is taken to a hospital in Virginia. His wife is in a car accident on her way there, but keeps driving without her car muffler. She dies of carbon monoxide poisoning outside the hospital. Then Billy decides to tell other people about the Tralfamadorians, so he goes on a radio show in New York. His daughter threatens to put him in a home. The novel is simultaneously more and less complicated than I made it, mostly because it doesn’t concern itself with chronology, and ends as it begins, with the narrator telling a brief story of his own. I guess that wasn’t really fast-like-lightning.
Now, about how awesome this book is. First of all, the aliens kidnap an optometrist and a porn star. I’m not sure I need to say much more. Secondly, this is some seriously dark humor. Every time someone dies, the narrator repeats the sentence “So it goes.” People drop like flies in this story, so it’s there a lot. It is written in very short, easy to digest sentences, which give the entire story a very matter-of-fact feel to it. This happened, no need being upset by it because it’s over. Or, this will happen, no need being upset by it either because there’s nothing you can do to change it. Which brings me to my next love, this novel stomps all over the idea of free will. The aliens (remember the aliens?) are aware of the fourth dimension in which, apparently, all events are always occurring. Time, according to them, exists on an endless loop; all events ever have already happened. I’m not explaining this right. Read the book, the Tralfamadorians explain it much better. But the point is that Earthlings are the only beings from anywhere ever (and the fourth dimension aliens would know) that have this convoluted idea of free will. Because we see time as linear and not circular, we humans think we can control events. Get it? Kinda neat to think about, eh?
This may or may not go without saying (I’m saying it anyway…I wonder what the aliens would think of that), but it is very much an anti-war novel. Billy Pilgrim is himself a pacifist. All of the deaths in the novel are equalized, which has the dual effect of making them all insignificant and all terribly dramatic. The liberal tree-hugging composting hippie in me totally digs it. And thinks you will to.
Fast-like-lightning overview: The novel is narrated by Vonnegut, more or less. The narrator appears as an extra in the novel a few times, but it is definitely a story about Billy Pilgrim. The protagonist, Billy Pilgrim, has become “unstuck in time,” which means that the novel follows him backwards and forwards through time and space as he travels through his own life. To be honest, I cannot remember the order of events after that, and their order is of little importance. Here is the best chronology I can muster, though it is pretty much a clusterfuck of events in the novel. Billy is taken prisoner by the Germans during WWII and transported to a camp in an old cattle-processing plant (he is put in slaughterhouse number 5, get it?). The war ends eventually and Billy goes home. He becomes an optometrist, marries a not-so-attractive woman, and has two kids, a daughter and a son. His son is a screw up who eventually becomes a Green Beret. On the night of his daughter’s wedding, Billy is kidnapped by Tralfamadorians. The aliens put him in a zoo with a female porn star. Eventually they have a kid…maybe two. Not important. The Tralfamadorians are capable of seeing all time at once and travel through it at will. The even know how the universe will end, because they destroy it. So it goes (I’ll come back to this). At some point, the Tralfamadorians send Billy home. He is one of two people to survive a plane crash and is taken to a hospital in Virginia. His wife is in a car accident on her way there, but keeps driving without her car muffler. She dies of carbon monoxide poisoning outside the hospital. Then Billy decides to tell other people about the Tralfamadorians, so he goes on a radio show in New York. His daughter threatens to put him in a home. The novel is simultaneously more and less complicated than I made it, mostly because it doesn’t concern itself with chronology, and ends as it begins, with the narrator telling a brief story of his own. I guess that wasn’t really fast-like-lightning.
Now, about how awesome this book is. First of all, the aliens kidnap an optometrist and a porn star. I’m not sure I need to say much more. Secondly, this is some seriously dark humor. Every time someone dies, the narrator repeats the sentence “So it goes.” People drop like flies in this story, so it’s there a lot. It is written in very short, easy to digest sentences, which give the entire story a very matter-of-fact feel to it. This happened, no need being upset by it because it’s over. Or, this will happen, no need being upset by it either because there’s nothing you can do to change it. Which brings me to my next love, this novel stomps all over the idea of free will. The aliens (remember the aliens?) are aware of the fourth dimension in which, apparently, all events are always occurring. Time, according to them, exists on an endless loop; all events ever have already happened. I’m not explaining this right. Read the book, the Tralfamadorians explain it much better. But the point is that Earthlings are the only beings from anywhere ever (and the fourth dimension aliens would know) that have this convoluted idea of free will. Because we see time as linear and not circular, we humans think we can control events. Get it? Kinda neat to think about, eh?
This may or may not go without saying (I’m saying it anyway…I wonder what the aliens would think of that), but it is very much an anti-war novel. Billy Pilgrim is himself a pacifist. All of the deaths in the novel are equalized, which has the dual effect of making them all insignificant and all terribly dramatic. The liberal tree-hugging composting hippie in me totally digs it. And thinks you will to.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
I can still hear bagpipes...
To my own surprise, I did not find the novel itself all that difficult. The plot, major themes and symbols (or maybe they are motifs…I should consult a dictionary) are really easy to identify. That is, of course, assuming I didn’t completely overlook something…
For anyone unfamiliar with A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, here is as brief a summary as I can provide…
Stephen Dedalus is the oldest son in a strict Catholic family in Ireland at the turn of the century. Simon Dedalus, Stephen’s father, either doesn’t make any money or can’t properly handle it because the family is constantly moving to slummier and slummier places and Stephen must attend progressively less prestigious (and eventually free) schools. Throughout the novel, Stephen becomes more and more alienated from his family and struggles with his religious beliefs. While living in Dublin, Stephen loses his virginity to a hooker. While immediately guilt-stricken, Stephen chooses to ignore this guilt and goes on a sin bender which lasts until he attends a three day religious retreat during which he hears sermons on judgment and the torments of hell. These sermons scare Stephen back into not just a pious life, but one of such extreme devotion that he is offered a career in the priesthood. While considering this option, Stephen is checking out some girl who’s chillin on the beach and has an epiphany. He decides to devote his life to art and the pursuit of beauty. Disregarding religion and his family’s wishes, Stephen attends a university where he forms his ideas of art and aesthetics. While at school, he has a seriously long conversation about aesthetics with a friend of his; there were a lot of propositions and I couldn’t follow. Desirous of a life completely free from the constraints of society, Stephen ultimately decides he will leave Ireland to pursue his life as an artist.
After a friend of mine suffered some recent author backlash I’m a little nervous to continue…but I doubt James Joyce will come back from the dead to tell me I’m an idiot so here come my issues…
• Stream of consciousness. I’m not going to be able to accurately explain my problem, but I have one. And I know it will continue to rear its ugly head because I still have to read Ulysses and more Virginia Woolf and a craptastic (don’t stone me) bunch of Faulkner, so hopefully I can get it all out now. I guess I just have a really hard time buying it. I do understand that Portrait is largely Joyce’s autobiography and he is the only one who can authentically narrate Stephen’s inner monologue. So maybe it is the third person narration. I know I bring my own mistrust of the narrator to any story I read, so perhaps that is what causes my dislike of stream of consciousness. Hell if I know.
• Is it just me, or is this novel way too easy to figure out? Theme: The Downfalls Religious Extremism. Stephen’s upbringing leads him to go from a sin binge to religious fanaticism, neither of which stick. Theme: Irish Sovereignty. Or rather, the need for it. Near the end of the novel Stephen discusses how English is a borrowed language; he refuses to accept the position of his ancestors and realizes he must leave Ireland in order to find his/Ireland’s true identity and voice. Theme: Evolution of Individual Perspective. I’m not sure that’s a correct name, but Stephen spends the novel developing his own mind/thoughts/beliefs/individuality. As Stephen develops and matures, so does the language of the novel. Theme: The Function of the Artist. To become a true artist Stephen must leave everything behind and form his own artistic voice. That’s not to say there’s anything wrong with these themes; as far as fundamental ideas of a novel go, these are some great ones. But they are so obvious that I was left searching for some deeper meaning.
• Reading Portrait is exhausting! Part of that has to do with the style in which it is written. Stream of consciousness narration is designed to be confusing and difficult to understand. The reader must piece apart the internal monologue of the character in order to stay abreast of the action in the novel. That takes work and concentration that I just don’t often have. Also, several years pass during the course of the novel and it is left to the reader to determine the time lapses. I don’t like working that hard for my literature.
On the subject of things I did enjoy…
• I appreciate the significance of Stephen’s name. His full name, Stephen Dedalus, is a play on the two sides of him. Several times throughout the novel Stephen repeats his name as if searching for his identity. This too is incredibly obvious but I can dig it.
• The language progression of the novel. As Stephen matures, so does the writing. Because Joyce employed stream of consciousness, it seems obvious that Stephen’s inner monologue and descriptions would progress as he does, but this must have been an incredible task for Joyce. I appreciate it.
Reading Portrait now, out of a college atmosphere and with the time to absorb and consider what I was reading, I definitely liked the novel more that I remember. Sadly, that’s not saying a whole lot. I feel like throwing up my hands and saying, “I don’t get it!” Except that I do. I definitely do. It’s not that difficult to get. What I don’t get is the awesomeness of it. I don’t think it’s awesome. I think it’s tiresome. On the upside, I know where to go for a fantastic description of the fiery torments of hell. And everyone needs a good hellfire sermon every now and then.
Slaughterhouse Five, anyone?
For anyone unfamiliar with A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, here is as brief a summary as I can provide…
Stephen Dedalus is the oldest son in a strict Catholic family in Ireland at the turn of the century. Simon Dedalus, Stephen’s father, either doesn’t make any money or can’t properly handle it because the family is constantly moving to slummier and slummier places and Stephen must attend progressively less prestigious (and eventually free) schools. Throughout the novel, Stephen becomes more and more alienated from his family and struggles with his religious beliefs. While living in Dublin, Stephen loses his virginity to a hooker. While immediately guilt-stricken, Stephen chooses to ignore this guilt and goes on a sin bender which lasts until he attends a three day religious retreat during which he hears sermons on judgment and the torments of hell. These sermons scare Stephen back into not just a pious life, but one of such extreme devotion that he is offered a career in the priesthood. While considering this option, Stephen is checking out some girl who’s chillin on the beach and has an epiphany. He decides to devote his life to art and the pursuit of beauty. Disregarding religion and his family’s wishes, Stephen attends a university where he forms his ideas of art and aesthetics. While at school, he has a seriously long conversation about aesthetics with a friend of his; there were a lot of propositions and I couldn’t follow. Desirous of a life completely free from the constraints of society, Stephen ultimately decides he will leave Ireland to pursue his life as an artist.
After a friend of mine suffered some recent author backlash I’m a little nervous to continue…but I doubt James Joyce will come back from the dead to tell me I’m an idiot so here come my issues…
• Stream of consciousness. I’m not going to be able to accurately explain my problem, but I have one. And I know it will continue to rear its ugly head because I still have to read Ulysses and more Virginia Woolf and a craptastic (don’t stone me) bunch of Faulkner, so hopefully I can get it all out now. I guess I just have a really hard time buying it. I do understand that Portrait is largely Joyce’s autobiography and he is the only one who can authentically narrate Stephen’s inner monologue. So maybe it is the third person narration. I know I bring my own mistrust of the narrator to any story I read, so perhaps that is what causes my dislike of stream of consciousness. Hell if I know.
• Is it just me, or is this novel way too easy to figure out? Theme: The Downfalls Religious Extremism. Stephen’s upbringing leads him to go from a sin binge to religious fanaticism, neither of which stick. Theme: Irish Sovereignty. Or rather, the need for it. Near the end of the novel Stephen discusses how English is a borrowed language; he refuses to accept the position of his ancestors and realizes he must leave Ireland in order to find his/Ireland’s true identity and voice. Theme: Evolution of Individual Perspective. I’m not sure that’s a correct name, but Stephen spends the novel developing his own mind/thoughts/beliefs/individuality. As Stephen develops and matures, so does the language of the novel. Theme: The Function of the Artist. To become a true artist Stephen must leave everything behind and form his own artistic voice. That’s not to say there’s anything wrong with these themes; as far as fundamental ideas of a novel go, these are some great ones. But they are so obvious that I was left searching for some deeper meaning.
• Reading Portrait is exhausting! Part of that has to do with the style in which it is written. Stream of consciousness narration is designed to be confusing and difficult to understand. The reader must piece apart the internal monologue of the character in order to stay abreast of the action in the novel. That takes work and concentration that I just don’t often have. Also, several years pass during the course of the novel and it is left to the reader to determine the time lapses. I don’t like working that hard for my literature.
On the subject of things I did enjoy…
• I appreciate the significance of Stephen’s name. His full name, Stephen Dedalus, is a play on the two sides of him. Several times throughout the novel Stephen repeats his name as if searching for his identity. This too is incredibly obvious but I can dig it.
• The language progression of the novel. As Stephen matures, so does the writing. Because Joyce employed stream of consciousness, it seems obvious that Stephen’s inner monologue and descriptions would progress as he does, but this must have been an incredible task for Joyce. I appreciate it.
Reading Portrait now, out of a college atmosphere and with the time to absorb and consider what I was reading, I definitely liked the novel more that I remember. Sadly, that’s not saying a whole lot. I feel like throwing up my hands and saying, “I don’t get it!” Except that I do. I definitely do. It’s not that difficult to get. What I don’t get is the awesomeness of it. I don’t think it’s awesome. I think it’s tiresome. On the upside, I know where to go for a fantastic description of the fiery torments of hell. And everyone needs a good hellfire sermon every now and then.
Slaughterhouse Five, anyone?
Thursday, July 22, 2010
In other bloggy news...
My friend Jenny seems to have pissed off an ultra-sensitive author. Recently, she had this to say regarding the linguistic difficulty of the title of a new television show, Rizzoli and Isles. Notice how near the end she realises the show was first a book series, which only serves to underline her point about the pronunciation of the main characters' names.
Tess Gerritsen, the author of the series, clearly has a google alert set up for herself because Jenny's blog IMMEDIATELY popped up on her radar. (An author with nothing better to do than google herself should probably find a hobby, but that is neither here nor there.) Without bothering to read Jenny's blog, Gerritsen included it in her own blog about how tragically difficult it is to be a writer and deal with the criticism of strangers.
Please take a moment to dry your sympathetic tears.
Tess Gerritsen, the author of the series, clearly has a google alert set up for herself because Jenny's blog IMMEDIATELY popped up on her radar. (An author with nothing better to do than google herself should probably find a hobby, but that is neither here nor there.) Without bothering to read Jenny's blog, Gerritsen included it in her own blog about how tragically difficult it is to be a writer and deal with the criticism of strangers.
Please take a moment to dry your sympathetic tears.
And the winner is...
So I finished A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man an hour ago. Literally. (Get it, Jennybrown? I'm so damn punny!) I'll be honest, I'm still not entirely sure what was happening near the end so I might have to revisit later tonight. Plus, I need some time alone with my thoughts before I can actually talk about it.
In the meantime, however, it's time to pick the next novel! Using a very high-tech text message system, I have narrowed the choices down to the following:
Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut
Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
rabbit, run by John Updike
What should it be?
In the meantime, however, it's time to pick the next novel! Using a very high-tech text message system, I have narrowed the choices down to the following:
Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut
Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
rabbit, run by John Updike
What should it be?
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
"Nothing could have survived our love"
I am utterly fascinated with the lives of F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald. The drama, passion, and devotion of their relationship rivals any story, real or fictional. Theirs was a great romance. Though challenged by alcoholism and mental illness, infidelity and separation, career ambitions and debt, their intense love for and devotion to each other never wavered. In the end, they were the downfall of their own love. For anyone interested in more information about their lives together, there are several great books out there. My favorite is Dear Scott, Dearest Zelda: The Love Letters of F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald. It follows their relationship from its beginning to the final letter F. Scott wrote to Zelda just two days before his death. The things they say to each other are, for lack of better words, tragically beautiful...
Thanks again for saving me. Someday I'll save you too.
You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, most beautiful person I have ever known, but even that is an understatement because the length that you went to at the end would have tried anybody beyond endurance.
I love you anyway - even if there isn't any me or any love or even any life - I love you.
Nothing could have survived our love.
No matter what happens I have always loved you so. This is the way we feel about us; other emotions may be super-imposed, even accident may contribute another quality to our emotions, but this is our love and nothing can change it. For that is true. And I love you still.
Forget the past - what you can of it, and turn about and swim back home to me, to your haven for ever and ever - even though it may seem a dark cave at times and lit with torches of fury; it is the best refuge for you - turn gently in the waters through which you move and sail back.
Happily, happily foreverafterwards - the best we could.
Thanks again for saving me. Someday I'll save you too.
You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, most beautiful person I have ever known, but even that is an understatement because the length that you went to at the end would have tried anybody beyond endurance.
I love you anyway - even if there isn't any me or any love or even any life - I love you.
Nothing could have survived our love.
No matter what happens I have always loved you so. This is the way we feel about us; other emotions may be super-imposed, even accident may contribute another quality to our emotions, but this is our love and nothing can change it. For that is true. And I love you still.
Forget the past - what you can of it, and turn about and swim back home to me, to your haven for ever and ever - even though it may seem a dark cave at times and lit with torches of fury; it is the best refuge for you - turn gently in the waters through which you move and sail back.
Happily, happily foreverafterwards - the best we could.
The Great Gatsby
"He smiled understandingly - much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in love. It faced - or seemed to face - the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey."
As I have said before, I am a sucker for the sad kind of love story that never quite works out in the end. Reading The Great Gatsby again indulged me not only in the tragedy and passion of the novel, but also of the novel’s author. There is something to be said for having everything you want – all your life’s happiness – just out of reach. (Or, in the case of the Fitzgeralds, having it all and watching it fall apart knowing you are powerless to fix it...I’ll get into them later). This may or may not reflect on me personally…that’s something to look into…
I am not at all interested in discussing or defending Gatsby as The Great American Novel. For my part, I have never been presented with an adequate rival, so my opinion appears to remain as of yet unchallenged. But I welcome submissions. And I’m not going to go into a whole plot description because everyone should have already read this book. And if you haven’t, DO IT! Seriously. I think instead I want to focus on the biggest difference I noticed in my reading of Gatsby this time around.
In learning to approach and digest literature, I often had (and still do) a hard time with narrators. This is particularly problematic when entire novels are in the third person because I have no idea who is telling me the story. While not the case with Gatsby, I recognized a whole new scope of narrative issues in my recent reading. From the outset, Nick Carraway appears to me a rare literary find: a narrator we can trust. Nick is merely an observer; several times throughout the story he is literally just along for the ride. Nick’s actions are of little consequence to the others. Even when it falls to Nick alone to plan and execute Gatsby’s funeral, no one attends. I think this speaks both to Gatsby’s hollow popularity and to Nick’s virtual invisibility to the other characters. It kind of sucks to be Nick, but it always seemed to me that it was a pretty lucky break for us. We as the reader get a virtually unbiased account of the events of the story. Sure Nick is related to Daisy and spends a lot of time with Gatsby, but he doesn’t like any of these people. He’s a reliable witness. Maybe.
This time through I noticed some glaring problems in the timeline. There are huge chronological issues that the reader is forced to sort through. Nick is telling the story in an extended flashback, but it is not clear how long ago this all happened. Everything is supposed to occur over 3 months, but more events than possible are crammed into one month. Does this point to the unreliability of Nick as story-teller or the flaw of Fitzgerald as story-writer? There are also a number of incorrect geographical references. Is Nick remembering incorrectly? Is Gatsby being vague about his past? Is Fitzgerald being inaccurate in his writing? I don’t know the answers to any of these. If this is truly the Great American Novel, then we have to assume that all inconsistencies, chronological or otherwise, are intentional and meant to add somehow to the novel. And if they are unintentional, does that affect how we see The Great Gatsby?
I’m not entirely sure if I care. My love affair with Fitzgerald's language hasn't (and probably will never) changed. The way he describes Daisy just makes me smile…
“I looked back at my cousin who began to ask me questions in her low, thrilling voice. It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again. Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth – but there was an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget: a singing compulsion, a whispered ‘Listen,’ a promise that she had done gay, exciting things just a while since and that there were gay, exciting things hovering in the next hour.”
As I have said before, I am a sucker for the sad kind of love story that never quite works out in the end. Reading The Great Gatsby again indulged me not only in the tragedy and passion of the novel, but also of the novel’s author. There is something to be said for having everything you want – all your life’s happiness – just out of reach. (Or, in the case of the Fitzgeralds, having it all and watching it fall apart knowing you are powerless to fix it...I’ll get into them later). This may or may not reflect on me personally…that’s something to look into…
I am not at all interested in discussing or defending Gatsby as The Great American Novel. For my part, I have never been presented with an adequate rival, so my opinion appears to remain as of yet unchallenged. But I welcome submissions. And I’m not going to go into a whole plot description because everyone should have already read this book. And if you haven’t, DO IT! Seriously. I think instead I want to focus on the biggest difference I noticed in my reading of Gatsby this time around.
In learning to approach and digest literature, I often had (and still do) a hard time with narrators. This is particularly problematic when entire novels are in the third person because I have no idea who is telling me the story. While not the case with Gatsby, I recognized a whole new scope of narrative issues in my recent reading. From the outset, Nick Carraway appears to me a rare literary find: a narrator we can trust. Nick is merely an observer; several times throughout the story he is literally just along for the ride. Nick’s actions are of little consequence to the others. Even when it falls to Nick alone to plan and execute Gatsby’s funeral, no one attends. I think this speaks both to Gatsby’s hollow popularity and to Nick’s virtual invisibility to the other characters. It kind of sucks to be Nick, but it always seemed to me that it was a pretty lucky break for us. We as the reader get a virtually unbiased account of the events of the story. Sure Nick is related to Daisy and spends a lot of time with Gatsby, but he doesn’t like any of these people. He’s a reliable witness. Maybe.
This time through I noticed some glaring problems in the timeline. There are huge chronological issues that the reader is forced to sort through. Nick is telling the story in an extended flashback, but it is not clear how long ago this all happened. Everything is supposed to occur over 3 months, but more events than possible are crammed into one month. Does this point to the unreliability of Nick as story-teller or the flaw of Fitzgerald as story-writer? There are also a number of incorrect geographical references. Is Nick remembering incorrectly? Is Gatsby being vague about his past? Is Fitzgerald being inaccurate in his writing? I don’t know the answers to any of these. If this is truly the Great American Novel, then we have to assume that all inconsistencies, chronological or otherwise, are intentional and meant to add somehow to the novel. And if they are unintentional, does that affect how we see The Great Gatsby?
I’m not entirely sure if I care. My love affair with Fitzgerald's language hasn't (and probably will never) changed. The way he describes Daisy just makes me smile…
“I looked back at my cousin who began to ask me questions in her low, thrilling voice. It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again. Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth – but there was an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget: a singing compulsion, a whispered ‘Listen,’ a promise that she had done gay, exciting things just a while since and that there were gay, exciting things hovering in the next hour.”
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Holden Caulfield Can Kiss My Ass
I tried. I mean I really really tried. Here's what I can pinpoint was already working against me:
- I am not, nor was I ever a 16 year old boy. I didn't understand them when I was a 16 year old girl and I most certainly do not understand them now.
- I appear to have stolen my copy from my 10th grade English class. That class was a terrible experience. Worse than you could possibly imagine. So perhaps I was jinxed by the physical reminder of that shitty year.
- Because I was reading my 10th grade copy, the pages were covered with pencil markings. My teacher had the class make a People, Places, and Things list for every book we read. It's exactly what it sounds like: a list in three parts of every single person, place, or thing that is introduced throughout the course of the novel. I can't even talk about how much I hated this. Anyway, that was really distracting.
- My copy is missing a page. And looking back on my reading experience of the past few days, that page held the key to understanding the entire novel.
Now, I know what I'm about to say probably won’t be popular. I’m ok with that...
I have one major overlying issue. The novel’s title, the one thing Holden can picture himself doing and being for the rest of his life, is incorrect. It comes from Holden not correctly remembering a poem. Perhaps that is supposed to be part of an overlying theme but I don’t see it.
Ok, on to Holden. First of all, he spends the entire novel whining. Everything and everyone is phony. Nobody is interesting enough to hold his attention. There is something wrong with everything. And don't think I missed the underlying issue, because I didn't. I get that Holden is at the precipice of adulthood and that terrifies him. I understand that he feels adulthood corrupts people and takes away their innocence. Holden is terrified of becoming one of the same phonies he is so quick to judge. I get it. I'm just so over him whining about his terrible existence. Puh-leeeez.
Secondly, and connected to my first problem, is that we as the reader have to endure his endless diatribe on adult society all for nothing. There’s no payout in the end. The novel ends and he is no closer to understanding his own world-view as he was in the beginning. Holden is so far from understanding what’s going on in his own head that he’s in a mental institution in California
Also, Holden has a serious problem with follow-through. He gets an idea to do something then suddenly isn’t in the mood anymore. It ultimately becomes too predictable as a characteristic to be anything but frustrating. He lacks conviction. Either that or he is not only a terrific liar to everyone else, he is also great at lying to himself. If that is the case, which it very easily could be, then Holden has thrown away the last shred of credibility he has with the reader. We already have to call into question his motives, his sanity, and his tendency to exaggerate; the only thing he has left is that we as the reader assume he would at least tell himself the truth. But then again, maybe not.
One last, strictly personal, issue. Holden hated A Farewell to Arms. Not only hated it, but completely misunderstood it. And by the way, it is not a difficult story to understand. It’s as simple as they come.
Here’s some stuff I did like…
Somewhere near the middle of the story, Holden goes into the Natural History Museum. He discusses at length how much he always loved going there as a child because nothing inside ever changed. The exhibits were always the same; it is the visitor who has changed. As I was reading that passage I remember being struck as a teenager at the sentences describing the various ways a person could be different that day. Holden says something to the effect of, maybe you’d just seen one of those puddles in the street with a gasoline rainbow in it. And seeing that alone changes you when you enter the museum and view the never-changing exhibits. As an adult I can relate to his desire that certain things in our lives should remain exactly as they are; that we should be able to encase them like the exhibits in a museum.
This quote: “If you had a million years to do it in, you couldn’t rub out even half the ‘Fuck you’ signs in the world. It’s impossible.”
I especially appreciate Holden’s ambiguous future. He has yet to succumb to adulthood, but seems to understand that he cannot remain a child. He is supposed to attend school in the fall, but because he has yet to accept the adult world, it is unclear if he will be any more successful at this school than at the previous. So here’s what I think… Near the end of the flashback, Holden has an extended fantasy of going west; of hitch-hiking completely across the country. I would like to think he checks out of the sanitarium and hitches a ride north to San Francisco
Next up, The Great Gatsby!
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
The First 8
In case anyone reads this and has something to say about the ones I've already read, here's a quick Allyson-take on them. Future books will have more depth :)
A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway
I actually read this about a month before I got this crazy idea to read all the books ever so I decided it had been recent enough and I didn't need to re-read it. I love me some Hemingway, always have and always will, and I'm happy to say that my 2 favorites of his are on my list! A Farewell to Arms is a semi-autobiographical story of Hemingway's time fighting in World War 1 and his intense, yet ill-fated romance with Agnes von Kurowsky. The novel tells the story of Frederic Henry, a Lieutenant in the Italian Army, who falls in love with a British nurse, Catherine Barkley, while healing from an injury. I think part of the reason I love this story so much is because it is so very simple. There is no discussion of the past, the reader never learns anything about Frederic or Catherine before the novel starts. The other characters are mostly unnecessary. It is a tragic love story, as pure and as simple as they come. Because it is set during WWI, the intensity of the love story is amplified that much more. They have to say everything, mean everything, and feel everything between them because it could quite literally be their last day together. Also, I'm a sucker for both love stories and heartbreak stories, and A Farewell to Arms has both in spades. LOVE. THIS. NOVEL. If you have never read it, do yourself a favor and pick it up. This is not the angry misogynist that some mistake Hemingway for. I promise you'll like it.
The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis
I got so excited when I saw this on the list! I've loved the Narnia Chronicles since I was a kid, but hadn't read any of them in SO long. While the first published (and most famous) of the Chronicles, it falls second in the series' chronology. I want to refrain from saying very much about this story because I think it is one that everyone should read; and because it is so short, I don't want to give away too much. It's a great series to read to children. Any adult can easily make it through LWW in one day. And watching any of the movie adaptations does not do it justice. Once I read LWW I went back and read the rest of the series for good measure. There are some stories that are timeless and can still get you even as an adult. This is one of them!
Darkness At Noon by Arthur Koestler
This is where I hit my first issue. The novel is about the trial of Rubashov, who had been a high-up Bolshevik revolutionary but is eventually imprisoned and tried for treason against the Communist government he was instrumental in creating. I read the entire novel fairly quickly, but am not sure I got anything out of it. Perhaps because I left all my knowledge of Russian history back in 9th grade. Or perhaps because, at least in my opinion, literature about the Russian Revolution begins and ends with Animal Farm. I'm looking forward to reading that one again. Anyway, I feel like I needed to be taught what was important in Darkness at Noon. What I can say is that if you like prison stories, personal ideological struggles, and people (not pigs) with Russian names, you will probably dig this one.
On The Road by Jack Kerouac
A freebie!!!!! This has been my favorite book since my mom's best friend gave me my first (and, until recently, only English copy) when I was 15. I have read it more times than I can count and am always floored by it. This is THE novel that defined the Beat Generation. The story is completely autobiographical and revolves around Sal Paradise's (Kerouac) several trips across North America from 1947-1950. And that is all I'm going to say about that. But seriously, read it. Or better yet, I will lend you my copy. It's already got all the best stuff underlined.
Go Tell It On The Mountain by James Baldwin
This is another semi-autobiographical novel. On the surface it is about John (somewhere between 12 and 14 I think) and his relationship to his preacher stepfather (and the Christian church in general) while he is growing up in Harlem in the 1930s. The story moves backward and forward through time to tell the histories of the several characters as they are important to the events of the present. The reader learns the personal stories of all of the adults in the novel, presumably so as to better understand their relationship to John (who both opens and closes the novel) as well as their relationship to each other. The novel also addresses racism, rape, abuse, and salvation. Unfortunately, I don't feel like I got everything out of this novel that I should. After finishing this one I realized that I probably could have simultaneously read Cliff's Notes online to get a better handle of what I was supposed to be taking from the story. Oh well. By the time I was finished I had already thought too hard. On to the next, I thought!
Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
Topping out at about 1500 pages, this was the second time I made it all the way through the monster novel. I doubt that many people would actually read it based on my recommendation, especially if they can't quite make it through the 4 hour film version. But it really is a phenomenal story. If you've seen the movie but haven't read the book, I recommend it even more. There is so much more plot and emotion in the novel. The novel conveys so much more of Rhett and Scarlet's tortured love story, and a great deal more of their hidden emotions for each other, than is possible to show on film. Truly one of the great American love stories.
Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
This book could have fit perfectly in several of my college courses and I am disappointed that I hadn't read it until now. I did some research after finishing the novel and apparently it was NOT received very well when first published. However, it is now considered a cornerstone of both African American and women's literature. TEWWG is the life story of Janie Crawford, as told in a flashback that spans all but the very beginning and very end of the novel, set in Florida at the beginning of the 20th century. It is primarily a story of how drastically her life changed when she married each of her three husbands. It is an incredible story of the resilience of the human spirit. My only issue with the book is also one of my praises. Hurston used phonetic spelling when the characters speak (one example is using "Ah" instead of "I"). The cool thing about this is that you can actually HEAR the characters talking in your head. The drawback for me was that I am a very fast reader and I had to slow waaaaay down to make sure I knew what was going on. This one surprised me and I highly recommend it.
And finally...
Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
This is a day in the life of middle-aged Clarissa Dalloway as she prepares for a party she is throwing that evening. Intertwined with hers is the story of Septimus Smith, who suffers from severe PTSD from WWI. Clarissa and Septimus never meet, but the activities of their day are juxtaposed throughout the novel. I remember reading this in college and liking it...and for the life of me I can't figure out why. Maybe I thought I was supposed to cause I'm a chick. Either way, it is a LOT of work for an ending that I really don't like. I also tend to have a hard time with stream of consciousness writing, which this is. If that's your cup of tea, then go for it! I really don't have much to say in either direction about this novel. If you want to hear from someone that likes it, talk to my friend Jenny.
A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway
I actually read this about a month before I got this crazy idea to read all the books ever so I decided it had been recent enough and I didn't need to re-read it. I love me some Hemingway, always have and always will, and I'm happy to say that my 2 favorites of his are on my list! A Farewell to Arms is a semi-autobiographical story of Hemingway's time fighting in World War 1 and his intense, yet ill-fated romance with Agnes von Kurowsky. The novel tells the story of Frederic Henry, a Lieutenant in the Italian Army, who falls in love with a British nurse, Catherine Barkley, while healing from an injury. I think part of the reason I love this story so much is because it is so very simple. There is no discussion of the past, the reader never learns anything about Frederic or Catherine before the novel starts. The other characters are mostly unnecessary. It is a tragic love story, as pure and as simple as they come. Because it is set during WWI, the intensity of the love story is amplified that much more. They have to say everything, mean everything, and feel everything between them because it could quite literally be their last day together. Also, I'm a sucker for both love stories and heartbreak stories, and A Farewell to Arms has both in spades. LOVE. THIS. NOVEL. If you have never read it, do yourself a favor and pick it up. This is not the angry misogynist that some mistake Hemingway for. I promise you'll like it.
The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis
I got so excited when I saw this on the list! I've loved the Narnia Chronicles since I was a kid, but hadn't read any of them in SO long. While the first published (and most famous) of the Chronicles, it falls second in the series' chronology. I want to refrain from saying very much about this story because I think it is one that everyone should read; and because it is so short, I don't want to give away too much. It's a great series to read to children. Any adult can easily make it through LWW in one day. And watching any of the movie adaptations does not do it justice. Once I read LWW I went back and read the rest of the series for good measure. There are some stories that are timeless and can still get you even as an adult. This is one of them!
Darkness At Noon by Arthur Koestler
This is where I hit my first issue. The novel is about the trial of Rubashov, who had been a high-up Bolshevik revolutionary but is eventually imprisoned and tried for treason against the Communist government he was instrumental in creating. I read the entire novel fairly quickly, but am not sure I got anything out of it. Perhaps because I left all my knowledge of Russian history back in 9th grade. Or perhaps because, at least in my opinion, literature about the Russian Revolution begins and ends with Animal Farm. I'm looking forward to reading that one again. Anyway, I feel like I needed to be taught what was important in Darkness at Noon. What I can say is that if you like prison stories, personal ideological struggles, and people (not pigs) with Russian names, you will probably dig this one.
On The Road by Jack Kerouac
A freebie!!!!! This has been my favorite book since my mom's best friend gave me my first (and, until recently, only English copy) when I was 15. I have read it more times than I can count and am always floored by it. This is THE novel that defined the Beat Generation. The story is completely autobiographical and revolves around Sal Paradise's (Kerouac) several trips across North America from 1947-1950. And that is all I'm going to say about that. But seriously, read it. Or better yet, I will lend you my copy. It's already got all the best stuff underlined.
Go Tell It On The Mountain by James Baldwin
This is another semi-autobiographical novel. On the surface it is about John (somewhere between 12 and 14 I think) and his relationship to his preacher stepfather (and the Christian church in general) while he is growing up in Harlem in the 1930s. The story moves backward and forward through time to tell the histories of the several characters as they are important to the events of the present. The reader learns the personal stories of all of the adults in the novel, presumably so as to better understand their relationship to John (who both opens and closes the novel) as well as their relationship to each other. The novel also addresses racism, rape, abuse, and salvation. Unfortunately, I don't feel like I got everything out of this novel that I should. After finishing this one I realized that I probably could have simultaneously read Cliff's Notes online to get a better handle of what I was supposed to be taking from the story. Oh well. By the time I was finished I had already thought too hard. On to the next, I thought!
Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
Topping out at about 1500 pages, this was the second time I made it all the way through the monster novel. I doubt that many people would actually read it based on my recommendation, especially if they can't quite make it through the 4 hour film version. But it really is a phenomenal story. If you've seen the movie but haven't read the book, I recommend it even more. There is so much more plot and emotion in the novel. The novel conveys so much more of Rhett and Scarlet's tortured love story, and a great deal more of their hidden emotions for each other, than is possible to show on film. Truly one of the great American love stories.
Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
This book could have fit perfectly in several of my college courses and I am disappointed that I hadn't read it until now. I did some research after finishing the novel and apparently it was NOT received very well when first published. However, it is now considered a cornerstone of both African American and women's literature. TEWWG is the life story of Janie Crawford, as told in a flashback that spans all but the very beginning and very end of the novel, set in Florida at the beginning of the 20th century. It is primarily a story of how drastically her life changed when she married each of her three husbands. It is an incredible story of the resilience of the human spirit. My only issue with the book is also one of my praises. Hurston used phonetic spelling when the characters speak (one example is using "Ah" instead of "I"). The cool thing about this is that you can actually HEAR the characters talking in your head. The drawback for me was that I am a very fast reader and I had to slow waaaaay down to make sure I knew what was going on. This one surprised me and I highly recommend it.
And finally...
Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
This is a day in the life of middle-aged Clarissa Dalloway as she prepares for a party she is throwing that evening. Intertwined with hers is the story of Septimus Smith, who suffers from severe PTSD from WWI. Clarissa and Septimus never meet, but the activities of their day are juxtaposed throughout the novel. I remember reading this in college and liking it...and for the life of me I can't figure out why. Maybe I thought I was supposed to cause I'm a chick. Either way, it is a LOT of work for an ending that I really don't like. I also tend to have a hard time with stream of consciousness writing, which this is. If that's your cup of tea, then go for it! I really don't have much to say in either direction about this novel. If you want to hear from someone that likes it, talk to my friend Jenny.
The List!
Blog Revamp. Again. Don't Judge Me.
Several months ago I got a wild hair to read all the great books. I am an interesting judge of literary value so luckily I discovered 2 lists already in existence of exactly what I was looking for! Time Magazine published a list of the 100 best English-language novels from 1923 to present (which at the time was 1998, I believe). In response to this, The Modern Library published their own list of the 100 greatest English-language novels, but this time including the entire 20th Century. In a moment of what can only be described as sheer sleep deprivation ( I was working nights at a hotel at the time), I decided to read these novels. So, I put the lists together and removed all the repeats. Every book I'd already read stayed in. In the end I had a list of 157 novels. Actually, it's more like 168 because one "novel" is actually a 12-part series. YIKES! Once the list was completed there was really nothing left to do except jump in. I had advice to avoid the Russians for a while and move fairly helter-skelter through my list. Not try to turn it into a one-person classroom. So that's what I did!
But I hit a few walls pretty early. First of all, for a novel to make this list it has to be damn good. Basically, not a particularly easy or quick read. I powered through the first few roadblocks on my own but got seriously tied up with Virginia Woolf. That bitch has had it out for me since college...but I'll get to that some other time.
So now we're on to Plan B (which, to give credit where credit is due, was my best friend's Plan A all along...I'm just stubborn). I'm opening up my literary experience to the public for both advice on approaching some of the novels, suggestions for what to read next, or just general discussion of what I'm reading. Since I've already gotten through a few, my next couple blogs will be the actual list and a short recap of what I've already read.
Who's ready to do some reading?!
But I hit a few walls pretty early. First of all, for a novel to make this list it has to be damn good. Basically, not a particularly easy or quick read. I powered through the first few roadblocks on my own but got seriously tied up with Virginia Woolf. That bitch has had it out for me since college...but I'll get to that some other time.
So now we're on to Plan B (which, to give credit where credit is due, was my best friend's Plan A all along...I'm just stubborn). I'm opening up my literary experience to the public for both advice on approaching some of the novels, suggestions for what to read next, or just general discussion of what I'm reading. Since I've already gotten through a few, my next couple blogs will be the actual list and a short recap of what I've already read.
Who's ready to do some reading?!
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