“I have tempted a priest,” [Hastur] said. “As he walked down the street and saw the pretty girls in the sun, I put Doubt into his mind” (Pratchett and Gaiman 18).
A Duke of Hell proudly describes the evil deed he had done. Is doubt necessarily evil, though? Without doubting, one would be believing one thing forever, not discovering if there are any other possibilities, or if it is even true or not. That was the key, to all the magnificent and not so magnificent discoveries and inventions that had popped up through history of mankind.
Crowley, a Fallen Angel, had tempted Eve to eat the “forbidden fruit,” which gave them knowledge. If questioning things and gaining knowledge is “evil,” then, does being “good” mean being a non-thinking doll or animal of some kind? At the end of the text Crowley questions God’s intentions which both Heaven and Hell thought they understood: “why make people inquisitive, and then put some forbidden fruit where they can see it with a big neon finger flashing on and off saying ‘THIS IS IT’? …why do that if you really don’t want them to eat it, eh?” (Pratchett and Gaiman 389). It’s true. We don’t know if God had placed the tree on purpose and knew that when the first two human beings were ready to go out of the comfortable Garden of Eden, in to liminality, they would take the fruit which would give them knowledge—probably enough to survive—which would give God the reason to push them into liminality.
Like Aziraphale and Crowley discuss, everything may be all part of God’s ineffable plan and there is no way we would understand all of its aspects. Nevertheless, it does make sense why some religions believe that change is not that good. If eating the “forbidden fruit” is bad and doubt is evil, then it is natural to be resistant to any kind of evolution. It is important, however, to remember that questions led to inventions and theories, such as the Pythagorean theorem, which many people don’t consider to be evil.
Pratchett, Terry and Neil Gaiman. Good Omens. HARPERTORCH: New York, 1990.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Where He Left Us
It is difficult to keep up hopes, but easier to give up or hide the slightest, most dismal form of it deep inside one’s heart. Many of us, human, don’t like bad surprises and tend to avoid seeing what we don’t want to. McCarthy helps presenting the readers with many human characteristics we want to close our eyes upon.
Every time the man and the boy find food and shelter, they don’t show much hope in the circumstance getting any better. For an example, when they found an underground storage of essentials, they have this conversation:
“How long can we stay here Papa?
Not long.
How long is that?
I dont know. Maybe one more day. Two.
Because it’s dangerous.
Yes.
Do you think they’ll find us?
No. They wont find us.
They might find us.
No they wont. They wont find us.” (McCarthy 148)
Even though the father reassures the boy that no one will find them, he says that they have to leave soon. The scene introduces hope to the reader as well. However, like the characters does, we quickly get rid of any hope, or at least attempt to. We don’t want to be unprepared for any dreadful thing that could happen. In this liminal society with no order, especially, it makes people feel better to not get too comfortable anywhere. It only makes one more naked, in a sense. One would have a much larger chance of facing danger. That feeling keeps the characters and us uncomfortable.
The boy points his finger at the reader when he insists on looking at what is in front of him—the reality:
“They’re already there.
I dont want you to look.
They’ll still be there.” (McCarthy 191)
Not looking at the horrors of the world doesn’t remove any of them from it. I think many of us can find ourselves closing our eyes on horrific sights. However, that only makes us ignorant and no better, if not worse. The boy points his finger to those of us that tend to do that, and criticizes the ignorance. I was stabbed with his bony finger.
There are many other ways and elements McCarthy points out to the ugly side of mankind. He drags us into liminality and leaves us there to make us think about the ugliness inside us.
McCarthy, Cormac. The Road. New York: Random House, 2006.
Every time the man and the boy find food and shelter, they don’t show much hope in the circumstance getting any better. For an example, when they found an underground storage of essentials, they have this conversation:
“How long can we stay here Papa?
Not long.
How long is that?
I dont know. Maybe one more day. Two.
Because it’s dangerous.
Yes.
Do you think they’ll find us?
No. They wont find us.
They might find us.
No they wont. They wont find us.” (McCarthy 148)
Even though the father reassures the boy that no one will find them, he says that they have to leave soon. The scene introduces hope to the reader as well. However, like the characters does, we quickly get rid of any hope, or at least attempt to. We don’t want to be unprepared for any dreadful thing that could happen. In this liminal society with no order, especially, it makes people feel better to not get too comfortable anywhere. It only makes one more naked, in a sense. One would have a much larger chance of facing danger. That feeling keeps the characters and us uncomfortable.
The boy points his finger at the reader when he insists on looking at what is in front of him—the reality:
“They’re already there.
I dont want you to look.
They’ll still be there.” (McCarthy 191)
Not looking at the horrors of the world doesn’t remove any of them from it. I think many of us can find ourselves closing our eyes on horrific sights. However, that only makes us ignorant and no better, if not worse. The boy points his finger to those of us that tend to do that, and criticizes the ignorance. I was stabbed with his bony finger.
There are many other ways and elements McCarthy points out to the ugly side of mankind. He drags us into liminality and leaves us there to make us think about the ugliness inside us.
McCarthy, Cormac. The Road. New York: Random House, 2006.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
A "Enchantez" with Oneself
Harry Potter grows up on 4 Privet Drive in “The Cupboard under the Stairs,” deprived of many important part of boyhood. The Dursleys never gave him anything close to love. His knowledge about his parents almost amounted to nothing. The celebration of his birthday was, of course, denied. That was the only life he knew until his eleventh birthday, when his life completely changes.
Birthdays are liminal. It occurs at the awkward time when one is a certain age but feeling he/she is still in the previous one. Therefore, it is an important rite of passage. It is a vital passageway for one to go through each year.
On his eleventh birthday, Harry is celebrated for the first time, by a stranger. The eleven years worth of celebration comes with the sudden realization that he doesn’t know a lot about himself. He is rushed into a world foreign from what he knew for eleven years—a world in which everybody knows him.
At the welcoming ceremony at Hogwarts, all the new students are sorted by the Sorting Hat. This itself is like a re-baptizing ceremony, where each student is led out of the un-belonging state into one of the four houses. The students find themselves more comfortable I their new home.
Harry, however, is handicapped with the fame he had: “Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won’t even remember!” (Rowling 13). It was not a fame he had earned himself. He is, therefore, still uncomfortable: being in a completely new environment where he never knew about before, surrounded by people who know him—his name, his scar, and his fame.
When he won the Quidditch match for the second time, by catching the snitch and not “nearly swallowing it” this time, therefore, he had finally earned his fame: “He’d really done something to be proud of now—no one could he was just a famous name any more” (Rowling 225). Through his first year at Hogwarts, Harry fills himself little by little with what was deprived from him—self identity. He slowly finds out more and more about his parents and about himself, and goes through tasks which helps him live up to his own name.
Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter. New York: Scholastics. 1997.
Birthdays are liminal. It occurs at the awkward time when one is a certain age but feeling he/she is still in the previous one. Therefore, it is an important rite of passage. It is a vital passageway for one to go through each year.
On his eleventh birthday, Harry is celebrated for the first time, by a stranger. The eleven years worth of celebration comes with the sudden realization that he doesn’t know a lot about himself. He is rushed into a world foreign from what he knew for eleven years—a world in which everybody knows him.
At the welcoming ceremony at Hogwarts, all the new students are sorted by the Sorting Hat. This itself is like a re-baptizing ceremony, where each student is led out of the un-belonging state into one of the four houses. The students find themselves more comfortable I their new home.
Harry, however, is handicapped with the fame he had: “Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won’t even remember!” (Rowling 13). It was not a fame he had earned himself. He is, therefore, still uncomfortable: being in a completely new environment where he never knew about before, surrounded by people who know him—his name, his scar, and his fame.
When he won the Quidditch match for the second time, by catching the snitch and not “nearly swallowing it” this time, therefore, he had finally earned his fame: “He’d really done something to be proud of now—no one could he was just a famous name any more” (Rowling 225). Through his first year at Hogwarts, Harry fills himself little by little with what was deprived from him—self identity. He slowly finds out more and more about his parents and about himself, and goes through tasks which helps him live up to his own name.
Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter. New York: Scholastics. 1997.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Imitation and Confusion
Change is never so smooth. Study of history proves that transition, involving clashes of different ideas, is difficult and painful. After Iorek Byrnison is dethroned and exiled from his place with his fellow bears, Iofur Raknison becomes the new king and introduces new customs—quite different from the traditional ones. The other bears are confused and Iorek seems to be the only real bear, at least according to the traditions. Iofur loses to Iorek in the fight because he rejected from being what he was and wanted to be something else—a man.
Iorek was banished from his home because he had killed a fellow bear in a fight when he should have just wounded him. Although he had killed the other bear because he had let anger get hold of him, the crime was not completely his fault. Iorek’s opponent was drugged and did not recognize his defeat. Since the cause was not just, he was probably able to obtain his former place after he killed Iofur.
He was able to kill him because he was able to trick him. Serafina Pekkala states to Lyra, “When bears act like people, perhaps they can be tricked” (Pullman 278). Although Iorek told and proved to Lyra that bears cannot be tricked, he was able to trick Iofur because he did not want to be a bear. When Lyra encounters Iofur, she sees that “his face was much more mobile, and expressive, with a kind of humanness in it which she had never seen in Iorek’s” (Pullman 294). Not only that, but he was holding a doll—“he was pretending he had a daemon” (Pullman 295). Therefore, Lyra knew that she would be all right. She could trick him because he was obviously pretending to be something he was not.
Lyra tricks Iofur into a one on one battle with Iorek. If she hadn’t done that, the bears would have attacked him with firearms without giving him a chance to have a real fight. It was a violation to the tradition to fight an outcast. Iorek was exiled a while before, and he is not supposed to come back. Even if he does, he doesn’t deserve a righteous combat. The Professor explains, “He’s not a bear, you see. He’s an outcast. …Degraded…” (Pullman 290). Although Iofur exclaims, “Single combat? …Me? I must fight Iorek Byrnison? Impossible! He is outcast! How can that be? How can I fight him?”, he had already brought in new traditions so it wasn’t too difficult for him to violate an old one (Pullman 298). In other words, he was that obsessed with the concept of becoming a man.
The bears’ confusions between the traditions and the necessity to follow the king’s order are quite apparent as well. Lyra compares them with Iorek:
Their armor was polished and gleaming, and they all wore plumes in their helmets. …Iorek Byrnison…was more powerful, more graceful, and his armor was real armor, rust-colored, bloodstained, dented with combat, not elegant, enameled and decorative like most of what she saw around her now. (Pullman 286)
She even saw bears without armors—“a dozen or more bears, …none in armor but each with some kind of decoration: a golden necklace, a headdress of purple feathers, a crimson sash” (Pullman 294). They didn’t know how to behave because the new king was introducing so many new things (Pullman 294). They were stuck between Iofur’s want of becoming somewhat man-like and Iorek’s pride in being a bear: “They weren’t sure what they were. They weren’t like Iorek Byrnison, pure and certain and absolute; there was a constant pall of uncertainty hanging over them, as they watched one another and watched Iofur” (Pullman 303). Therefore, like Iorek who was exiled, they too are in a liminal state.
Lyra took the advantage of Iofur’s obsession and the other bear’s confusion to construct the ritual: “Fights between bears were common, and the subject of much ritual. …But occasionally there came circumstances in which the only way of settling a dispute was a fight to the death. And for that, a whole ceremonial was prescribed” (Pullman 302). The battle was two different ideas clashing. The two bears were not just a bear king and a exiled bear:
…Iorek and Iofur were more than just two bears. There were two kinds of beardom opposed here, two futures, two destinies. Iofur had begun to take them in one direction, and Iorek would take them in another, and in the same moment, one future would close forever as the other began to unfold. (Pullman 307)
Also, Iorek wasn’t the only liminal one. Iofur was, if not the same, more liminal than him. Not only did he bring in new and different concepts into his kingdom, he had committed a crime unknown to the fellow bears. He had killed a bear—“but it was worse than simple murder, for Iofur learned later that the other bear was his own father” (Pullman 299). He had committed a greater crime than Iorek. However, since no one knows this, he cannot be punished. Without being righteously punished, he is left in a dangling position of instability. Therefore, although Iorek was an outcast, the ritual succeeded, because Iofur was a liminal character as well.
Iorek saw that Lyra had tricked Iofur and realized that he could be tricked: “You could not trick a bear, but, as Lyra had shown him, Iofur did not want to be a bear, he wanted to be a man; and Iorek was tricking him” (Pullman 309). It is important for one to know what he/she is and what he/she is capable of. It is inevitable for one to be content with oneself—“Iofur was not content with his armor; he wanted another soul as well. He was restless while Iorek was still” (Pullman 307). Therefore, Iofur is vulnerable and Iorek is able to defeat him despite the tiredness he has which far exceeded Iofur’s.
As he states in the beginning of the ritual, he brings stability back to the bears. He cleanses his kingdom: “My first order to you all will be to tear down that palace, that perfumed house of mockery and tinsel, and hurl the gold and marble into the sea. Iron is bear-metal. Gold is not. Iofur Raknison has polluted Svalbard. I have come to cleanse it” (Pullman 306). Once he kills Iofur and finishes the ritual: “Every single badge and sash and coronet was thrown off at once and trampled contemptuously underfoot, to be forgotten in a moment. They were Iorek’s bears now, and true bears, not uncertain semi-humans conscious only of a torturing inferiority” (Pullman 311). He was able to do that because he was an outcast. He wasn’t polluted with Iofur’s new ideas and was a true bear. Although he was physically liminal, he was a bear and he was certain about that unlike the other bears. It is not wrong to want to become something more than one is. It is important, however, to understand the limits and work within. It is impossible to live a happy life without first being content with what one is.
Pullman, Philip. The Golden Compass. New York: Ballantine Books. 1995.
Iorek was banished from his home because he had killed a fellow bear in a fight when he should have just wounded him. Although he had killed the other bear because he had let anger get hold of him, the crime was not completely his fault. Iorek’s opponent was drugged and did not recognize his defeat. Since the cause was not just, he was probably able to obtain his former place after he killed Iofur.
He was able to kill him because he was able to trick him. Serafina Pekkala states to Lyra, “When bears act like people, perhaps they can be tricked” (Pullman 278). Although Iorek told and proved to Lyra that bears cannot be tricked, he was able to trick Iofur because he did not want to be a bear. When Lyra encounters Iofur, she sees that “his face was much more mobile, and expressive, with a kind of humanness in it which she had never seen in Iorek’s” (Pullman 294). Not only that, but he was holding a doll—“he was pretending he had a daemon” (Pullman 295). Therefore, Lyra knew that she would be all right. She could trick him because he was obviously pretending to be something he was not.
Lyra tricks Iofur into a one on one battle with Iorek. If she hadn’t done that, the bears would have attacked him with firearms without giving him a chance to have a real fight. It was a violation to the tradition to fight an outcast. Iorek was exiled a while before, and he is not supposed to come back. Even if he does, he doesn’t deserve a righteous combat. The Professor explains, “He’s not a bear, you see. He’s an outcast. …Degraded…” (Pullman 290). Although Iofur exclaims, “Single combat? …Me? I must fight Iorek Byrnison? Impossible! He is outcast! How can that be? How can I fight him?”, he had already brought in new traditions so it wasn’t too difficult for him to violate an old one (Pullman 298). In other words, he was that obsessed with the concept of becoming a man.
The bears’ confusions between the traditions and the necessity to follow the king’s order are quite apparent as well. Lyra compares them with Iorek:
Their armor was polished and gleaming, and they all wore plumes in their helmets. …Iorek Byrnison…was more powerful, more graceful, and his armor was real armor, rust-colored, bloodstained, dented with combat, not elegant, enameled and decorative like most of what she saw around her now. (Pullman 286)
She even saw bears without armors—“a dozen or more bears, …none in armor but each with some kind of decoration: a golden necklace, a headdress of purple feathers, a crimson sash” (Pullman 294). They didn’t know how to behave because the new king was introducing so many new things (Pullman 294). They were stuck between Iofur’s want of becoming somewhat man-like and Iorek’s pride in being a bear: “They weren’t sure what they were. They weren’t like Iorek Byrnison, pure and certain and absolute; there was a constant pall of uncertainty hanging over them, as they watched one another and watched Iofur” (Pullman 303). Therefore, like Iorek who was exiled, they too are in a liminal state.
Lyra took the advantage of Iofur’s obsession and the other bear’s confusion to construct the ritual: “Fights between bears were common, and the subject of much ritual. …But occasionally there came circumstances in which the only way of settling a dispute was a fight to the death. And for that, a whole ceremonial was prescribed” (Pullman 302). The battle was two different ideas clashing. The two bears were not just a bear king and a exiled bear:
…Iorek and Iofur were more than just two bears. There were two kinds of beardom opposed here, two futures, two destinies. Iofur had begun to take them in one direction, and Iorek would take them in another, and in the same moment, one future would close forever as the other began to unfold. (Pullman 307)
Also, Iorek wasn’t the only liminal one. Iofur was, if not the same, more liminal than him. Not only did he bring in new and different concepts into his kingdom, he had committed a crime unknown to the fellow bears. He had killed a bear—“but it was worse than simple murder, for Iofur learned later that the other bear was his own father” (Pullman 299). He had committed a greater crime than Iorek. However, since no one knows this, he cannot be punished. Without being righteously punished, he is left in a dangling position of instability. Therefore, although Iorek was an outcast, the ritual succeeded, because Iofur was a liminal character as well.
Iorek saw that Lyra had tricked Iofur and realized that he could be tricked: “You could not trick a bear, but, as Lyra had shown him, Iofur did not want to be a bear, he wanted to be a man; and Iorek was tricking him” (Pullman 309). It is important for one to know what he/she is and what he/she is capable of. It is inevitable for one to be content with oneself—“Iofur was not content with his armor; he wanted another soul as well. He was restless while Iorek was still” (Pullman 307). Therefore, Iofur is vulnerable and Iorek is able to defeat him despite the tiredness he has which far exceeded Iofur’s.
As he states in the beginning of the ritual, he brings stability back to the bears. He cleanses his kingdom: “My first order to you all will be to tear down that palace, that perfumed house of mockery and tinsel, and hurl the gold and marble into the sea. Iron is bear-metal. Gold is not. Iofur Raknison has polluted Svalbard. I have come to cleanse it” (Pullman 306). Once he kills Iofur and finishes the ritual: “Every single badge and sash and coronet was thrown off at once and trampled contemptuously underfoot, to be forgotten in a moment. They were Iorek’s bears now, and true bears, not uncertain semi-humans conscious only of a torturing inferiority” (Pullman 311). He was able to do that because he was an outcast. He wasn’t polluted with Iofur’s new ideas and was a true bear. Although he was physically liminal, he was a bear and he was certain about that unlike the other bears. It is not wrong to want to become something more than one is. It is important, however, to understand the limits and work within. It is impossible to live a happy life without first being content with what one is.
Pullman, Philip. The Golden Compass. New York: Ballantine Books. 1995.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Learning--the Everlasting Journey
I found "The Idea" by Mark Strand to be about one attempting to get out of where they were and getting to another place, obtaining knowledge and experience he/she didn't have. The poem starts with these lines: "For us, too, there was a wish to possess / Something beyond the world we knew, beyond ourselves, / Beyond our power to imagine..." (Strand 1-3). The "us" in the poem wanted to go beyond the world they know to possess something out there--to obtain more than what they have. The poem continues: "...something nevertheless / In which we might see ourselves; and this desire / Came always in passing, in waning light..." (Strand 3-5). By attaining another perspective, they would be able to look at themselves from that other perspective, being able to see what they haven't seen before, another side of them. Also, that desire they had came in vagueness. They may not have been sure about the emerging desire, being so dismal; and/or they may have been trying to hold it back--knowingly or incautiously. Although they finally find another place, they didn't step out of the liminal place and step in there:
And there appeared, with its windows glowing, small,
In the distance, in the frozen reaches, a cabin;
And we stood before it, amazed at its being there,
And would have gone forward and opened the door,
And stepped into the glow and warmed ourselves there,
But that it was ours by not being ours,
And should remain empty. That was the idea. (Strand 14-20)
Although the place looked much comforting and warm compared to the coldness they had came through, they decided not to go in there. They say that the "cabin" was theirs by not being theirs. Even though they don't own the place, they know it from their perspective. It was something in their perspective at that point since they are looking at it from the outside. However, if they enter the cabin, they have a whole new perspective, and even if they settle down after the bewilderment and come up with another stable perspective, it will be different from what they had before, and that perspective would not have been the one of the past them. What was the purpose of the idea? By stating that it shall remain empty by not going in there, however, they are saying that they had come all the way through the liminal space to not go where they had planned to. Are they afraid of going in there--afraid at what may be in there? They could find something completely different and new...but they could find the things that they know of. Are they afraid of finding out that the suffering they went through to get here was meaningless? Or, have they attained what they wanted from the traveling and therefore seek no more? Was the step in solving the one that was the most meaningful and not the results?
And there appeared, with its windows glowing, small,
In the distance, in the frozen reaches, a cabin;
And we stood before it, amazed at its being there,
And would have gone forward and opened the door,
And stepped into the glow and warmed ourselves there,
But that it was ours by not being ours,
And should remain empty. That was the idea. (Strand 14-20)
Although the place looked much comforting and warm compared to the coldness they had came through, they decided not to go in there. They say that the "cabin" was theirs by not being theirs. Even though they don't own the place, they know it from their perspective. It was something in their perspective at that point since they are looking at it from the outside. However, if they enter the cabin, they have a whole new perspective, and even if they settle down after the bewilderment and come up with another stable perspective, it will be different from what they had before, and that perspective would not have been the one of the past them. What was the purpose of the idea? By stating that it shall remain empty by not going in there, however, they are saying that they had come all the way through the liminal space to not go where they had planned to. Are they afraid of going in there--afraid at what may be in there? They could find something completely different and new...but they could find the things that they know of. Are they afraid of finding out that the suffering they went through to get here was meaningless? Or, have they attained what they wanted from the traveling and therefore seek no more? Was the step in solving the one that was the most meaningful and not the results?
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
The Building of Power
In “Power” by Adrienne Rich, the fact that the present is made up of the past is described. How our “now” is built by the events in the past. For an example, Marie Curie died from getting exposed to radiation. I thought it was also interesting how the poem expressed, “she suffered from radiation sickness / her body bombarded for years by the element / she had purified” (Rich 7-9). Curie cleansed the element by becoming the container of the plague. She was the scapegoat of the terrible affects of radiation. At the end of the poem, it is written, “her wounds came from the same source as her power” (Rich 17). Power is something obtained by building confidence, the building of past events, which also creates wounds.
The title of the poem is “Power.” The lines in this poem sometimes have unusual breaks, with more than one space between words. In her first stanza, the first word broke off unusually, is the word “in.” In the second stanza, it’s “out”; in the third stanza, it’s “from”; in the last stanza, it’s “a.” I interpreted this as a transition of the speaker consisting of power: one goes in and out of the state containing power, one obtains something from power, and one becomes a power. Therefore, one becomes power after playing with it and practicing it through time.
The title of the poem is “Power.” The lines in this poem sometimes have unusual breaks, with more than one space between words. In her first stanza, the first word broke off unusually, is the word “in.” In the second stanza, it’s “out”; in the third stanza, it’s “from”; in the last stanza, it’s “a.” I interpreted this as a transition of the speaker consisting of power: one goes in and out of the state containing power, one obtains something from power, and one becomes a power. Therefore, one becomes power after playing with it and practicing it through time.
Friday, April 18, 2008
The Seeds of Tears
In "Sestina" by Elizabeth Bishop, the terms such as rain, tears, stove and almanac are repeteadly applied. Since I could go on and on about the terms, I will focus on the rain and the tears. The grandmother's tears are equinoctial--pertaining to a state of equal day and night (Oxford English Dictionary). The tears she tries to hide are balanced, probably meaning to have both happy and sad purposes for them. Although they are balanced in a sense, it is the inbetween liminal state. She is stuck in liminality. Since she hides the tears, the sky is crying, as the "September rain falls on the house" (Bishop 1). Even "the teakettle's small hard tears dance like mad on the hot black stove, the way the rain must dance on the house" (Bishop 14-6). The tears dancing like mad gives me a vision of someone dancing a "Waltz of Sorrow" if there was such thing, or even kind of acting or overaction of madness. It reminds me of Hamlet when he appears in front of Ophelia like a ghost, and of Ophelia when she is driven mad after finding out about her father's death in Hamlet. There is a theatric-like nuance to this line. I could envision the grandmother's sorrow dancing furiously inside her. The balance may be applied to the dance in a very interesting way. The dance, is sort of controlled because of the balance. Since there is the day and the night part to her tears, she can't go on about one, and has to balance them out, which turns out to balance the dance, giving it a kind of a control. Therefore, the dance is not simply of madness but is of a controlled madness--something far more dangerous than just a madness since now the person has time to think, to use the intelligence to create something horrible out of it. Another important aspect of this part is that the "rain must dance on the house" (Bishop 16). It does say that the tears and the rain "were both foretold by the almanac" (Bishop 9). But does the rain "must dance" or "must dance on the house"? Does it have to dance on the house, or can it be anywhere else? The house is a very important property of people. It gives them shelter and security, and is a device to express themselves. Since it is raining on the house, the house may be in a danger in a way. Even if they are small drops of water, if it keeps on pecking the same place over and over, they make a hole. If so, the shelter now has a small fault--a small hole--in the roof which makes it imperfect and less secure. But also, since it is raining outside, the people in the house probably would not go out unless it is necessary. The rain keeps the people in the house, giving more security to them: making them more safe but less active. Maybe the grandmother is afraid to go out and experience the world where, although good things occur, bad things may occur as well. The rain must dance--why? Dancing is an art form. She may be trying to express her tears beautifully. However, dancing is also a kind of ritual as well. It may be implying that she has to let her tears come out in order for her to move on--to escape the liminal status she is in. Then her teacup is "full of dark brown tears" (Bishop 22). Since the teacup has tea in it, it should be hot. Either she doesn't drink it or it doesn't help, "she shivers and says she thinks the house feels chilly, and puts more wood in the stove" (Bishop 23-4). That happens right after the teacup is introduced. Have the tea cooled down by the time it was referred to in the poem? Is it because of the "tears" that fills the cup and not "tea"? The house also fails to give her shelter as she shivers. Is this because she doesn't let go of her tears and keep them in? As I have mentioned before, she probably has to let her feelings rule her for a moment and let things go out in order to escape the instability. Then the buttons of the man the child draws are tears as well. Usually children's pictures are heart-warming and makes people smile. Now the grandmother can't help but see the buttons as her tears. But this doesn't make her feel better because the picture is not really crying for her: they are buttons drawn by the child. Buttons hold the clothes together and usually helps straighten oneself. The grandmother is straigtening herself up by containing her tears. Although it is orderly, people sometimes need to let him/herself out. She won't be able to escape her status forever if she keeps hiding her tears. Now the "little moons fall down like tears" (Bishop 29). She is also "in the failing light" (Bishop 2). The light--clarity, hope, warmth--is failing and falling, and if she doesn't stop that, she would slip into darkness, with much difficulties to find the way out. At the end, the almanac says, "Time to plant tears" (Bishop 37). In order to plant them, she has to let them out of her. What grows from the seed of tears? Is it a refreshing happiness or an outraging sorrow? Is it the path out of liminality?
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Ancient Yet Still Powerful
In "The Colossus," Sylvia Plath refers her father to the large, powerful, artifact of the past. For an example, she refers to his lips as "great lips" (line 4). She also speaks about something similar to wanting to kill him, even after he had died: "Thirty years now I have labored / To dredge the silt from your throat" (lines 8-9). Although, his physical presence in her world had ceased, he still exists in her, taking a large part of her, since she refers to an object--the Colossus of Rhodes, which I have assumed from her mentioning of the sun--which is considered one of the Seven Wonders of the World. It was actually destroyed by an earthquake after 54 years of standing, which is the age her father was at when he passed away. Even after it's wreckage, the Colossus is still alive, intriguing people with wonders. In a sense, one doesn't die out until he/she is completely forgotten. Since not only can't she forget her father, but she is still struggling with the memories of him inside her, he is not completely dead. This poem extravagantly portrays his strong existence in her.
What is interesting in her poem is the fact that she includes a lot of Greek elements but not only so, mentioning the Roman Forums. She actually directly relates him to the Roman Forum in line 18. While Greek mythology acknowledges lying as a source of winning, Roman mythology doesn't. I am not sure yet why she included a mixture of the two ancient societies, but I think there is something to it. I think it is interesting to do more research on this topic and get more insights about this poem.
What is interesting in her poem is the fact that she includes a lot of Greek elements but not only so, mentioning the Roman Forums. She actually directly relates him to the Roman Forum in line 18. While Greek mythology acknowledges lying as a source of winning, Roman mythology doesn't. I am not sure yet why she included a mixture of the two ancient societies, but I think there is something to it. I think it is interesting to do more research on this topic and get more insights about this poem.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
The Use of Repetition
Langston Hughes’ poems have a lot of repetition. If the repetition is of a whole line, it usually repeats itself only once. In “Hard Daddy,” he also has a lot of repetition, especially of whole lines. In the first stanza, the girl reports to her father, “I have got the blues,” two times (Hughes 2-4). Although it may be that the line was repeated just for emphasis, her statement is simply waved off when her father replies, “Honey / Can’t you bring better news?” (Hughes 5-6). In the next stanza, the lines “…cried on his shoulder but / He turned his back on me” is repeated (Hughes 7-10). It could be that the girl tried two times and her father rejected her for both, but it also could be that it was a flashback, as to emphasize his action. Either way, it is true that the repeated lines are emphasized. In the last stanza, the lines “…wish I had wings to / Fly like de eagle flies” is repeated (Hughes 13-6). A lot of the readers may believe that the girl wants to be free of sorrows, soaring through the sky carelessly or some other ideas of flying and/or freedom. However, the poem ends with the surprising idea that she wants to “scratch out both his [i.e. her father] eyes” (Hughes 17-8). The emphasis that she wants wings before the last two lines helped build up the wrong images in my mind, which grabbed my heart with surprise. Langston Hughes’ use of repetition is very deep and there seems to be multiple reasons for them. It is a difficult item to decipher, but I find it one of the most interesting and intriguing elements of his poems.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Too Much Liminality
In "A Grave" by Marianne Moore, the speaker is dying, standing in the sea. She describes that "it is human nature to stand in the middle of a thing" (3). In other words, people tend to go into liminal status. However, one cannot stay there forever because it is unstable. Although one need to experience liminality a lot during one's lifetime, it is impossible to stay liminal forever. It is crucial to find a way to get out of it. For an example, one cannot stay between sky and water forever with nothing to stand on; one will drown. Too much liminality may drive one into death of any kind, just like the speaker in the poem.
Don't Jump at Conclusions
In "Dust of Snow" by Robert Frost, the dust of snow saves the speaker's "some part / Of a day [he] had rued" (7-8). Dust and crow are usually referred to something not so pleasant. A hemlock is actually poisonous, and therefore, has more negative connotation. The black crow, however, shakes the hemlock tree, showering the speaker with the dust of snow, which he gives a positive feedback. A crow, from above him, shakes down the dust, as if shaking him to say "wake up"!! The "dust" of snow falls from the hemlock tree, which has white flowers. Although poisonous, it attains white flowers, as if to show it's pureness, adding on to the snow that gives the speaker's heart "a change of mood" (5-6). The dust the speaker is showered with actually helps him. Frost plays with words, expressing the possibility of the things with negative connotations to have positive impact. This poem also shows how one could get moved by something trivial. Small happiness is happiness and always helps the person. Also it is important to find the happiness and let the small happiness reach oneself: be open for it. It is much ignorant to assume something. The openness is the key to success.
The History is Now and the Now is History
In Wallace Stevens' "A Postcard from the Volcano," he wrote:
"And least will guess that with our bones
We left much more, left what still is
The look of things, left what we felt
At what we saw." (7-10)
He expresses how the present is made up of the past, and even though one may not notice, without the past there is no present. What people left before are important, and how they come out to appear in the present is intriguing. However, a thing cannot be described by the past only. It includes its past, its present, its potential future, the different opinions about, the different sides of it, and its opinion. It may be that, to completely understand the object, one have to take account of every single piece--not leaving out anything. Even though everybody have different views and opinions, none of them are solely wrong. But may does not mean that everything is right. Then what is right and what is wrong? If one thinks tomatoes are nasty and one thinks they're great, which is right? Can both be right? Are there such things as right and wrong? Everything has pros and cons. Is anything really good or bad? Is it possible to categorize everything in the two groups or would they all come out neutral overall? Is it possible to find out every single thing about a thing? Humans only have limited knowledge and limited space to use it. One may not know, for an example, why their house was built, why the house is of that appearance, what had happened in the house before, the significance of the material, the place, etc, who built it, etc...but he/she still lives in it. Does it matter to know every single aspect of something? How much do we have to know in order to live in this world? To what extent of knowledge do we not have to acquire so we would not be "ignorant"? We only have limited knowledge and we have to work with it. There should be a meaning and some kind of essence in the limit. However, it is important to remember how the present is nonexistent without the past...and that is one of the reasons we learn history in school!!!
"And least will guess that with our bones
We left much more, left what still is
The look of things, left what we felt
At what we saw." (7-10)
He expresses how the present is made up of the past, and even though one may not notice, without the past there is no present. What people left before are important, and how they come out to appear in the present is intriguing. However, a thing cannot be described by the past only. It includes its past, its present, its potential future, the different opinions about, the different sides of it, and its opinion. It may be that, to completely understand the object, one have to take account of every single piece--not leaving out anything. Even though everybody have different views and opinions, none of them are solely wrong. But may does not mean that everything is right. Then what is right and what is wrong? If one thinks tomatoes are nasty and one thinks they're great, which is right? Can both be right? Are there such things as right and wrong? Everything has pros and cons. Is anything really good or bad? Is it possible to categorize everything in the two groups or would they all come out neutral overall? Is it possible to find out every single thing about a thing? Humans only have limited knowledge and limited space to use it. One may not know, for an example, why their house was built, why the house is of that appearance, what had happened in the house before, the significance of the material, the place, etc, who built it, etc...but he/she still lives in it. Does it matter to know every single aspect of something? How much do we have to know in order to live in this world? To what extent of knowledge do we not have to acquire so we would not be "ignorant"? We only have limited knowledge and we have to work with it. There should be a meaning and some kind of essence in the limit. However, it is important to remember how the present is nonexistent without the past...and that is one of the reasons we learn history in school!!!
Friday, February 15, 2008
The "Kathleen"
In "Danse Russe" by William Carlos Williams, the speaker of the poem adresses almost everything in a personal sense: "my wife," "my north room," "my mirror, "my shirt," "my arms" etc. There is a lot of "I" as well: seven in all. In the second line, however, there is "the baby and Kathleen." He does not refer to the baby as his own. The baby may not be his. If it was his baby, however, why would he refer to him/her as "the baby"? This poem is quite like the speaker escaping, at least in a mental way, his own life--being "lonely" without the others intruding in his life. It may be that the baby was impersonal for that reason. Same could be said for "Kathleen" too. The one thing that makes peculiar about "Kathleen" is that, that is the only proper noun written in this poem. The speaker, his wife, nor the baby had been identified with names. If she was his daughter, he could have written "my daughter." If it was a servant, he could have written "the servant." If it was his dog, he could have written "my dog." What was the meaning of this queer creativity? Although the speaker does say that he is "best so" at being "lonely," he could possibly be reaching out for someone to grasp his hand and tell him "no." He may be pointing out that something that one may think is the "best" may not be, and the person may be longing something else--something else that he/she may not have noticed--reaching out for it unconsciously.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
The "Lala"s and "Lulu"s of Our Mind
Gertrude Stein plays with the readers' mind in a queer way and, because of that, some may find her poems quite confusing and indecisive. She very well portrays people's mind activities and the ambiguities in our everyday life--the reality some may find to not want to touch and/or accept. Ambiguity and the incomprehensive part of our world is frightening and a lot tend to not want too much of those. For an example, some, including myself, are afraid of ghosts. Ghosts are invisible and not scientifically decipherable, and because of that, it contains power. The ambiguous power makes people feel insecure and unstable. Another example is the fear of earthquakes and other natural disasters. Although technology have advanced quite a lot and a lot of machines can catch the sign before the occurance, the strength of the disasters can still not be absolutely predictable. Also, even if some may feel they have the control over nature, that is impossible because the power of nature is ambiguous and gives it power.
Stein's poems possibly give readers some kind of uncomfortableness or unstableness. She repeats a lot of words, exhausting them as she uses them in various ways. In "Sacred Emily," she repeats a lot as well, giving some readers a headache and insecureness because the poem seems unable to be controlled. The readers cannot wrap their hands around the poem and cuddle it in their arms. Instead, the poem slips, drips, flies, and teleports out, dancing, running, skipping, cartwheeling and doing everything imaginable making the readers baffled and uncomfortable. But if one stops and thinks--thinks about it for a moment--one may be able to realize how the poem is just like our state of mind when we space out during class, when we are trying to get to sleep, when we are walking, when we are not thinking about thinking. I could be thinking about pigeons while someone is talking about calendars. Our mind is incontrollable. We start thinking about one thing, ending up with something completely different. An easier example: we start talking about one thing, ending with something absolutely different. Our mind exercises--either on its own or not. Our mind is incontrollable, indecisive, a trickster, a necessity, dancing and jumping and cartwheeling a lot of the time, unnoticed. We may be quite uneasy and alarmed by it, but our mind is a necissity. It is nice to remember that a lot of things are not in our hands but slips out and twists around continuously.
Our minds do work that way oftenly--start thinking about one thing and the mind works out like crazy! In the poem, for an example, Stein writes:
Ethel.
Ethel.
Ethel.
Next to barber.
Next to barber bury.
Next to barber bury china.
Next to barber bury china glass.
Next to barber china and glass.
Next to barber and china.
Next to barber and hurry.
Next to hurry.
Next to hurry and glass and china.
Next to hurry and glass and hurry.
Next to hurry and hurry.
Next to hurry and hurry.
Plain cases for see. (96-111)
How often do people do this in their brain? Do we even know? Our minds are fantastic: too wonderful that it can think on and on about peculiar "stuff." The ability of our minds are unknown and people are therefore awed and tickled by it, making them quite uncomfortable at times. It is nice, however, to acknowledge it and feel the tink, which Stein helps to sparkle on us.
Stein's poems possibly give readers some kind of uncomfortableness or unstableness. She repeats a lot of words, exhausting them as she uses them in various ways. In "Sacred Emily," she repeats a lot as well, giving some readers a headache and insecureness because the poem seems unable to be controlled. The readers cannot wrap their hands around the poem and cuddle it in their arms. Instead, the poem slips, drips, flies, and teleports out, dancing, running, skipping, cartwheeling and doing everything imaginable making the readers baffled and uncomfortable. But if one stops and thinks--thinks about it for a moment--one may be able to realize how the poem is just like our state of mind when we space out during class, when we are trying to get to sleep, when we are walking, when we are not thinking about thinking. I could be thinking about pigeons while someone is talking about calendars. Our mind is incontrollable. We start thinking about one thing, ending up with something completely different. An easier example: we start talking about one thing, ending with something absolutely different. Our mind exercises--either on its own or not. Our mind is incontrollable, indecisive, a trickster, a necessity, dancing and jumping and cartwheeling a lot of the time, unnoticed. We may be quite uneasy and alarmed by it, but our mind is a necissity. It is nice to remember that a lot of things are not in our hands but slips out and twists around continuously.
Our minds do work that way oftenly--start thinking about one thing and the mind works out like crazy! In the poem, for an example, Stein writes:
Ethel.
Ethel.
Ethel.
Next to barber.
Next to barber bury.
Next to barber bury china.
Next to barber bury china glass.
Next to barber china and glass.
Next to barber and china.
Next to barber and hurry.
Next to hurry.
Next to hurry and glass and china.
Next to hurry and glass and hurry.
Next to hurry and hurry.
Next to hurry and hurry.
Plain cases for see. (96-111)
How often do people do this in their brain? Do we even know? Our minds are fantastic: too wonderful that it can think on and on about peculiar "stuff." The ability of our minds are unknown and people are therefore awed and tickled by it, making them quite uncomfortable at times. It is nice, however, to acknowledge it and feel the tink, which Stein helps to sparkle on us.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Shaking Hands
"The doctor and me have got to be kind of partners..." (Jewett 60).
In Sarah Orne Jewett's The Country of the Pointed Firs, Almira Todd expresses that the doctor can't see and help every patient seeking it, and, therefore, she supports him by reaching out to other patients with her knowledge of herbalogy. Although the two have different procedures in curing, they both are able to assist people in need of one. The cooperation of two people with such difference is also seen in Gloria Naylor's Mama Day when Miranda calls Dr. Smithfield in need for assistance of curing Bernice's pain caused by a drug foreign to Miranda. Not many men play significant roles in both stories overall. In the case above, Mrs. Todd, who also have a large figure and the way of showing affection somewhat more masculine than feminine, is indicating the importance of the doctor getting her support in order to take care of the townspeople, making the women as important as the men. In Mama Day, Miranda is also shown to have a high respect in her town and a irrational power--a power much greater than what the men has in the novel. Both stories magnificently hint women's power. Do the art works portray the superiority of women over men, written in order to support a theory exceeding the feminist one, or did they want to signify the importance of women's role and its maternal qualities in the society? What kind of qualities of women apply to them so that they are kind of a sacred being? Except for the giving of birth to children, what are their significant qualities? Do the stories indicate the importance of men and women shaking hands and working together? If so how? In what way? What would be the most efficient way of the two genders cooperating with each other?
In Sarah Orne Jewett's The Country of the Pointed Firs, Almira Todd expresses that the doctor can't see and help every patient seeking it, and, therefore, she supports him by reaching out to other patients with her knowledge of herbalogy. Although the two have different procedures in curing, they both are able to assist people in need of one. The cooperation of two people with such difference is also seen in Gloria Naylor's Mama Day when Miranda calls Dr. Smithfield in need for assistance of curing Bernice's pain caused by a drug foreign to Miranda. Not many men play significant roles in both stories overall. In the case above, Mrs. Todd, who also have a large figure and the way of showing affection somewhat more masculine than feminine, is indicating the importance of the doctor getting her support in order to take care of the townspeople, making the women as important as the men. In Mama Day, Miranda is also shown to have a high respect in her town and a irrational power--a power much greater than what the men has in the novel. Both stories magnificently hint women's power. Do the art works portray the superiority of women over men, written in order to support a theory exceeding the feminist one, or did they want to signify the importance of women's role and its maternal qualities in the society? What kind of qualities of women apply to them so that they are kind of a sacred being? Except for the giving of birth to children, what are their significant qualities? Do the stories indicate the importance of men and women shaking hands and working together? If so how? In what way? What would be the most efficient way of the two genders cooperating with each other?
Thursday, November 22, 2007
The Use of Force on an Animal
"The child was fairly eating me up with her cold, steady eyes, and no expression to her face whatever. She did not move and seemed, inwardly, quiet; an unusually attractive little thing, and as strong as a heifer in appearance. but her face was flushed, she was breathing rapidly, and I realized that she had a high fever. She had magnificent blonde hair, in profusion. One of those picture children often reproduced in advertising leaflets and the photogravure sections of the Sunday papers...I have already fallen in love with the savage brat...But now I also had grown furious-at a child...I tried to hold myself down but I couldn't..."(Bohner and Grant 1170-172).
In "The Use of Force" by William Carlos Williams, while a lot of people interpreted the doctor's feeling towards the girl more of a luscious one, making the doctor a kind of a pediphile figure and the act as rape-like. However, I took his feeling more like a feeling a person might have towards an animal-as if the girl is one. When he first saw her and the girl was eating him up with her eyes, it was as if an animal, especially one that would be a pet, was deeply observing him. The way he thinks how she has magnificent hair and so forth is as if he is talking about a beautiful doll-as if he is dehumanizing the figure. He feels the want to force the investigation of her throat, like the feeling of wanting to get control over his/her pet or an animal. It is like the determination one has when he/she decides to do anything to get control over an animal. Although I was thinking of the animal being more dog-like than anything else, I think it could be anything. Anyhow, I felt that the doctor wasn't feeling pleasure for the girl, but he was more dehumanizing the girl. The mother and the father was annoying to him because he thought he is able to control the "animal" and their talking was interfering with his process. Because she was dehumanized in his eyes, he was able to force the examination.
In "The Use of Force" by William Carlos Williams, while a lot of people interpreted the doctor's feeling towards the girl more of a luscious one, making the doctor a kind of a pediphile figure and the act as rape-like. However, I took his feeling more like a feeling a person might have towards an animal-as if the girl is one. When he first saw her and the girl was eating him up with her eyes, it was as if an animal, especially one that would be a pet, was deeply observing him. The way he thinks how she has magnificent hair and so forth is as if he is talking about a beautiful doll-as if he is dehumanizing the figure. He feels the want to force the investigation of her throat, like the feeling of wanting to get control over his/her pet or an animal. It is like the determination one has when he/she decides to do anything to get control over an animal. Although I was thinking of the animal being more dog-like than anything else, I think it could be anything. Anyhow, I felt that the doctor wasn't feeling pleasure for the girl, but he was more dehumanizing the girl. The mother and the father was annoying to him because he thought he is able to control the "animal" and their talking was interfering with his process. Because she was dehumanized in his eyes, he was able to force the examination.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
The Moment
"'Nemo me impune lacessit.'
'Good!' he said" (Bohner and Grant 937).
"The Cask of Amontillado" written by Edgar Allan Poe is full of incredible elements that astonish a lot of the readers. One of the ways he does that is by playing with the readers' mind, which he also does in so many different ways. However, one part that made me feel the awesomeness was when Fortunato says "Good" when Montresor tells him their family motto. This short story starts with Montresor's vow of revenging on his friend who had given Montresor "thousand injuries" (Bohner and Grant 935). Hence, the image of Fortunato being a "bad" guy, along with the image of Montresor as a kind of a heroic figure-like Hamlet-was implanted in me. As the story moves on, Montresor's statement gets less and less authoritative as if he is a crazy person. This part of the story especially emphasizes the fact: it completely changes our view of both men. If Fortunato did something wrong, it wouldn't have been severe. Maybe it was for Montresor, but it may have been solved if he just told him. Fortunato seem to have no clue that he have offended his friend because he has no hesitation or awkwardness in saying that Montresor's family motto, which simply says that he would get back on someone who offends him, is good. He doesn't suspect anything nor decide to go back up. Fortunato's sense of innocence is brought and the reader is somewhat baffled. Montresor does not seem to have a good enough reason to convey vengeance on his friend. This takes away the whole conflict of "should I" or "should I not" appearing in Hamlet as Hamlet suffers through anxiety of if it is really okay for him to kill his uncle. Montresor, at least in the story, does not appear to have been through such thinking. Since he is lacking such "human" characteristic, he is crazy, at least more than Hamlet would be. Also, in Hamlet, we see Claudius confessing to himself that he have killed the king. In "The Cask of Amontillado," we could only see Montresor's feelings and Montresor's action. Because his actions are not valid anymore, this story as a whole is corrupted: we don't know to what extent the story is true (in the setting of the story). Why would Poe write in such way? I wonder if this is some kind of way in going against the popular novels and short stories.
'Good!' he said" (Bohner and Grant 937).
"The Cask of Amontillado" written by Edgar Allan Poe is full of incredible elements that astonish a lot of the readers. One of the ways he does that is by playing with the readers' mind, which he also does in so many different ways. However, one part that made me feel the awesomeness was when Fortunato says "Good" when Montresor tells him their family motto. This short story starts with Montresor's vow of revenging on his friend who had given Montresor "thousand injuries" (Bohner and Grant 935). Hence, the image of Fortunato being a "bad" guy, along with the image of Montresor as a kind of a heroic figure-like Hamlet-was implanted in me. As the story moves on, Montresor's statement gets less and less authoritative as if he is a crazy person. This part of the story especially emphasizes the fact: it completely changes our view of both men. If Fortunato did something wrong, it wouldn't have been severe. Maybe it was for Montresor, but it may have been solved if he just told him. Fortunato seem to have no clue that he have offended his friend because he has no hesitation or awkwardness in saying that Montresor's family motto, which simply says that he would get back on someone who offends him, is good. He doesn't suspect anything nor decide to go back up. Fortunato's sense of innocence is brought and the reader is somewhat baffled. Montresor does not seem to have a good enough reason to convey vengeance on his friend. This takes away the whole conflict of "should I" or "should I not" appearing in Hamlet as Hamlet suffers through anxiety of if it is really okay for him to kill his uncle. Montresor, at least in the story, does not appear to have been through such thinking. Since he is lacking such "human" characteristic, he is crazy, at least more than Hamlet would be. Also, in Hamlet, we see Claudius confessing to himself that he have killed the king. In "The Cask of Amontillado," we could only see Montresor's feelings and Montresor's action. Because his actions are not valid anymore, this story as a whole is corrupted: we don't know to what extent the story is true (in the setting of the story). Why would Poe write in such way? I wonder if this is some kind of way in going against the popular novels and short stories.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Luck
"'Well anyhow,' he said stoutly, 'I'm a lucky person'"(Bohner and Grant 711).
In "The Rocking-Horse Winner" by D.H. Lawrence, Paul's mother explains to him the if one has luck, the person would "always get more money" (Bohner and Grant 710). Paul identifies himself, to his mother, as being lucky, and surely, after that, he starts winning money in horse races. When he had arranged to give the money to his mother, he said, "I shouldn't like Mother to know I was lucky...[because] she'd stop me" (Bohner and Grant 715). This is curious because his mother wanted more money, and in order to get them constantly, she describes, one needs luck. Wouldn't she be happy if her son was lucky and he got money persistently? Anyhow, he does not tell his mother: possibly because he doesn't want to make her envious of him or because he has a feeling, if not conscious, superconscious, that there is something wrong with this "luck."
Nevertheless, his life doesn't seem to get well, and except for the fact that he was winning at the races, he seemed to get crazier and crazier until he dies. Was he really lucky if he wasn't achieving happiness which he thought he would be able to attain once he got "lucky" and started winning money? He even died by achieving the "luck." Was Paul really lucky? Was this an illusion or a quality he had achieved in exchange of a compensation-his life? What is luck? Is it necessarily "good"? Having too much luck could be scary because it could be a premonition of something "bad" happening. Are we, as human beings, actually happier with luck or without luck?
In "The Rocking-Horse Winner" by D.H. Lawrence, Paul's mother explains to him the if one has luck, the person would "always get more money" (Bohner and Grant 710). Paul identifies himself, to his mother, as being lucky, and surely, after that, he starts winning money in horse races. When he had arranged to give the money to his mother, he said, "I shouldn't like Mother to know I was lucky...[because] she'd stop me" (Bohner and Grant 715). This is curious because his mother wanted more money, and in order to get them constantly, she describes, one needs luck. Wouldn't she be happy if her son was lucky and he got money persistently? Anyhow, he does not tell his mother: possibly because he doesn't want to make her envious of him or because he has a feeling, if not conscious, superconscious, that there is something wrong with this "luck."
Nevertheless, his life doesn't seem to get well, and except for the fact that he was winning at the races, he seemed to get crazier and crazier until he dies. Was he really lucky if he wasn't achieving happiness which he thought he would be able to attain once he got "lucky" and started winning money? He even died by achieving the "luck." Was Paul really lucky? Was this an illusion or a quality he had achieved in exchange of a compensation-his life? What is luck? Is it necessarily "good"? Having too much luck could be scary because it could be a premonition of something "bad" happening. Are we, as human beings, actually happier with luck or without luck?
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
A Good Man is Hard to Find...Or is It Possible?
"A good man is hard to find..." (Bohner and Grant 907).
The title of the short story by Flannery O'Connor and the phrase Red Sam gives on page 907, indicates that a good man is difficult to find...if there is such thing as "a good man." I think this is a foolish statement. What is a good man? Is a man good if he treats everyone else well? Is he good if he is patriotic? Is he good if he lies for a good purpose or if he says the truth for a bad purpose? If there is such thing as "good man," there would not be any universal concept. Different cultures...different people have different understanding of what a good man is.
Anyhow, there is no such thing as a "good" man or a "bad" man. It is undoubtedly impossible to identify a person as one or the other. Human have both qualities, not specifically meaning anything good nor bad, that balance out each person. We don't live in a fairy tale world where everything is black and white. Although some people may have more of one quality than the other, that doesn't make the person good or bad. A person has too many qualities, that it is impossible to explain in one word. Also bad qualities can be good in some circumstances and vice versa. In other words, the environment makes one quality look good or bad and even one quality cannot be completely defined as being good nor bad.
A good man is not hard to find...they are impossible to find. It is impossible to classify one person with one word. A person is so much worth than one adjective.
The title of the short story by Flannery O'Connor and the phrase Red Sam gives on page 907, indicates that a good man is difficult to find...if there is such thing as "a good man." I think this is a foolish statement. What is a good man? Is a man good if he treats everyone else well? Is he good if he is patriotic? Is he good if he lies for a good purpose or if he says the truth for a bad purpose? If there is such thing as "good man," there would not be any universal concept. Different cultures...different people have different understanding of what a good man is.
Anyhow, there is no such thing as a "good" man or a "bad" man. It is undoubtedly impossible to identify a person as one or the other. Human have both qualities, not specifically meaning anything good nor bad, that balance out each person. We don't live in a fairy tale world where everything is black and white. Although some people may have more of one quality than the other, that doesn't make the person good or bad. A person has too many qualities, that it is impossible to explain in one word. Also bad qualities can be good in some circumstances and vice versa. In other words, the environment makes one quality look good or bad and even one quality cannot be completely defined as being good nor bad.
A good man is not hard to find...they are impossible to find. It is impossible to classify one person with one word. A person is so much worth than one adjective.
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