Well Ceremony is a big old slog.
Not an unpleasant slog, or one I didn't appreciate, but boy howdy it is one dense piece of work. I was sent into a trance while trying to annotate it at three in the morning, and all that ever seemed to matter were colors and shapes.
(Whenever I see a circle now, I get traumatic flashbacks).
I do think there's a point, especially in more modern literature where repetition and fragmentation are both things that turn up a lot, where having a requisite amount of annotations gets a little absurd. Especially especially in a book like Ceremony, where it has a narrative structure that folds in on itself, and tells the same story with different names several dozen times. Trying to find new things to say is like finding a needle in a hay farm, and by about halfway through the book I felt that I had a strong enough handle on it to render any extra comments kind of unnecessary.
Still, there were things in Ceremony that I truly enjoyed, and I genuinely appreciate the message it tries to send about balance in life, between the races as well as within one's own self. I think the exercise we did comparing the different colonial writings from the textbook really plays into this, because there is a wide range of ideals in terms of racial interaction between the dominant and repressed cultures, and Silko's beliefs are the ones that I feel most comfortable agreeing with. This probably has a lot to do with the fact that as the dominant culture, I'm not entirely comfortable with retaliatory eradication, but I think I'm allowed to have that concern.
We may have just been pressed for time, but I feel like we were kind of uninspired, as far as our discussion of Ceremony went. It felt like Ms. Holmes was always trying to lead us to the idea that Silko wasn't saying 'all white people are awful and must die', but that was a point that I had picked up on my first read through, so the idea wasn't as revolutionary as I think it was supposed to be, at least to me. I can't vouch for anyone else.
Overall, Ceremony kind of just whelmed me.
(How morally reprehensible is it to go to the multiple choice practice just for the donuts? I do really well filling in bubbles, but I really can't resist)
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Hate the sin, love the trig
1979. Choose a complex and important character in a novel or
a play of recognized literary merit who might on the basis of the character's
actions alone be considered evil or immoral. In a well-organized essay, explain
both how and why the full presentation of the character in the work makes us
react more sympathetically than we otherwise might. Avoid plot summary.
He lies. He coerces a young girl into becoming his bride, without
telling her he’s already married. He manipulates this girl, making her jealous
by pretending to love another. He’s the only man this girl has ever known
personally. He treats those that displease him with uniform scorn, he has lived
a life of debauchery for several years, and he has mood swings. Yet, because we
see him through the eyes of a woman who loves him with all her heart, we cannot
despise Mr. Rochester from Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre.
Even as the woman who loves him, Jane is open about
Rochester’s faults from the beginning. She notes his brusque nature from their
first meeting as strangers, and goes on to describe him as sarcastic,
secretive, and moody. Rochester for his part, is frank with his faults to Jane,
telling her that he has not lived as purely as he would have liked, and about
the truth of Adele Varens. This small honesty, despite how much it conceals, is
still enough for him to earn a reader’s trust. Beyond even his admissions,
though, Jane is perceptive enough to see that there is a dark secret somewhere
in his past, and yet as a narrator she only expresses the desire to delve
deeper into Rochester’s past. She transforms his negative qualities into a
mystery that intrigues the reader, rather than the repellant forces they could
be. In Jane’s eyes, his faults and foibles are mere ‘seasonings’ that make him
more appealing, and this carries through beyond the pages.
Despite the interest he provides, Rochester’s
treatment of Jane should make him the villain of the story, but knowing Jane’s
story from her beginnings as a timid young girl, the positive changes that he
brings onto her are apparent. Even before their love is found to be mutual,
Jane’s spirits heighten after befriending him. She laughs more, is freer to
speak, and no longer feels trapped in a dull and pointless life—part of her
personality that was proven to be subdued only by worthwhile friends. Once they
become engaged, Jane blooms even further, and Rochester’s positive effects on
her are cemented. Since the sympathy of the audience lies with Jane, it is
impossible to dislike anyone who improves her emotional state, regardless of
their moral neutrality.
All of the hinting and secrets lead
up to the reveal of Bertha mason at Jane’s would-be wedding, and Rochester
tells Jane his story from his marriage to meeting her. They key to Rochester’s
absolution in the eyes of the audience then lies with Jane’s reaction; she
doesn’t blame or fault him, so neither does the audience. Rather than anger at
a treacherous man, Jane paints a picture of desolation, with herself dying to
ease his pain and Rochester suffering the loss he knows is inevitable. This
sympathy, through Jane’s eyes, allows the reader to understand Rochester’s
seeming betrayal in his own words, and while he is still morally wrong, he is
not meant to provoke hate.
The most obvious reason for the balanced portrayal of Rochester as a
character is, of course, that he is Jane’s soul mate, and a romance doesn’t
work if one half of the couple is despicable. However, the sympathetic
portrayal given to Rochester also represents the shedding of traditional
dealings with those who do wrong. If Jane, with her ethics carved into her
heart, can forgive this sinning deceitful man, can still love him entirely,
then why should anyone else do otherwise? Jane Eyre is a character with the
ability to love the sinner and hate the sin, the same doctrine that Helen Burns
gave her so long ago. Being put in her shoes invites sympathy for sinners as a
whole. Rochester isn’t inherently evil to Jane, he is a man that circumstances
have worked against. Jane Eyre as a
novel casts a sinning man as a victim, which challenges the entire morality of
the time period and insists that that which is evil can still be redeemed.
Monday, March 11, 2013
An infinite number of monkeys jumping on the bed, one fell off and bumped his....
Summary:
It is a rollicking day in purgatory, when two English gentlemen by the name of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (although no one can be sure which is which) are sitting on stage, tossing coins. It soon becomes clear that the world in which they abide doesn't work by the rules of most other places, as each successive coin toss comes up heads, over and over and over and over and over again. We quickly learn what little there is to know about the state of our protagonists, (most notably that they were sent for), and then they are overtaken on the road by a troupe of players, who offer rather salacious services. Guildenstern is offended, Rosencrantz intrigued, and poor Alfred is offered up like a piece of meat.
Then we are given our first scene from Hamlet, where Rosencrantz and Guildenstern slide effortlessly into Shakespearean language when talking to Claudius and Gertrude, who give them the token lines and provide a purpose for them. Hamlet has been transformed, they say. Discover what ails him and draw him on to pleasures. Our protagonists are excited by the new development, and more than pleased to have a reason for existing and a cause to work towards, although it is clear that they could use a little instruction in terms of how to enact it. They practice, a little, playing a cyclical and unbelievably deep game of questions with each other, and proving definitively that neither of them is sure whose name is whose. This, of course, is completely inadequate preparation for their first tete a tete with Hamlet, who makes himself look like a massive jerk by stringing along the two men who, while they were ratty spies in the play Hamlet, are now the center of our sympathies.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are aware that Hamlet has played them, giving their own account of the encounter in terms of the questions game. Then they lose the sun, and cannot determine the direction of the wind. There is a brief, coin tossing interlude, and then the Player reappears, to determine their progress with Hamlet, and to berate the pair for abandoning the actors to perform without an audience, claiming that it ruined their own sense of reality. Guildenstern, somehow recognizing the Player's comfort with the dual reality that our protagonists are struggling with, begs the Player for some answers, and gets none. The Player then helps them hash out Hamlet's weaknesses, in a way that makes it very clear that Hamlet is not meant to be mad.
The Player departs, and Rosencrantz has a long, foreshadowy monologue about death that deeply upsets Guildenstern. Then Claudius and Gertrude intrude, and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern bluff their way through another scene from Hamlet, insisting that they know of Hamlet's troubles. There is an interesting entrance and exit of Hamlet and Ophelia's confrontation, and then the Players reappear to rehearse. The play they give is an obvious pantomime of Hamlet that goes up to what is shown in the play, only to be interrupted by the end of Hamlet's verbal abuse of Ophelia. The player's rehearsal continues afterward to extend to the deaths of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern themselves, prompting an anxious retaliation from Guildenstern about the true nature of death.
Once the arguing over death is done, Claudius commands the two to seek out Hamlet, since Hamlet has slain Polonius. They fail to secure him, and lie to Claudius, only to have Hamlet appear on cue, and then depart with Hamlet to England.
This is yet another death fakeout, where Rosencrantz and Guildenstern awake in total darkness on a boat, unsure of where they are precisely, but are at least relieved to know where they are going. Yet again they lose the sun, and their sense of time, but they are bolstered by the idea of their purpose as it was stated within Hamlet. They practice once more, this interaction with the King of England, and in their haste, open the letter and learn that Hamlet is to be put to death. They argue, then, about what to do. Rosencrantz's naivete wanting to spare a declared friend, and Guildenstern's desperate need for control of his life insisting that nothing be changed. Despite it all, though, Hamlet switches the letters. The next day, the Players make an appearance as stowaways, as do the magical plot device pirates. Hamlet escapes, and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern must go on alone, and they once again discover the change of letters.
The Player insists that they die, and this angers Guildenstern so much that he attempts to slay the Player with his own knife-- a fake actor's knife that doesn't wound him at all. Slowly, though, all characters vanish but Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Rosencrantz gives up and leaves Guildenstern alone, and Guildenstern is quick to follow, but the play does not end with their exit from the stage. Instead, it ends as Hamlet does, with Horatio's noble speech and the slightly eerie music of the Players.
Relevant Characters:
Rosencrantz:
Rosencrantz is the heart to Guildenstern's head. He is naive, worldly, and above all else, practical. While Guildenstern attempts to talk his way in and around their various problems, Rosencrantz is capable of cutting through issues with startling finesse, even if his character's actions tends more toward the 'bumbling fool' type. Rosencrantz understands more than he thinks he does, but the real crux of his persona is his lack of worry. He can't remember whose name is whose, but it doesn't bother him the way it does Guildenstern. His responses to stresses are more openly emotional, especially when he gets worried- he will cry, and express a desire to return 'home'-- wherever home may be.
Guildenstern:
Guildenstern should not be mistaken for the unfeeling half of the pair. He tends to be hasty, anxious, and makes valiant attempts at being cerebral. Occasionally his words cut Rosencrantz, but Guildenstern is not removed from all feeling. Quite the opposite- all the anxiety of the play rests on him to express, try as he might to hide it. It is Guildenstern who has several monologues about the permanence of death, and all of his extended attempts to explain the laws of the universe around them grow increasingly frantic, and have an air of desperation about them. Guildenstern is almost abandoned by Rosencrantz's apathy, and is the only one left to worry and question the bizzarre state of affairs that results form being side characters in a notable work.
The Player: The only one of the Tragedians with lines, the Player has the air of knowledge about them. As much as he attempts to guide Rosencrantz and Guildenstern through the play, he spends an equal amount of time abandoning them and allowing them to make bumbling mistakes. He shows no kindness towards them, but there is a strange sort of sympathy that obviously provokes him into helping them. They tend to reject his advice, Guildenstern especially, due to the nature of his work as an actor/pimp, and this clearly pricks the Player's pride. Still, he is shown to be the most adept at living in a half world, with his fake deaths and his knowledge of the future as shown by the play the tragedians themselves put on.
All the other characters with significant lines are carryovers from Hamlet.
Style
Most dramatic works have no narrative voice, which is what makes Stoppard's work so interesting. At points in R&G, the stage directions are so involved that not only is the play incomprehensible if you cannot follow them while reading (I recall one moment in my annotations going ARE THEY UPSTAGE OR DOWNSTAGE THIS IS NECESSARY INFORMATION) but the play reads like a novel sometimes. Even when the stage directions are very direct, often there will be instructions for one character embedded in the lines of another character, causing dialogue mixups, confused pauses, and a lot of chaos; which I think is exactly what Stoppard wanted. The meta!commentary that gets directed in first read throughs adds yet another level to the dramatic matryoshka created by having a play about two characters in a play that end up watching a play about the play they're in that the play they're in is based off of, and works towards Stoppard's attempts to create a feel of chaotic meaninglessness.
Stoppard leans on a lot of symbolism to make his points about life and drama and Shakespeare, including but not limited to the sun as it stands in for their lives as well as an absent God they cannot locate, the constant repetition of the idea of 'heads' to remind the audience that reality is merely collective acceptance, and the music that always accompanies the Tragedians and the transition between Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's side world and the world of Hamlet.
What always has to make things absurdist, however, is the sense that nothing was truly accomplished. R&G is rife with circular conversations, dialogue repeated word-for-word from previous encounters, and a sense in the end that the curtain will rise on another Rosencrantz and Guildenstern the next day, which makes their noble deaths entirely meaningless in the end. Another element of absurdism that R&G has is the feeling of anxiety, but interestingly enough, this anxiety is concentrated completely in Guildenstern's character, making it stand out against the more experienced Player, and the unfluttered Rosencrantz. This localization of the anxious nature of humanity not only makes it stand out, but reinforces the running joke of the play- that no one, not even themselves, can tell Rosencrantz and Guildenstern apart. By giving them distinct personalities, Stoppard gives them an identity separate from their name, but by switching actors mid-play and never having a completely correct introduction, an audience that is anything less than alert will not only miss who is who and be forever confused, but have a sense of guilt for not being able to tell between two obviously different men.
This all, of course, furthers my working thesis that Stoppard had a grudge against his audience.
Quotes
It is a rollicking day in purgatory, when two English gentlemen by the name of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (although no one can be sure which is which) are sitting on stage, tossing coins. It soon becomes clear that the world in which they abide doesn't work by the rules of most other places, as each successive coin toss comes up heads, over and over and over and over and over again. We quickly learn what little there is to know about the state of our protagonists, (most notably that they were sent for), and then they are overtaken on the road by a troupe of players, who offer rather salacious services. Guildenstern is offended, Rosencrantz intrigued, and poor Alfred is offered up like a piece of meat.
Then we are given our first scene from Hamlet, where Rosencrantz and Guildenstern slide effortlessly into Shakespearean language when talking to Claudius and Gertrude, who give them the token lines and provide a purpose for them. Hamlet has been transformed, they say. Discover what ails him and draw him on to pleasures. Our protagonists are excited by the new development, and more than pleased to have a reason for existing and a cause to work towards, although it is clear that they could use a little instruction in terms of how to enact it. They practice, a little, playing a cyclical and unbelievably deep game of questions with each other, and proving definitively that neither of them is sure whose name is whose. This, of course, is completely inadequate preparation for their first tete a tete with Hamlet, who makes himself look like a massive jerk by stringing along the two men who, while they were ratty spies in the play Hamlet, are now the center of our sympathies.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are aware that Hamlet has played them, giving their own account of the encounter in terms of the questions game. Then they lose the sun, and cannot determine the direction of the wind. There is a brief, coin tossing interlude, and then the Player reappears, to determine their progress with Hamlet, and to berate the pair for abandoning the actors to perform without an audience, claiming that it ruined their own sense of reality. Guildenstern, somehow recognizing the Player's comfort with the dual reality that our protagonists are struggling with, begs the Player for some answers, and gets none. The Player then helps them hash out Hamlet's weaknesses, in a way that makes it very clear that Hamlet is not meant to be mad.
The Player departs, and Rosencrantz has a long, foreshadowy monologue about death that deeply upsets Guildenstern. Then Claudius and Gertrude intrude, and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern bluff their way through another scene from Hamlet, insisting that they know of Hamlet's troubles. There is an interesting entrance and exit of Hamlet and Ophelia's confrontation, and then the Players reappear to rehearse. The play they give is an obvious pantomime of Hamlet that goes up to what is shown in the play, only to be interrupted by the end of Hamlet's verbal abuse of Ophelia. The player's rehearsal continues afterward to extend to the deaths of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern themselves, prompting an anxious retaliation from Guildenstern about the true nature of death.
Once the arguing over death is done, Claudius commands the two to seek out Hamlet, since Hamlet has slain Polonius. They fail to secure him, and lie to Claudius, only to have Hamlet appear on cue, and then depart with Hamlet to England.
This is yet another death fakeout, where Rosencrantz and Guildenstern awake in total darkness on a boat, unsure of where they are precisely, but are at least relieved to know where they are going. Yet again they lose the sun, and their sense of time, but they are bolstered by the idea of their purpose as it was stated within Hamlet. They practice once more, this interaction with the King of England, and in their haste, open the letter and learn that Hamlet is to be put to death. They argue, then, about what to do. Rosencrantz's naivete wanting to spare a declared friend, and Guildenstern's desperate need for control of his life insisting that nothing be changed. Despite it all, though, Hamlet switches the letters. The next day, the Players make an appearance as stowaways, as do the magical plot device pirates. Hamlet escapes, and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern must go on alone, and they once again discover the change of letters.
The Player insists that they die, and this angers Guildenstern so much that he attempts to slay the Player with his own knife-- a fake actor's knife that doesn't wound him at all. Slowly, though, all characters vanish but Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Rosencrantz gives up and leaves Guildenstern alone, and Guildenstern is quick to follow, but the play does not end with their exit from the stage. Instead, it ends as Hamlet does, with Horatio's noble speech and the slightly eerie music of the Players.
Relevant Characters:
Rosencrantz:
Rosencrantz is the heart to Guildenstern's head. He is naive, worldly, and above all else, practical. While Guildenstern attempts to talk his way in and around their various problems, Rosencrantz is capable of cutting through issues with startling finesse, even if his character's actions tends more toward the 'bumbling fool' type. Rosencrantz understands more than he thinks he does, but the real crux of his persona is his lack of worry. He can't remember whose name is whose, but it doesn't bother him the way it does Guildenstern. His responses to stresses are more openly emotional, especially when he gets worried- he will cry, and express a desire to return 'home'-- wherever home may be.
Guildenstern:
Guildenstern should not be mistaken for the unfeeling half of the pair. He tends to be hasty, anxious, and makes valiant attempts at being cerebral. Occasionally his words cut Rosencrantz, but Guildenstern is not removed from all feeling. Quite the opposite- all the anxiety of the play rests on him to express, try as he might to hide it. It is Guildenstern who has several monologues about the permanence of death, and all of his extended attempts to explain the laws of the universe around them grow increasingly frantic, and have an air of desperation about them. Guildenstern is almost abandoned by Rosencrantz's apathy, and is the only one left to worry and question the bizzarre state of affairs that results form being side characters in a notable work.
The Player: The only one of the Tragedians with lines, the Player has the air of knowledge about them. As much as he attempts to guide Rosencrantz and Guildenstern through the play, he spends an equal amount of time abandoning them and allowing them to make bumbling mistakes. He shows no kindness towards them, but there is a strange sort of sympathy that obviously provokes him into helping them. They tend to reject his advice, Guildenstern especially, due to the nature of his work as an actor/pimp, and this clearly pricks the Player's pride. Still, he is shown to be the most adept at living in a half world, with his fake deaths and his knowledge of the future as shown by the play the tragedians themselves put on.
All the other characters with significant lines are carryovers from Hamlet.
Style
Most dramatic works have no narrative voice, which is what makes Stoppard's work so interesting. At points in R&G, the stage directions are so involved that not only is the play incomprehensible if you cannot follow them while reading (I recall one moment in my annotations going ARE THEY UPSTAGE OR DOWNSTAGE THIS IS NECESSARY INFORMATION) but the play reads like a novel sometimes. Even when the stage directions are very direct, often there will be instructions for one character embedded in the lines of another character, causing dialogue mixups, confused pauses, and a lot of chaos; which I think is exactly what Stoppard wanted. The meta!commentary that gets directed in first read throughs adds yet another level to the dramatic matryoshka created by having a play about two characters in a play that end up watching a play about the play they're in that the play they're in is based off of, and works towards Stoppard's attempts to create a feel of chaotic meaninglessness.
Stoppard leans on a lot of symbolism to make his points about life and drama and Shakespeare, including but not limited to the sun as it stands in for their lives as well as an absent God they cannot locate, the constant repetition of the idea of 'heads' to remind the audience that reality is merely collective acceptance, and the music that always accompanies the Tragedians and the transition between Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's side world and the world of Hamlet.
What always has to make things absurdist, however, is the sense that nothing was truly accomplished. R&G is rife with circular conversations, dialogue repeated word-for-word from previous encounters, and a sense in the end that the curtain will rise on another Rosencrantz and Guildenstern the next day, which makes their noble deaths entirely meaningless in the end. Another element of absurdism that R&G has is the feeling of anxiety, but interestingly enough, this anxiety is concentrated completely in Guildenstern's character, making it stand out against the more experienced Player, and the unfluttered Rosencrantz. This localization of the anxious nature of humanity not only makes it stand out, but reinforces the running joke of the play- that no one, not even themselves, can tell Rosencrantz and Guildenstern apart. By giving them distinct personalities, Stoppard gives them an identity separate from their name, but by switching actors mid-play and never having a completely correct introduction, an audience that is anything less than alert will not only miss who is who and be forever confused, but have a sense of guilt for not being able to tell between two obviously different men.
This all, of course, furthers my working thesis that Stoppard had a grudge against his audience.
Quotes
- Ros: "Life in a box is better than no life at all"
- This quote is Rosencrantz in a nutshell. While he understands the nature of his existence, as one that is trapped not only within the confines of a narrative he doesn't understand, but a different box on the stage, and perhaps even a third paper box with covers on either side, he has at least pretended to accept it. This whole monologue in which Rosencrantz mulls over death evokes the idea that this, for him, is indeed the moment in childhood in which one realizes one won't live forever. It encompasses, essentially, a lot of the different spectrums under the microscope in this play, that of differing realities, that of the permanence of death, and that of the growth from childhood into adulthood.
- Player: "Audiences know what to expect, and that is all that they are prepared to believe in"
- Stoppard is completely inconsiderate of his audience, or rather, considerate of ways to make his audience uncomfortable. From having a character shout "Fire!" to constantly reminding the audience that yes, they are a group of people watching two men in costume prance about the stage, Stoppard intends audiences to be one step removed, and this quote quite effectively pushes people away from their immersion in the happenings on stage. This, too, also addresses the idea of what is truly 'real', especially when taken in conjunction with the Player's fake death much later on. Is acting truly authentic, if it is only what people expect anything to look like? Can anyone still living truly act out death? After all, they've never experienced it, as Guildenstern is about to explain to us.
- Guil: ". . . Death is not anything. . . death is not. . . It's the absence of presence, nothing more . . . the endless time of never coming back. . . "
- This definition of death as a permanent exit plays into the dramatic (as in, theater) aspects of R&G. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern never leave the stage, in all the play thus far. There are blackouts and costume shifts, but never do they truly make an exit to the wings- until Rosencrantz leaves Guildenstern, and Guildenstern follows. Since this exit and lack of return has been defined for us as death, true death, it gives the moment weight and poignance, and gives an odd sense of finality to a play where reality is questioned so often, and the cyclical nature of everything is frequently confirmed. Such an ending, then, feels to the audience like a real ending-- but that feeling itself causes them to question what has actually transpired in the play, and leaves them once again with a sense of incompleteness and a massive, unanswered question.
Theme:
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Response to Course Materials: Reawakening
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern gave me little seizures of sympathy for them, and that is just about the highest praise I could grant them.
We also had some really good insights as we discussed this work in class, and I feel like I have a very solid understanding of the work as a whole. I was also very pleasantly surprised with the movie, and I'll keep the rant about 'good things happen when you let the author have some creative direction of the movie' down to that one sentence. Every now and then Stoppard would play up some things that I hadn't noticed, or thought were irrelevant. I almost felt, actually, that Rosencrantz was played to be a little bit too clown-ish, but I suppose it all went into making the emotional aspect of the play more poignant, and since I was already embroiled in the characters it felt extraneous to me.
While it's nice to be writing more closed prompts, I feel like fate is out to screw us all over. First we had a substitute teacher who was very lax with instructions, then we were interrupted by pizza box stacking underclassmen, and I don't think we've ever sat down and written one out without previous discussion and a lot (a LOT) of hand holding. The practice was great, but in past experience, the only way to feel truly secure about something hard is to throw yourself to the wolves beforehand so that the actual test doesn't feel like it's difficult. I've had that done to me for instrumental things, and in past AP's and it has worked every single time, so in its absence I'm getting kind of twitchy.
I also have a hugely bad habit in my essay writing that I am finding it impossible to shake. I tend to write a thesis, barf up my evidence, and then warrant it all in the second to last paragraph. In theory I understand the basic structural needs of an essay, but I don't think I have ever managed to fulfill them naturally on a first draft. Even with this closed prompt, when I was actively thinking about it, I got peer-scored a 5, which was a bit of a blow to my pride. Hopefully the edit will be better, although I can honestly make no promises. I think I just assume my train of thought should be clear by the evidence I provide. Or something.
It's just very hard to fix something in a timed scenario that you can't possibly notice yourself doing until you've edited it about 3 days later.
On a happier note, I'm enjoying Ceremony thus far. Truth be told I could sit and listen to Native American (or any kind of) legends all day and be perfectly content, so the context for this book was awesome to hear about, and being able to catch it immediately afterward was pretty satisfying, even if we were kind of led into it by the nose. Again, though, I suffered the problem of being-read-aloud-to and not being able to stop and think and digest in my own time.
Maybe one day I'll get tired of circling circles in the novel and the colors will wear me out, but for now I'm excited to read more of Ceremony- although good grief it's a fast turnaround to read an entire book in less than a week when 2 other huge assignments were also due in the same class.
Cough.
We also had some really good insights as we discussed this work in class, and I feel like I have a very solid understanding of the work as a whole. I was also very pleasantly surprised with the movie, and I'll keep the rant about 'good things happen when you let the author have some creative direction of the movie' down to that one sentence. Every now and then Stoppard would play up some things that I hadn't noticed, or thought were irrelevant. I almost felt, actually, that Rosencrantz was played to be a little bit too clown-ish, but I suppose it all went into making the emotional aspect of the play more poignant, and since I was already embroiled in the characters it felt extraneous to me.
While it's nice to be writing more closed prompts, I feel like fate is out to screw us all over. First we had a substitute teacher who was very lax with instructions, then we were interrupted by pizza box stacking underclassmen, and I don't think we've ever sat down and written one out without previous discussion and a lot (a LOT) of hand holding. The practice was great, but in past experience, the only way to feel truly secure about something hard is to throw yourself to the wolves beforehand so that the actual test doesn't feel like it's difficult. I've had that done to me for instrumental things, and in past AP's and it has worked every single time, so in its absence I'm getting kind of twitchy.
I also have a hugely bad habit in my essay writing that I am finding it impossible to shake. I tend to write a thesis, barf up my evidence, and then warrant it all in the second to last paragraph. In theory I understand the basic structural needs of an essay, but I don't think I have ever managed to fulfill them naturally on a first draft. Even with this closed prompt, when I was actively thinking about it, I got peer-scored a 5, which was a bit of a blow to my pride. Hopefully the edit will be better, although I can honestly make no promises. I think I just assume my train of thought should be clear by the evidence I provide. Or something.
It's just very hard to fix something in a timed scenario that you can't possibly notice yourself doing until you've edited it about 3 days later.
On a happier note, I'm enjoying Ceremony thus far. Truth be told I could sit and listen to Native American (or any kind of) legends all day and be perfectly content, so the context for this book was awesome to hear about, and being able to catch it immediately afterward was pretty satisfying, even if we were kind of led into it by the nose. Again, though, I suffered the problem of being-read-aloud-to and not being able to stop and think and digest in my own time.
Maybe one day I'll get tired of circling circles in the novel and the colors will wear me out, but for now I'm excited to read more of Ceremony- although good grief it's a fast turnaround to read an entire book in less than a week when 2 other huge assignments were also due in the same class.
Cough.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Re'bird'thed
1984. Select a line or so of poetry, or a moment or scene in
a novel, epic poem, or play that you find especially memorable. Write an essay
in which you identify the line or the passage, explain its relationship to the
work in which it is found, and analyze the reasons for its effectiveness.
Speaking from experience, it is incredibly easy to forget things. Names,
faces, birthdays, mathematical formulas, atomic numbers, phone numbers, and
appointment times all slip easily through the cracks in the human mind. In
order for something to be memorable, it needs to hold emotional weight or
personal relevance; the brain doesn’t hold on to details that the subconscious
finds unimportant. Storage space is limited, so when a line from a work sticks
in deeply, it must be highly relevant. Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet has worked its way into the collective consciousness
of Western culture, but the lines exchanged between the two lovers as Romeo
departs after wooing Juliet on her balcony are especially memorable because
they serve not only to characterize the pair, but also to heavily foreshadow
their fate.
The average person could probably recite ‘parting is such sweet sorrow,’
but in this case, the lines directly preceding it are far more notable:
ROMEO: I would I were
thy bird
JULIET:
Sweet, so would I.
Yet I should kill
thee with much cherishing.
They are exchanged at an emotionally loaded moment. Juliet
and Romeo have just declared their love, and since Juliet is constantly interrupted
and fluttering to and from the conversation, their farewell is extended for
quite some time. Romeo’s tendency
to variance and mood swings has already been established by the time this scene
arrives, but it is still an instrumental indicator that he is far too
headstrong for his own good. Having met and kissed Juliet only once previously,
he sneaks onto the grounds of his family’s sworn enemy and proposes to marry
her, which is enough proof on its own. The way he does it also contributes to
the image- for example, swearing his love on the moon which (as Juliet is quick
to point out) is ever changing, and often used as an excuse for reckless and
crazy behavior. He shows a slavish devotion to Juliet, throwing himself totally
at her feet and wishing to be her pet bird, completely on her string and ruled
by her entirely. The balcony scene shows Romeo for what he is- a young boy who
is completely ruled by his emotions. He is willing to be governed, not only by
his own whims, but by those of his lady-love, coming at her call and vowing to
stay until she dismisses him.
Juliet, for her part, is
established as the more practical one, demanding that Romeo ‘swear not by the
moon’ and worrying that she will seem too forward and make him lose interest
her. She is also the one, in the end, to suggest he marry her if his love is
true and faithful- ensuring her own security. Sadly, she falls to Romeo’s
charms and converts to his whimsy, her initial fears transforming to a proposal
of marriage and the same verbose adulation that Romeo uses so often. Juliet’s
practicality can partially be attributed to the location of this exchange. If
she were caught with a man in her room at night un-chaperoned, the consequences
for her would be devastating. While Romeo is unbothered by the risk, Juliet
does much to conceal him, and worries than Romeo thought it through in the
first place. It is she, after all, who delivers the death stroke of
foreshadowing “I should kill thee with much cherishing.” With that line alone,
she reveals her own introspective abilities, and a clearer eye to the future
than Romeo.
The phrase ‘kill thee with much cherishing’ is a massive clue
that everything will not go smoothly for our star-crossed lovers. It is grim
language for a thirteen-year-old girl, and it also proves that Juliet is highly
cognizant of her own nature. Having just agreed to marry him, Juliet suddenly
expresses fear that she would love Romeo too much, as a spoiled child loves its
pet bird, that she would kill him because of it. They are her parting words to
him- a warning- that her emotions will come to be too strong, and destroy him.
Romeo answers with a wish for her to sleep and be at peace, which is eerily
reminiscent of their ultimate fate when Juliet’s fake sleep takes on the appearance
of death (or, eternal peace) and leads him to his death- another sentiment
expressed in this grim farewell.
Of course, from the beginning of the narrator’s introduction to ‘fair
Verona’ the audience knows the fate of Romeo and Juliet, but there are still
clues sprinkled throughout the play that the pair is doomed. Without those
intermittent hints, the play would not have survived as a piece of literature,
because it would have bored audiences to tears. A fated death is tragic, but one
in which the reasons are evident earns the interest, and therefore the memory
of the audience. While Shakespeare could have left all of the explanation and
subtle reasoning out of his play and attributed it all to fate, he was wise
enough to see that clever characterization and beautiful language would also be
necessary to make not only the balcony scene, but Romeo and Juliet as a whole,
worthy of remembrance.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Response to Course Materials: Ressurection
Wow, it's been a while since we've had one of these, eh? We've finished Hamlet, done our finals, dealt with some multiple choice craziness, and started a new play.
I still feel like Hamlet and I have unfinished business. As I was writing my summary and analysis, I felt kind of incomplete. With the other two texts, we had enough discussion time to flesh out a group wide vision of the play, and especially with The American Dream, I felt very sure with my comments on the work. As we've gone on, I've been working off of speculation more and more. Even though I know that in lit, nothing is ever 'wrong' ect., it's still a little worrying to have to make a blind conjecture about the theme or meaning of a work and then support it. Overall, though, I enjoyed Hamlet. I didn't feel the same disdain for him that some people seemed to-- all of his reactions and his waiting felt natural to me. Of course, this is the same girl who is 100% convinced she is Nick Carraway, so keep in mind I'm actually just boring and wishy washy to begin with. I remember at the beginning of our study of Hamlet, we were asked to decide if this was Shakespeare's version of 'Saw 13' or an actual dramatic triumph. Now, this is another thing we let fall by the wayside with our discussion, but in general I'd say that while Hamlet borrows a lot from Shakespeare's other plays, it still offers such a wide range of guessing games that it has literary merit.
Our finals were just stupidly fun. I can understand and sympathise with kids who maybe didn't like acting, but trust me, if you get into it? It's great. Erin and I acted as Hamlet and Gertrude respectively, in their confrontation, and maybe I'm biased because I read her part in class, but it is way, way easier to play her as sympathetic towards Hamlet. Plus, I got to throw myself on the floor and fake cry.
And we had costumes.
I don't have a whole lot to say about the multiple choice? I knocked them out of the park, generally, and I'm really not worried about that portion of the test. What I am worried about, though, and I'd say I'm not alone in this, are the essays. Especially the closed prompt. I recall a lot of confused questioning, a lot of double meaning in prompts, and getting graded as a 5 on the sample essay I wrote. And that was what, 3 months ago? If I had to pick an area that I felt unsure in, those essays would definitely be it. Even the open prompt practice we're getting here feels a little like hollering into the void and only getting a couple of halfhearted affirmations back.
Finally, we started Rozencrantz and Guildenstern and I will spare you the long winded rant about how much I love that play. What is kind of interesting, I have found, is how freakin' difficult it is to analyze a piece as you are reading it. I love being able to participate that way, but the things you notice as you try to scan for your own lines are few and far between. You also tend to develop a bias towards your own character (this is less of a problem since we switched halfway through, heh) and it's hard to step outside those shoes and look at the work as a whole.
Still, though, I love this play. I love how it has inside jokes with those who read the script, I love how even our own commentary when some of the stage directions are weird add a dimension to the play that still suits it, I love how it plays tricks on the audience, I love the wordplay, I love Rozencrantz and Guildenstern's absolute and heartrending codependency and their singleminded devotion to their only goal in the world and I just. Agh. Every time we stop reading, I don't want it to be over. I'm honestly eager to annotate this so I can start forming my own opinions of the work and pulling things out for myself, rather than frantically circling things as I speak.
So I suppose everything's coming up roses. I wonder if there are any decent recordings of performances of this? It probably loses something outside of a theater setting.
I still feel like Hamlet and I have unfinished business. As I was writing my summary and analysis, I felt kind of incomplete. With the other two texts, we had enough discussion time to flesh out a group wide vision of the play, and especially with The American Dream, I felt very sure with my comments on the work. As we've gone on, I've been working off of speculation more and more. Even though I know that in lit, nothing is ever 'wrong' ect., it's still a little worrying to have to make a blind conjecture about the theme or meaning of a work and then support it. Overall, though, I enjoyed Hamlet. I didn't feel the same disdain for him that some people seemed to-- all of his reactions and his waiting felt natural to me. Of course, this is the same girl who is 100% convinced she is Nick Carraway, so keep in mind I'm actually just boring and wishy washy to begin with. I remember at the beginning of our study of Hamlet, we were asked to decide if this was Shakespeare's version of 'Saw 13' or an actual dramatic triumph. Now, this is another thing we let fall by the wayside with our discussion, but in general I'd say that while Hamlet borrows a lot from Shakespeare's other plays, it still offers such a wide range of guessing games that it has literary merit.
Our finals were just stupidly fun. I can understand and sympathise with kids who maybe didn't like acting, but trust me, if you get into it? It's great. Erin and I acted as Hamlet and Gertrude respectively, in their confrontation, and maybe I'm biased because I read her part in class, but it is way, way easier to play her as sympathetic towards Hamlet. Plus, I got to throw myself on the floor and fake cry.
And we had costumes.
I don't have a whole lot to say about the multiple choice? I knocked them out of the park, generally, and I'm really not worried about that portion of the test. What I am worried about, though, and I'd say I'm not alone in this, are the essays. Especially the closed prompt. I recall a lot of confused questioning, a lot of double meaning in prompts, and getting graded as a 5 on the sample essay I wrote. And that was what, 3 months ago? If I had to pick an area that I felt unsure in, those essays would definitely be it. Even the open prompt practice we're getting here feels a little like hollering into the void and only getting a couple of halfhearted affirmations back.
Finally, we started Rozencrantz and Guildenstern and I will spare you the long winded rant about how much I love that play. What is kind of interesting, I have found, is how freakin' difficult it is to analyze a piece as you are reading it. I love being able to participate that way, but the things you notice as you try to scan for your own lines are few and far between. You also tend to develop a bias towards your own character (this is less of a problem since we switched halfway through, heh) and it's hard to step outside those shoes and look at the work as a whole.
Still, though, I love this play. I love how it has inside jokes with those who read the script, I love how even our own commentary when some of the stage directions are weird add a dimension to the play that still suits it, I love how it plays tricks on the audience, I love the wordplay, I love Rozencrantz and Guildenstern's absolute and heartrending codependency and their singleminded devotion to their only goal in the world and I just. Agh. Every time we stop reading, I don't want it to be over. I'm honestly eager to annotate this so I can start forming my own opinions of the work and pulling things out for myself, rather than frantically circling things as I speak.
So I suppose everything's coming up roses. I wonder if there are any decent recordings of performances of this? It probably loses something outside of a theater setting.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Just an extended metaphor for syphilis...
A (not so) Brief Rundown:
Act 1: It's the highly symbolic changing of the guard, and in that time of night a ghost appears to two guards and their friend Horatio, who was there because he wouldn't believe the ghost existed until he saw it with his own eyes. After the ghost vanishes, they have a long discussion about the socio-political happenings of the area to get the audience up to speed, and we learn about Old Hamlet and Old Fortinbras, and young Fortinbras' bid to take back the land his father lost. There's a lot of foreshadowing, and they decide to tell young Hamlet about the ghost. Then we see Claudius and Gertrude, being happy and carefree, and we see Hamlet raining on everyone's parade. When everyone leaves, he talks a lot about how much his life sucks and how his mother is a whore, et cetera, until his old friend Horatio shows up and tells him about the ghost. Hamlet agrees to go see it that night. Then, we cut to a different family-- Polonius' children, Laertes and Ophelia. Laertes is going on a long journey back to school in France, and he reminds Ophelia not to sleep with Hamlet. Then Polonius gives the 'never a borrower' speech, and bids Laertes farewell. When Laertes leaves, Polonius tells Ophelia not to sleep with Hamlet, and goes even farther, telling her to refuse to see him. Then, finally, we see Hamlet with the guards, and the ghost appears. He follows it, and it explains that Claudius killed it and asks Hamlet to enact his revenge. When the guards catch up to them, Hamlet makes them swear to secrecy not to reveal his plan to act crazy. For some reason.
Act 2: We open with Polonius instructing his servant to spy on his son in an incredibly roundabout manner, casting doubt on the healthiness of their family's relationship. Then Ophelia runs in, talking about Hamlet running into her closet and acting crazy. Polonius decides that this is because Hamlet is crazy with love, and resolves to tell the King and Queen about it. When we see the King and Queen, they are speaking to Rozencrantz and Guildenstern, who they instruct to spy on Hamlet to see what has disturbed him. They depart, and Polonius enters, with his news. Before Polonius can say anything, Voltimand returns with word from Norway, Fortinbras' uncle-- who has successfully stopped Fortinbras from invading Denmark, instead sending him to Poland. This point settled, Polonius shares his news about Hamlet's supposed lovesickness, reads one of his letters to Ophelia aloud, and insists that they spy on Hamlet and Ophelia together. Hamlet arrives, and he and Polonius have a loaded exchange, and Polonius departs defeated. Then it is Rozencrantz and Guildensterns' turn to take a crack at figuring out Hamlet, but Hamlet senses that they aren't working out of kindness, and shuts them out. Then, the players enter, bringing with them a whole host of symbolism. Hamlet jests with them, gives a monologue, and is given a monologue in return. When everyone leaves, Hamlet has a massive monologue where we learn he intends to tell if Claudius is guilty based on Claudius' reaction to the play.
Act 3: This begins with Rozencrantz and Guildenstern discussing Hamlet's actions with the king and queen. All but the King, Polonius, and Ophelia leave, and they set their trap for Hamlet to see if love is truly behind his madness. Hamlet enters with his famous "to be or not to be" speech, and he and Ophelia fight instead of make up. When it's clear that love is not behind Hamlet's madness, Polonius recommends that Gertrude should talk to Hamlet, to see if she can figure out what's wrong. Claudius agrees. Then we see Hamlet rehearsing with the players, bossing them around right before the show. Rozencrantz, Guildenstern, and Horatio show up. Hamlet tells Horatio to watch the king for signs of guilt. Everyone else files in, Hamlet rather aggressively flirts with Ophelia, and then the play begins. The play is basically the backstory to Hamlet: Brother kills king, takes his wife, &c. Then a dialogue between a dying king and his loving wife. Finally, as Lucianus (a character in the play within a play) pours poison into his brother's ear, the King gets fed up and leaves. Hamlet and Horatio determine the king's guilt, Hamlet yells at Rosencrantz and Guildenstern when they come to summon him to his mother. It is only when Polonius summons him, that Hamlet consents to go. He dismisses everyone, and has another monologue. In his own room, the King speaks to Rozencrantz and Guildenstern, and decides to send Hamlet away with them to England. Polonius enters, reminds the King that Hamlet will talk to Gertrude, and exits, and the King is left alone to monologue about his own guilt and corrupted soul. Hamlet sneaks in as Claudius begins praying, but decides not to kill him, instead going in to talk to his mother. They fight, Hamlet kills Polonius, they fight some more, the ghost shows up, and then Hamlet leaves.
Act 4: Gertrude reports to the King that Hamlet is truly nuts, that he killed Polonius, and the King reassures her that he's sending him away. He sends Rozencrantz and Guildenstern to go apprehend Hamlet, they return with him, and the King interrogates him. He is sent to board a ship, and when he gets to the docks, he meets Fortinbras, his very own foil. Fortinbras' men are off to claim some podunk chunk of Poland, and this pointless act of war inspires Hamlet to be a man of action. Back in Elsinore, Ophelia goes crazy, sings her loaded songs about pregnancy and betrayal. A messenger runs by with the news that Laertes has heard of Polonius' death, and, blaming Claudius, has begun a revolution. He storms in, threatening the King's life, and is slowly calmed down when he learns that Claudius wasn't Polonius' murderer. Ophelia enters again, bestowing flowers to all around, and breaking Laertes' heart. Then Horatio gets the news about Hamlet and the *~*~magical plot device pirates~*~* and goes to bring him back. As Horatio leaves, the King and Laertes discuss what Hamlet's fate was meant to have been when word comes that Hamlet yet lives. They hatch a plan to kill him, with a poison blade during an innocuous duel. Then Gertrude enters, with news of Ophelia's death-by-drowning.
Act 5: Two grave diggers discuss the socio-political reasons for Ophelia being buried in the church despite her suicide. Hamlet talks about dead kings and reminisces about poor Yorick. Ophelia is buried, and Laertes and Hamlet get into a fight about who mourns her more. Back in Elsinore, Hamlet and Horatio talk, Hamlet is summoned to the duel, and he makes his peace with death, much to Horatio's dismay. The duel with Horatio begins, and quickly gets out of hand as Claudius poisons a glass of wine as a plan B. Gertrude drinks the wine, both Hamlet and Horatio are cut with the poison blade, and Hamlet forces Claudius to drink his own poison. Horatio himself almost kills himself at the end, but is stopped by Hamlet. In the end, Fortinbras, who is simply passing through, is given the throne of Denmark, and gives Hamlet a soldier's funeral.
An actually brief character analysis:
Hamlet: Our protagonist, the possibly-crazy Prince of Denmark. He's a thinker not a doer, and it is made clear that we see him at the low end of his life. Prior to having his life apparently ruined, he was a scholar, and he is unsuited to the fate given to him. Still very much a child.
Claudius: A murderer, but not a happy one. He killed his brother for the throne, and for the right to marry Gertrude. but life is not all roses for him, especially once Hamlet begins to track him down.
Gertrude: Hamlet's mother. She's not as easy to pin down, because her character depends largely on acting choices. It seems at least that she still loves her son, but she did not hesitate to marry Claudius.
Ophelia: Hamlet's girlfriend of old. She goes insane (maybe) when her father Polonius dies, and it is heavily insinuated that she is pregnant, and Hamlet is the father. Her life is basically ruined when Hamlet goes crazy, and she drowns herself in the end.
Laertes: Ophelia's brother. Ends up killing Hamlet, with a poisoned blade, in order to take revenge of his father's death and his sister's suicide, but regrets it in the end and exposes the King as a traitor.
Horatio: The one true friend that Hamlet has left at the end. He's stable and unwilling to believe things he hasn't seen himself. He is one of the only characters left alive at the end of the play, and shares Hamlet's story with Fortinbras.He is probably dating Hamlet.
Style
The thing about discussing Shakespeare's style is that most of it has already been said (iambic pentameter rhyming couplets extended metaphors and time-specific political jokes, essentially). Within the actual content of his extended metaphors and rhyming couplets, however, there are a lot of recurring ideas. An image that often gets thrown around is the idea of the ear; characters are frequently told to listen, Hamlet calls Claudius a blistered ear, ect, to remind the reader of the cause of King Hamlet's death. Similarly, there is a lot of language with connotations of rot and decay, corruption and filth, and so forth. From the moment it is declared that 'something is rotten in the state of Denmark,' no one can drop the idea of decay and filth. Hamlet is especially fond of discussing weakness and corruption. He also frequently uses pregnancy words, references conception, and expresses disdain towards Ophelia for her interest in him. All that contributes to the idea that the entire royal house, and by extension the kingdom itself, is corrupted beyond repair.
There are very few objects actually denoted in Hamlet for characters to have, another problem with discussing Shakespeare. Many directors, though, picking up on textual clues, litter the sets with mirrors-- because Hamlet has trouble discerning what is real. They are an added symbol, but a fitting one nonetheless. The four elements, however, are frequently referenced, particularly water, standing in for madness. When Ophelia drowns herself after going crazy, Laertes remarked that she had too much water. Gertrude describes Hamlet's insanity as being similar to the air meeting the ocean. Snakes are another subtle symbol-- King Hamlet was purportedly killed by a snake, who was in reality Claudius. Hamlet relates Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to adders. Snakes are an oblique reference to the devil, and especially with King Hamlet's death in a garden, the image contributes to an idea of a fallen Paradise, that has been, as the diction I mentioned earlier indicates, hopelessly corrupted.
Keeping all of this in mind, the tone of Hamlet isn't about to set you skipping. The whole play is intensely fatalistic, Horatio dropping approximately 4 'this is foreshadowing' words in the first scene of the entire thing. Hamlet, too, insists that his destiny calls him when he goes to confront the ghost, and his belief in fate carries through to the very end when he makes his peace with death, claiming that even if it isn't going to happen now, it will happen eventually. Everything contributes to give a general feeling that nothing could have been prevented, no matter what was changed, and Hamlet's insistence on the horrors of the world around him cast a gloom over the play regardless of whether or not the reader gives him credence.
Quotes:
Act 1: It's the highly symbolic changing of the guard, and in that time of night a ghost appears to two guards and their friend Horatio, who was there because he wouldn't believe the ghost existed until he saw it with his own eyes. After the ghost vanishes, they have a long discussion about the socio-political happenings of the area to get the audience up to speed, and we learn about Old Hamlet and Old Fortinbras, and young Fortinbras' bid to take back the land his father lost. There's a lot of foreshadowing, and they decide to tell young Hamlet about the ghost. Then we see Claudius and Gertrude, being happy and carefree, and we see Hamlet raining on everyone's parade. When everyone leaves, he talks a lot about how much his life sucks and how his mother is a whore, et cetera, until his old friend Horatio shows up and tells him about the ghost. Hamlet agrees to go see it that night. Then, we cut to a different family-- Polonius' children, Laertes and Ophelia. Laertes is going on a long journey back to school in France, and he reminds Ophelia not to sleep with Hamlet. Then Polonius gives the 'never a borrower' speech, and bids Laertes farewell. When Laertes leaves, Polonius tells Ophelia not to sleep with Hamlet, and goes even farther, telling her to refuse to see him. Then, finally, we see Hamlet with the guards, and the ghost appears. He follows it, and it explains that Claudius killed it and asks Hamlet to enact his revenge. When the guards catch up to them, Hamlet makes them swear to secrecy not to reveal his plan to act crazy. For some reason.
Act 2: We open with Polonius instructing his servant to spy on his son in an incredibly roundabout manner, casting doubt on the healthiness of their family's relationship. Then Ophelia runs in, talking about Hamlet running into her closet and acting crazy. Polonius decides that this is because Hamlet is crazy with love, and resolves to tell the King and Queen about it. When we see the King and Queen, they are speaking to Rozencrantz and Guildenstern, who they instruct to spy on Hamlet to see what has disturbed him. They depart, and Polonius enters, with his news. Before Polonius can say anything, Voltimand returns with word from Norway, Fortinbras' uncle-- who has successfully stopped Fortinbras from invading Denmark, instead sending him to Poland. This point settled, Polonius shares his news about Hamlet's supposed lovesickness, reads one of his letters to Ophelia aloud, and insists that they spy on Hamlet and Ophelia together. Hamlet arrives, and he and Polonius have a loaded exchange, and Polonius departs defeated. Then it is Rozencrantz and Guildensterns' turn to take a crack at figuring out Hamlet, but Hamlet senses that they aren't working out of kindness, and shuts them out. Then, the players enter, bringing with them a whole host of symbolism. Hamlet jests with them, gives a monologue, and is given a monologue in return. When everyone leaves, Hamlet has a massive monologue where we learn he intends to tell if Claudius is guilty based on Claudius' reaction to the play.
Act 3: This begins with Rozencrantz and Guildenstern discussing Hamlet's actions with the king and queen. All but the King, Polonius, and Ophelia leave, and they set their trap for Hamlet to see if love is truly behind his madness. Hamlet enters with his famous "to be or not to be" speech, and he and Ophelia fight instead of make up. When it's clear that love is not behind Hamlet's madness, Polonius recommends that Gertrude should talk to Hamlet, to see if she can figure out what's wrong. Claudius agrees. Then we see Hamlet rehearsing with the players, bossing them around right before the show. Rozencrantz, Guildenstern, and Horatio show up. Hamlet tells Horatio to watch the king for signs of guilt. Everyone else files in, Hamlet rather aggressively flirts with Ophelia, and then the play begins. The play is basically the backstory to Hamlet: Brother kills king, takes his wife, &c. Then a dialogue between a dying king and his loving wife. Finally, as Lucianus (a character in the play within a play) pours poison into his brother's ear, the King gets fed up and leaves. Hamlet and Horatio determine the king's guilt, Hamlet yells at Rosencrantz and Guildenstern when they come to summon him to his mother. It is only when Polonius summons him, that Hamlet consents to go. He dismisses everyone, and has another monologue. In his own room, the King speaks to Rozencrantz and Guildenstern, and decides to send Hamlet away with them to England. Polonius enters, reminds the King that Hamlet will talk to Gertrude, and exits, and the King is left alone to monologue about his own guilt and corrupted soul. Hamlet sneaks in as Claudius begins praying, but decides not to kill him, instead going in to talk to his mother. They fight, Hamlet kills Polonius, they fight some more, the ghost shows up, and then Hamlet leaves.
Act 4: Gertrude reports to the King that Hamlet is truly nuts, that he killed Polonius, and the King reassures her that he's sending him away. He sends Rozencrantz and Guildenstern to go apprehend Hamlet, they return with him, and the King interrogates him. He is sent to board a ship, and when he gets to the docks, he meets Fortinbras, his very own foil. Fortinbras' men are off to claim some podunk chunk of Poland, and this pointless act of war inspires Hamlet to be a man of action. Back in Elsinore, Ophelia goes crazy, sings her loaded songs about pregnancy and betrayal. A messenger runs by with the news that Laertes has heard of Polonius' death, and, blaming Claudius, has begun a revolution. He storms in, threatening the King's life, and is slowly calmed down when he learns that Claudius wasn't Polonius' murderer. Ophelia enters again, bestowing flowers to all around, and breaking Laertes' heart. Then Horatio gets the news about Hamlet and the *~*~magical plot device pirates~*~* and goes to bring him back. As Horatio leaves, the King and Laertes discuss what Hamlet's fate was meant to have been when word comes that Hamlet yet lives. They hatch a plan to kill him, with a poison blade during an innocuous duel. Then Gertrude enters, with news of Ophelia's death-by-drowning.
Act 5: Two grave diggers discuss the socio-political reasons for Ophelia being buried in the church despite her suicide. Hamlet talks about dead kings and reminisces about poor Yorick. Ophelia is buried, and Laertes and Hamlet get into a fight about who mourns her more. Back in Elsinore, Hamlet and Horatio talk, Hamlet is summoned to the duel, and he makes his peace with death, much to Horatio's dismay. The duel with Horatio begins, and quickly gets out of hand as Claudius poisons a glass of wine as a plan B. Gertrude drinks the wine, both Hamlet and Horatio are cut with the poison blade, and Hamlet forces Claudius to drink his own poison. Horatio himself almost kills himself at the end, but is stopped by Hamlet. In the end, Fortinbras, who is simply passing through, is given the throne of Denmark, and gives Hamlet a soldier's funeral.
An actually brief character analysis:
Hamlet: Our protagonist, the possibly-crazy Prince of Denmark. He's a thinker not a doer, and it is made clear that we see him at the low end of his life. Prior to having his life apparently ruined, he was a scholar, and he is unsuited to the fate given to him. Still very much a child.
Claudius: A murderer, but not a happy one. He killed his brother for the throne, and for the right to marry Gertrude. but life is not all roses for him, especially once Hamlet begins to track him down.
Gertrude: Hamlet's mother. She's not as easy to pin down, because her character depends largely on acting choices. It seems at least that she still loves her son, but she did not hesitate to marry Claudius.
Ophelia: Hamlet's girlfriend of old. She goes insane (maybe) when her father Polonius dies, and it is heavily insinuated that she is pregnant, and Hamlet is the father. Her life is basically ruined when Hamlet goes crazy, and she drowns herself in the end.
Laertes: Ophelia's brother. Ends up killing Hamlet, with a poisoned blade, in order to take revenge of his father's death and his sister's suicide, but regrets it in the end and exposes the King as a traitor.
Horatio: The one true friend that Hamlet has left at the end. He's stable and unwilling to believe things he hasn't seen himself. He is one of the only characters left alive at the end of the play, and shares Hamlet's story with Fortinbras.
Style
The thing about discussing Shakespeare's style is that most of it has already been said (iambic pentameter rhyming couplets extended metaphors and time-specific political jokes, essentially). Within the actual content of his extended metaphors and rhyming couplets, however, there are a lot of recurring ideas. An image that often gets thrown around is the idea of the ear; characters are frequently told to listen, Hamlet calls Claudius a blistered ear, ect, to remind the reader of the cause of King Hamlet's death. Similarly, there is a lot of language with connotations of rot and decay, corruption and filth, and so forth. From the moment it is declared that 'something is rotten in the state of Denmark,' no one can drop the idea of decay and filth. Hamlet is especially fond of discussing weakness and corruption. He also frequently uses pregnancy words, references conception, and expresses disdain towards Ophelia for her interest in him. All that contributes to the idea that the entire royal house, and by extension the kingdom itself, is corrupted beyond repair.
There are very few objects actually denoted in Hamlet for characters to have, another problem with discussing Shakespeare. Many directors, though, picking up on textual clues, litter the sets with mirrors-- because Hamlet has trouble discerning what is real. They are an added symbol, but a fitting one nonetheless. The four elements, however, are frequently referenced, particularly water, standing in for madness. When Ophelia drowns herself after going crazy, Laertes remarked that she had too much water. Gertrude describes Hamlet's insanity as being similar to the air meeting the ocean. Snakes are another subtle symbol-- King Hamlet was purportedly killed by a snake, who was in reality Claudius. Hamlet relates Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to adders. Snakes are an oblique reference to the devil, and especially with King Hamlet's death in a garden, the image contributes to an idea of a fallen Paradise, that has been, as the diction I mentioned earlier indicates, hopelessly corrupted.
Keeping all of this in mind, the tone of Hamlet isn't about to set you skipping. The whole play is intensely fatalistic, Horatio dropping approximately 4 'this is foreshadowing' words in the first scene of the entire thing. Hamlet, too, insists that his destiny calls him when he goes to confront the ghost, and his belief in fate carries through to the very end when he makes his peace with death, claiming that even if it isn't going to happen now, it will happen eventually. Everything contributes to give a general feeling that nothing could have been prevented, no matter what was changed, and Hamlet's insistence on the horrors of the world around him cast a gloom over the play regardless of whether or not the reader gives him credence.
Quotes:
- Hamlet: "Seems, madam! Nay, it is; I know not "seems." 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, nor customary suits of solemn black. . . That can denote me truly: these indeed seem, For they are actions that a man might play."
As I have mentioned, Hamlet is horrible at distinguishing what is real from what is represented, and he has an even worse time understanding that sometimes those two things are one and the same. A lot of what makes him suspect those around him (even if his suspicion is not reasonless) is his inability to accept anyone's outward displays of emotion. Although he vouches for the veracity of his own sorrow in this quote, he also informs us all that people certainly can and do fake emotions, which is a big freaking clue that he won't trust those around him.
- Hamlet: "Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel?"
We get a couple interesting tidbits here. This involves Hamlet discussing the fate of great kings, and subconsciously the fate of his father, who he knows to be walking in Purgatory. Alongside the subconscious fear and possible revulsion Hamlet truly has for his father, Alexander's less-than-great fate is explained. It also tips a hat to Hamlet's religious bent, referencing the 'from dust we came, and to dust we shall return' factor of religion. Since the play could be considered Hamlet's long long journey to acceptance of his own death, this commentary on the transience of greatness (the journey from a conqueror to a beer-bottle stopper) is definitely a step in the process. What is the point of conquering and earning greatness if all that is left of you on Earth will end up with a menial fate?
- Ophelia: "Methinks this imparts the meaning of the play"
I will never get tired of talking about how meta Hamlet is, because it is so very, very meta. This line, dropped as it is while the characters we are watching in a play watch other characters in a play that were crafted to be a deliberate echo of the characters that we also recognize as characters, is almost a subtle hint that the people we are watching are semi aware of their role. Hamlet drops constant hints in his dialogue about acting, putting on plays, about art and pictures and there's a moment when talking to the players where he instructs them to be more lifelike, which is a very odd scene to put into a play itself. This, however, is the one specific quote that provides the biggest hint towards the fourth wall breaking nature of Hamlet as a play.
Theme:
Hamlet is a play about the inevitability of decay.
When we first hear Hamlet explain that he is going to pretend to be crazy, we all cringe, because we know what's coming next. He's actually going to go crazy, we assume. Either way, from the moment he says that, we know we can no longer trust him completely. Is he fully in control? Or is he just hiding his madness behind the veneer of acting again? This sort of spiral from bad to worse is a common occurrence in the play. From the bad of Claudius poisoning his brother, to the worse of the decay of the state of Denmark and the widespread death of the royal house. From the bad of Polonius' discovery of Ophelia and Hamlet to the worse of Ophelia going mad with despair and killing herself. From the bad of the vague threat of Fortinbras' takeover, to the worse of his eventual control over the kingdom, every single threat that appears to hold water in the beginning of the play simply spirals out of control.
Hamlet also likes to talk about death, about how since death is inevitable life is meaningless, about how Cesar and Alexander, great kings though they may have been, are now dead and dust. This entrenched fatalistic idea Hamlet carries goes far to explain his own inaction. Why kill Claudius and damn his immortal soul if his soul is all that he truly has left to cherish? Why become a king, why conquer a land, why bother continually screwing over Poland, if they can be lost upon your death and granted to your enemy? His priorities have always been set with his death in mind, and he courts death almost from his introduction as a character. He 'does not set his life at a pin's fee' one moment, affirms that only fear prevents suicide the next. Truly, Hamlet never wanted to live, so he sees no reason to devote himself to life when he knows that death is inevitable.
In terms of actual devices, Shakespeare leans very heavily on the foreshadowing stick in this case. From Horatio's friendly reminder about the ghosts that rose in Rome before it's fall, echoing not only the idea that Denmark will fall, but providing a hint to Horatio's insistence that he is 'more an antique Roman than a Dane' to the initial threat of Fortinbras' takeover, Shakespeare warns his characters quite clearly what is about to befall them. The constant mentions of poison, rot, undesirable pregnancy, and elemental madness also contribute to the inevitability and their persistence aids in the feeling of a constant downward spiral.
Again, this is not a happy play.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
More matter, with less art
(original)
1980. A recurring theme in literature is the classic war between a passion and responsibility. For instance, a personal cause, a love, a desire for revenge, a determination to redress a wrong, or some other emotion or drive may conflict with moral duty. Choose a literary work in which a character confronts the demands of a private passion that conflicts with his or her responsibilities. In a well-written essay show clearly the nature of the conflict, its effects upon the character, and its significance to the work.
Living in sin is an outdated concept to those of us living
in the present, but back in the days of corsets and feathered bonnets, the idea
of living as man and wife without being actually married was shocking to say
the least. To a young girl raised from birth to be devoted to the Christian
faith and doctrine, the very idea would be synonymous with degradation and an
assurance of hell in the afterlife. To a young girl hearing this proposal from
a broken man who needs her, who also represents the only chance she has at
bettering her life, the idea is far more tempting. This very scenario, the
choice to throw her principles away for love or to cling to them and suffer, is
presented to Jane Eyre on the very day she was meant to be married, and the choice
she makes defines her character and sets the moral tone of the novel that
shares her name.
Jane’s
true choice is not between purity and ruin; more accurately it is the choice
between her duty to herself and her duty towards Rochester. From their first
conversation, in which they debate about salvation, Jane is established as
Rochester’s moral compass. Her true worry when she leaves him is that he will
collapse into hedonism and damn him. However, Jane still chooses to go, largely
due to the philosophy she learned from Helen Burns in her childhood—that as
destitute and alone as she may become, her first responsibility is to her soul.
In the end, her decision to leave is her recognition of her own value to
herself. Regardless of how much she loves Rochester, she realizes that she
cannot be responsible for both him and herself.
Jane would not be Jane if she bent ‘the laws given
by God and sanctioned by Man’ to her own desires, but that does not mean that
it didn’t cause her pain to leave Rochester. Her decision also ruined any
chance of gaining a second employment—she was stranded without home, income, or
reference of character in an uncaring and mistrusting society. She reaches the
brink of starvation, but that is where the harmful effects begin to reverse
themselves. Because she leaves Rochester’s employment at the same time she ends
her engagement with him, Jane is given the chance to become her own woman, and
discover her own merit. Although she misses him, she constantly affirms that
she would rather be free and lonely than to be a slave to love. In choosing to
leave Jane proves her worth; in her time away she proves her capability.
Jane’s happiness at the end of the work is the true indicator of the
moral nature of Jane Eyre. It affirms
that those who make the right choices will be rewarded. Had Jane chosen the
path that Rochester wanted, she would have become subservient and morally
compromised. Her happiness would have been superficial and it would have
evaporated quickly. Instead, she made her own way into her own life and job,
and came back as an independent woman and an equal contributor to her own
marriage. Not only did she maintain her responsibility to herself as a human
being, she was made aware of her ability to care for Rochester. Jane’s choices
are indicative of her strength as a character, and her choice to leave
Rochester turns the entire book into an argument about willpower, morality, and
marriage in an era where those concepts were seemingly set in stone.
The
events in Jane Eyre are carefully structured so that any given good
thing couldn’t possibly have happened if a bad thing hadn’t happened first. Had
Jane never left Thornfield, she would never have met her cousins on good terms.
Had Jane never left Thornfield, as a matter of fact, she would have been burnt
in her bed by Bertha Mason, a punishment reminiscent of hellfire for a woman
who made the wrong choice even by her own moral code. Jane gains far more than
she loses from her choice to remain true to herself, but her struggles with
herself along the way prevent the novel from being too preachy.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Response to Course Materials: Revolution
As we all run into the home stretch on our Hamlet annotations, I have to say that we spent a whole lot of time on this play. I'm still not done discussing it, though, maybe because I missed a few days here and there, or maybe because we haven't had a whole lot of discussion about the play itself. We've been presented with the mysteries- is Ophelia an innocent maiden or a conniving woman, what's up with Gertrude, is Hamlet truly crazy, and obviously most importatntly: Hamlet and Horatio- are they or aren't they? but we haven't had the opportunity to discuss what we ourselves think based only on the text. We've discussed them in conjunction with the films and their interpretation, but I think it would've been better if we'd had a chance to hash out our own opinions before seeing everyone else's. In case you were wondering about mine- Ophelia totally knows what's up, Gertrude doesn't, I still can't tell I need to talk about it, and yes they are. We've also had the chance to talk in groups about Hamlet's relationship with language, but that isn't a complete discussion of the whole play, and it leaves a lot unsaid.
One thing I really love about Hamlet is the sheer number of comparative characters there are for Hamlet- Fortinbras, Laertes, and Claudius. Similar to the familial situation of the play, with Claudius being Hamlet's uncle/stepfather, and Gertrude's brother in law/husband, ect, everyone's relationship to Hamlet shifts around and multiple characters act in the same role. Laertes, upon hearing of his father's death, RUSHES in and starts a revolution against Claudius in a revenge attempt, and has no compunctions about killing Hamlet until after the act. Hamlet, for all his protestations and flowery speeches about how wonderful and godlike his father was, waffles around for 4 acts and then some, not choosing to kill Claudius until a fit of passion strikes him. Fortinbras, the warlike and hasty prince of France, sends his troops into battle for unnecessary chunks of Poland (It is always Poland. Always), inspiring Hamlet to 'man up'- and not necessarily with positive results. That's part of what made the Branagh Hamlet so interesting, at least to me, was their choice to make Fortinbras' takeover a literal takeover. It definitely upped the foil-ing. Claudius, interestingly enough, is presented as more like Hamlet than unlike him. Hamlet says Claudius is 'no more like [his father] that I am to Hercules' which lumps the two in the same group. They use similar speech patterns. Patrick Stewart's Claudius (which was fantastic, might I add) expresses a lot of remorse for the crime he committed, showing a brooding nature that's similar to Hamlet's. And see there I go talking about the different movies again.
I might as well compare them, while I'm on a roll. As movies, I vastly preferred the Branagh. The hall of mirrors perfectly highlights what I personally see as the biggest theme of Hamlet; the question of the nature of reality and what makes us real. Having a bunch of reflective pretenders to reality floating around all the time really plays that up. Branagh's Hamlet is a little playful, but it does make his endless moping somewhat more bearable, and when he abandons the playful there's a dearth of talented portrayals of madness. His Hamlet is definitely more crazy than the BBC's is, although I applaud his decision to do his monologues facing the audience. That, I think, plays up on the meta nature of Hamlet as a play, which I thought was kind of nuts considering it came from the 1600s. When "I think this imparts the meaning of the play" is an actual line in an actual play, it ought to raise some eyebrows. Hamlet constantly discusses art, treats his life like he's acting it, Ophelia pleads with him to stop his "act" and I might be wrong but that all indicates to me that just about every character is at some level aware they're on stage. When BBC's Hamlet breaks the fourth wall, it's just the icing on the cake.
Obviously, there's a lot that I wish I had the opportunity to discuss in relation to Hamlet.
The only other thing in my notes is the mood/tone/atmosphere heading, and I must say that those exercises are fun, if difficult. As much as I love you guys, I'd rather have things pushed under my fingernails than write in a group, because it's such a long and arduous processand I turn into a huge baby when I don't get my way. It's just too difficult to try and please everybody with every phrase and word, especially when people's visions of the original subject differ. It is definitely helpful to learn how to craft a scene, and its interesting to hear everyone else's opinion and their ideas on how do to what we're attempting to do, but at the same time I flat out refuse to believe that any author actually does that, so the point is rendered half moot to me. I will believe that certain words and phrasings and syntax choices create certain moods, but not that conscious thought was put behind each and every one. It is proving immensely difficult to lose the bugbear of authorial intent, apparently.
One thing I really love about Hamlet is the sheer number of comparative characters there are for Hamlet- Fortinbras, Laertes, and Claudius. Similar to the familial situation of the play, with Claudius being Hamlet's uncle/stepfather, and Gertrude's brother in law/husband, ect, everyone's relationship to Hamlet shifts around and multiple characters act in the same role. Laertes, upon hearing of his father's death, RUSHES in and starts a revolution against Claudius in a revenge attempt, and has no compunctions about killing Hamlet until after the act. Hamlet, for all his protestations and flowery speeches about how wonderful and godlike his father was, waffles around for 4 acts and then some, not choosing to kill Claudius until a fit of passion strikes him. Fortinbras, the warlike and hasty prince of France, sends his troops into battle for unnecessary chunks of Poland (It is always Poland. Always), inspiring Hamlet to 'man up'- and not necessarily with positive results. That's part of what made the Branagh Hamlet so interesting, at least to me, was their choice to make Fortinbras' takeover a literal takeover. It definitely upped the foil-ing. Claudius, interestingly enough, is presented as more like Hamlet than unlike him. Hamlet says Claudius is 'no more like [his father] that I am to Hercules' which lumps the two in the same group. They use similar speech patterns. Patrick Stewart's Claudius (which was fantastic, might I add) expresses a lot of remorse for the crime he committed, showing a brooding nature that's similar to Hamlet's. And see there I go talking about the different movies again.
I might as well compare them, while I'm on a roll. As movies, I vastly preferred the Branagh. The hall of mirrors perfectly highlights what I personally see as the biggest theme of Hamlet; the question of the nature of reality and what makes us real. Having a bunch of reflective pretenders to reality floating around all the time really plays that up. Branagh's Hamlet is a little playful, but it does make his endless moping somewhat more bearable, and when he abandons the playful there's a dearth of talented portrayals of madness. His Hamlet is definitely more crazy than the BBC's is, although I applaud his decision to do his monologues facing the audience. That, I think, plays up on the meta nature of Hamlet as a play, which I thought was kind of nuts considering it came from the 1600s. When "I think this imparts the meaning of the play" is an actual line in an actual play, it ought to raise some eyebrows. Hamlet constantly discusses art, treats his life like he's acting it, Ophelia pleads with him to stop his "act" and I might be wrong but that all indicates to me that just about every character is at some level aware they're on stage. When BBC's Hamlet breaks the fourth wall, it's just the icing on the cake.
Obviously, there's a lot that I wish I had the opportunity to discuss in relation to Hamlet.
The only other thing in my notes is the mood/tone/atmosphere heading, and I must say that those exercises are fun, if difficult. As much as I love you guys, I'd rather have things pushed under my fingernails than write in a group, because it's such a long and arduous process
Sunday, December 16, 2012
'Tis the Season to Deconstruct Belief Paradigms
(fa-la-la-la-la....)
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/14/opinion/what-didnt-happen-in-bethlehem.html?ref=contributors&gwh=8A554D59C49B4A120F86B731F3FF0A9C
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/14/opinion/what-didnt-happen-in-bethlehem.html?ref=contributors&gwh=8A554D59C49B4A120F86B731F3FF0A9C
The
three topics it is considered polite to avoid in a dinner conversation are
money, politics, and religion. Sadly, those three topics not only intermingle
so much that they become inextricable, they are often the most interesting
sources of conversation, but it is also true that the conflict that tends to
arise over those topics often becomes too emotional for a polite dinner.
Religion, especially, is a very personal issue for many people, and directly
insulting or demeaning a person’s religion goes beyond a faux pas and becomes a
personal attack. T. M. Luhrmann,
in his article ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Didn’t Sing’ understands that the issue
he is covering is a sticky one, and deftly avoids stepping on any toes by
keeping his article academic in nature.
The
first indication of this comes in the first paragraph, with a very
sophisticated diction choice. This pattern is continued through Luhrmann’s
entire article, as he follows up ‘transom’ with ‘encyclical’ and ‘lacuna.’ The
density of the words themselves give an indication of the level at which the
article should be read- it is not a casual piece that demands an emotional
response, but one that requires thought and consideration. Even if one were to
try to craft a negative response, Luhrmann uses positive language when
addressing both sides of the issue he is discussing. Rather than painting one
side as right or wrong, he describes the more embellished and imaginative
interpretation of the Bible as ‘enriched’ ‘effective’ and ‘compelling’- all
with positive connotations. To the more literal interpretations, he is less
generous, but because his article discusses why the more vivid experience is
more appealing, it only makes sense. He still respects them, calling their
objections ‘concerns’ instead of using a more pejorative term. Luhrmann’s
choice of words when discussing the issue shows a clear desire to avoid
conflict.
He
also makes his goal clear in the structure of his work. While the introduction
is a lengthy one, not arriving at his thesis until the seventh paragraph when
he explains that ‘anthropology offers some insight into why imaginatively
enriching a text taken as literally true helps some Christians to hang on to
God when they are surrounded by a secular world.’ The next two paragraphs even
use ‘first’ and ‘second’ to introduce themselves as body paragraphs, both with
two analytical guiding sentences at the beginning, and supporting quotes. The
‘claim, evidence, warrant’ format is clearly detectable, and it lends a sense
of credence to his words.
Luhrmann
also has very clear explanations of his background information, providing
details that are not only helpful to bring readers up to speed, but also prove
he has a thorough knowledge of both sides of the issue. He opens with a quick
Cliff’s Notes version of a book written by the Pope discussing the literal
words of the Bible, and ‘that there was neither an ox nor a donkey in the
stable where Jesus was born.’ Luhrmann expresses what would doubtless be the
general response, a sarcastic ‘really’ before continuing his summary and
explaining the Pope’s real message. He also includes quotes from his interviews
with Evangelical leaders and followers alike, explaining their opinion of their
personal connection with God, which he then uses to highlight his own point
that adding personal details, regardless of their correctness, will make a
religion more appealing. While he grants one side more effectiveness, he gives
both arguments equal attention and comprehension, and passes those on to the
reader, who is left to draw their own conclusion based on fact rather than an
initial emotional response.
The
best way to avoid an outcry when discussing a loaded issue is to give each side
an equal voice, and Luhrmann does an excellent job of giving both the literal
and personal interpretations of the Bible their theological dignity. Nowhere
does he try and determine whose interpretation of God is the correct one,
instead choosing a more tangible discourse on which line of thought is most
effective at pulling in and retaining members. While no article is truly
unbiased, Luhrmann’s is, at the least, anti-inflammatory.
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