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


            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. 

Sunday, December 9, 2012

Wish I wa-as... ho-oo-meward bou-ou-ound


2010. Palestinian American literary theorist and cultural critic Edward Said has written that “Exile is strangely compelling to think about but terrible to experience. It is the unhealable rift forced between a human being and a native place, between the self and its true home: its essential sadness can never be surmounted.” Yet Said has also said that exile can become “a potent, even enriching” experience. Select a novel, play, or epic in which a character experiences such a rift and becomes cut off from “home,” whether that home is the character’s birthplace, family, homeland, or other special place. Then write an essay in which you analyze how the character’s experience with exile is both alienating and enriching, and how this experience illuminates the meaning of the work as a whole. Do not merely summarize the plot.


            Defining a home for Jane in Charlotte Bronte’s novel Jane Eyre is difficult in and of itself. Is Gateshead mansion, where she grew up alone and browbeaten, her home? Is Lowood, the school that shaped not only her knowledge but her ideology, her true home? Or is Thornfield, the home of her true love and the first place she experiences true happiness her real home? Of course, one must consider that she only truly suffered when she left Thornfield. Jane departed from Gateshead and Lowood with nary a backward glance or a despondent thought, but she described leaving Thornfield as akin to cutting out her own heart. Truly, then, at least for Jane, Thornfield is her home, because it is where her heart lies. Her exile from Thornfield is self imposed—but that doesn’t make it any less traumatic or upsetting, especially considering her position in the world. When she leaves Thornfield, she leaves behind her source of income, her shelter, and any friends she ever made, but she gains a self sufficiency that is crucial to bringing about her own happy ending, and to emphasizing the moral undertones of the story.
            In the three days directly following her exile, Jane suddenly turns from a respectable governess in a high-class home to a beggar woman, living at the whim of nature and depending on the generosity of complete strangers. In each place she wanders, she is denied employment, but she herself is unsurprised, claiming that because no one knew who she was, they were justified in mistrusting her. Because she left Thornfield so abruptly, she has no proof of identity or character that would aid her in finding the work she needs. Even when she does find asylum in the kind arms of the Rivers family, she still feels a sense of otherness as one who is relatively uneducated, and completely dependent. While she has genuine affection for the Rivers, she is certain that that affection cannot be requited until she is responsible for her own well being.
            The Rivers family, however, turn out to be Jane’s one true blessing. When Jane, who grew up a friendless orphan in a lonely house, discovers that the Rivers siblings are, in fact, her cousins, she is beyond ecstatic. Their initial charity to her is now justified, and there is a legitimate bond tying her to other members of the human race-- something that Jane has always longed for and never truly had. Along with the news of new relatives, Jane inherits an exorbitant amount of money, making her financially independent as well. Had she not set out from Thornfield in order to save herself, none of this knowledge could possibly have reached her. While her exile brought her near the brink of death, Jane gained not only a fresh start, but a renewed sense of self, and an assurance of security in the world that prove invaluable as she decides to return to her old home and see what has become of Rochester.
            Jane’s self imposed exile was not meant to be a reward, in her eyes. She left Thornfield fleeing temptation, rather than seeking a new life, and the sacrifice did not go unfelt. Even as she grew into a self-sustaining person away from her old home, she still mourned the absence of love in her life. The choice to leave Thornfield is the first pivotal choice Jane must make with regards to her own moral code, and because she chose correctly according “the laws given by God and sanctioned by Man” she is rewarded with another choice to make. When Saint John proposes to her, she must chose based on another set of rules- her personal beliefs about love and marriage. Her second pivotal choice, then, is to deny Saint John and return to her home; something she would not have had the strength to do had she not left it in the first place.
            

Monday, December 3, 2012

Death of a Man Sale... Sale of a Deathman... A Man Sale of Death... you get the idea


Summary:
Death of a Salesman follows the last days of the Salesman himself, Willy Loman, a man who has aged kicking and screaming, and lives half his life in hallucinatory flashbacks to better days where his sons Biff and Happy idolized him and his wife Linda smiled more. Back in cruel reality, however, things are far less idyllic. Biff has returned after living a vagrant life, and cannot hold down a job. Happy is working a banal desk job trying to work his way up through the corporate ranks, and has become a womanizer with no meaningful relationships. Willy himself is off of his actual pay, instead working only on commission, and is horribly abusive to Linda, who sticks her head so deep in the sand she could probably find fossilized dinosaurs. Through Willy’s flashbacks, we slowly learn the reason that the family is in the disarray that it is. We meet Willy’s vastly more successful brother Ben, who offered to take Willy with him on his journey to success. Willy didn’t accept the invitation, and missed out on Ben’s wealth. We also see Willy interact with his boys, instilling values of form over function into them, and encouraging laissez-faire attitudes about personal responsibility and hard work. Even as Bernard warns Willy about making Biff start studying and stop stealing, Willy brushes him off. Everyone ignores Happy. Biff’s personal failures also contribute to the family chaos, but the most notable issue is the failed math class, meaning Biff did not graduate high school. He could have redeemed himself over a summer course, but refused when he discovers that Willy is cheating on his mother with another woman in Boston. As things in the flashbacks get progressively worse, so too do the issues of the later dates. In the end, Willy kills himself by driving his car off a bridge, hoping to not only give his sons a good start with the insurance money but also to prove, by way of a lavish funeral, that he was known and loved. No one attends but the family.

Style:
One of our articles pointed out that Arthur Miller took a break from his usual basis of realistic and well-crafted dialogue to create a more surreal work, and I remember thinking nothing but ‘why.’ One of the things that made The Crucible an amazing read was its ability to force people to relate to characters that had been dead for hundreds of years. Salesman is completely absent of that trait, which made it a much less enticing read, at least for me. There is a sense of defeatism about the whole play, and Willy Loman is a walking tone shift, able to take a stable moment and holler away any sanity he had, and any patience I had left with him. Although Miller definitely succeeded at creating a more modern style work, I would not necessarily deem it a good choice in the first place.
Since this is a drama and there is no narration, the most important considerations to make have to do with the staging and setting and other features unique to dramas, and the most important of those in this work is the ‘wall-less house.’ This aspect was completely lost in the movie, but having actors go through wall lines in the flashbacks to the past is a choice that sends a very clear indicator each time it happens. One thing that I noticed as right before the “Requiem” is all the characters exit through the wall line of the kitchen. This action alone places the entire end of the play outside the realm of reality, which serves to justify the dialogue of the Requiem itself, which basically serves as an entire section summarizing each character’s opinions as they had already been expressed.
The symbolism in Salesman is also essential to understanding the work. Even the background music given in the stage directions is an important consideration- each time a flute plays, for example, becomes relevant when it is revealed that Willy’s father sold flutes. When Willy gives his mistress in Boston a pair of stockings, Linda’s mending them in the next scene becomes all the more painful because they stand for sexual relationships and her femininity- both of which apparently need fixing in the Loman household. The seeds Willy plants near his end and the end of the play, in dirt that can’t keep grass alive, are not only symbolic of his desire to improve life for his sons, but also provide a clear signal that such a desire is doomed to failure.
As far as imagery goes, the lighting in Salesman is integral to understanding the work. The golden halo around Biff at the end of Act One, the harsh glare of the radiator Willy was considering as suicide, but most especially the shadows of buildings in the background representing the city and serving as the “forest on fire” that Willy refers to once or twice in his ravings. Shadows of leaves appear during flashbacks, reminding the audience of the calmer more natural setting that was once there, and at the end of the play the last things to be seen are the overhanging buildings, surrounding and trapping our main characters. The lighting, truly, is what sets the despondent tone of Salesman in stone.

Quotes:
Ben: “Why boys, when I was seventeen I walked into the jungle, and when I was twenty-one I walked out. And by God I was rich”
  • This statement is essentially Willy’s goal for his two sons- semi instant prosperity and fulfillment. Interestingly enough, in the minds of both men, prosperity can only be reached by material wealth (Ben also likes to talk about diamonds that can be held and touched). The problem is, Willy has no idea how to achieve that goal himself, and his guesses prove to be completely wrong. The constant repetition of ‘the jungle’ also underscores an interesting commentary on the corporate world, and how it isn’t far separated from the more brutal jungle that Ben gained his success in.
Linda: “Willy Loman never made a lot of money. His name was never in the paper. He’s not the finest character that ever lived. But he’s a human being, and a terrible thing is happening to him. So attention must be paid.”
  • Again, this line sets up money (alongside fame) as the only measures of human success, ignoring the more interpersonal levels that happiness can take. What it also does, though, as add a prayer for human dignity. Linda expresses Miller’s feelings about the common man, and how nobility can still be found in those who have not achieved success in the eyes of the world.
Charley: “Willy was a salesman. And for a salesman, there is no rock bottom to the life. . . He’s a man way out there in the blue, riding on a smile and a shoeshine. And when they start not smiling back—that’s an earthquake. And when you get yourself a couple of spots on your hat, and you’re finished. Nobody dast blame this man. A salesman is got to dream, boy.”
  • Charley’s little rant at the end of the play essentially serves as the cliffs notes for those who weren’t paying attention the whole way through. He discusses the difference between tangible and intangible successes, and along the way, points out several themes of the play. Notably, he addresses the importance of outward appearance, something Willy always stressed above all else. He also talks about the assignment of blame, which no character in the play is comfortable assigning or taking on. Charley absolves Willy completely in this speech-, which is not to say that he should be agreed with.

Theme:
            Death of a Salesman serves as a warning that it is not always possible to fix what has been broken.

            The Loman family is undoubtedly broken. Willy’s suicidal and out of work, Happy is desperate for any kind of attention, Biff is essentially a hobo, and Linda favors mothering her husband over mothering her actual children. All of these problems have clearly defined causes, as the play slowly reveals, but the problem is always what to do about the problems.
            In some cases, the characters are reluctant to even admit that a problem exists. Willy is particularly guilty of this, even in the past ignoring heavy warnings about Biff’s truancy and inability to apply himself. Linda, too, refuses to acknowledge Willy’s suicide attempts as a serious issue. Instead, she enables him to keep that option open in a misguided attempt to save his dignity in lieu of his life. Biff, in fact, is the only character who consistently insists that there are problems, and tries over and over to bring them up for discussion.
            It is only in the second act, and only then after Biff makes his disastrous meeting with Bill Oliver clear, that Willy realizes that his life may not be what it was cracked up to be. He has many conversations with Ben about what to do to make Biff see who he truly is, but most notably, he purchases several packs of seeds. He plants these seeds in ground that cannot possibly grow them, in an attempt to justify his life. Everyone else, be they characters in the story or audience members watching can understand the futility of the gesture, but Willy persists.
            None of Willy’s attempts to fix the problems he himself created end up coming to fruition. His garden doesn’t grow. His funeral is barely attended. Biff doesn’t go into business with the insurance money provided by Willy’s death. Everything that Willy did was too little, too late, and in the end he failed to break the never ending cycle of failure that the Loman family is trapped in. 

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Response to Course Materials 4- The Revenge

I still don't like death of a salesman. I read the actual play, watched the full movie, got to discuss and break down every symbol and pattern of meaning, and the creepy incestuous relationships, and I still don't like it. Generally, I think the whole class was on board with this particular vein of thought. You are free to like it if you so choose, but I can't bring myself to do it. When we read the articles, the one I agreed with most was the one about the incestuous relationships, simply because that author was as sick as I am already of the canonization of Willy Loman as some kind of saint when really, he's a deranged and unstable man who ruined his own life and the lives of those around him. What I was surprised by is how this whole experience has changed my opinion of Miller. I fell in love with The Crucible, but as I read Miller's comments on his own work, they struck me as incomplete and just generally a bit off. He obviously has a clear definition, for example, of a tragic hero, but I personally don't think that he created one in Willy. (Also- what kind of guy writes analytical essays about his own works? Seriously).

Even our discussions of Salesman were a little bit flat, at least to me. When we talked about The American Dream it was hard to get us to shut up, but I felt that we all just ran out of things to say. The play just saps the life out of the atmosphere around it, and doesn't invite discussion so much as it does silent personal reflection on just how awful life can be sometimes.

Also, while I can appreciate the leading themes that tie all our works together in a coherent structure, from American wealth grabbing and family issues to American wealth grabbing and family and tragedy to family issues and tragedy that we've now arrived at with Hamlet, reading two commentaries on the concept of the American Dream with very similar outlooks on its effectiveness is enough to drive anyone bonkers. There's something to be said about variety as much as there is to be said about consistency.

Still, we've moved on from 1950's America and rocketed ourselves back in time to Shakespeare's very own imagined Denmark and the political swamp that it entails. The whole lesson on tragedy was excellent to gain perspective, but I'm still finding it kind of hard to absorb it all into something that I can apply right off of the bat to get a picture of what Elizabethan audiences would be expecting or feeling at any given development. Because of this, I'm grateful that Ms. Holmes is taking time out every now and again to explain the nuances, because Shakespeare really doesn't make much sense any other way. I am also pretty desperate to figure out Ophelia and her motivations.

I'm not sure how pleased I am that we're reading it aloud, though. No offense meant to any of you reading this, of course- it's just that none of us are professional actors and Shakespeare is hard. And if it's read wrong, it doesn't make any sense. And if I have to keep looking down at footnotes and trying to follow along to someone else's pace, or fumbling my own lines whenever I talk, it just makes it very hard to conceptualize what's actually happening, and I'm fairly sure I'd get a better idea of Hamlet if we all just watched it and read along, but ah well. Participation is still fun.