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Juices Deuxes or Part Two of My Last Post

So basically it's been another long day, but I guess my idea of "gettin' down on Friday" includes blogging. It will be a while before anyone reads this. Whatever. See maybe it’s a problem with the world today, people don’t get what I’m getting at. Or maybe I don’t get what I’m getting at. So in act two I’ll reestablish the main problems here and try to deal with them in a way that I think is effective. 

On that note, let’s take a minute and learn some words; criticism versus critique. See the two are different although some people use them interchangeably, but not my main man Immanuel Kant. See Kant wrote some books, The Critique of Pure Reason was one, and he wasn’t making judgements about people reasoning; Kant was considering what reason is. Kant even wrote about aesthetics which is something I’m critiquing in the literature we’re encountering in AP College English. A critique is “a specific critical commentary or review” criticism is based on value judgements. So I am doing a bit of both because I find much in The God of Small Things ineffective, but that’s because I don’t see it fitting within the realm of effective literature I’m reviewing. And as with morality, aesthetics can be relative, that won’t change the fact that there are clear problems with what’s been laid down in some of these works we’ve gone through. Relativity also won’t change that we can get away with maverick uses of language without pretension or loss of meaning.

Additionally I think I’ve said that my real problem with Beloved was it’s superficiality. I was pontificating, now I’m reflecting, reasoning, reviewing, critiquing. I think it’s the case that Morrison knows what she’s doing when she writes; she may know to well was my point. Similarly, Roy is clearly not any of the authors I mentioned previously—authors I might add who each have their own distinctive style that seems to fit into time tested and respected literature—I don’t see her in that pantheon anytime soon based on this book (that is to say her only book). I don’t see her in that pantheon ever. Unless she pulls off some sort of miracle later (and I have my doubts) she’s just another lady with a book to her name. Screw the Booker Prize.

The critique I’m basing my obviously opinionated opinions off of is that there is a necessary commitment to tone and consistency that an author makes in a work that facilitates the ability of a reader to probe it. This is kind of a thesis, I argued it with the books last night. But I’m taking it as fact here; you’re in part deux now.

The God of Small Things does a lot of things wrong along the lines of consistency and efficacy of it’s language. It piles all the things it tries to do—point of view, changes in time, repetition of themes and phrases, repetition of events even, et cetera—higher to the extent that, if there is something to it all, it’s a needle in a haystack gasping for breath (a mixed metaphor Roy just might use). But some of the more damning aspects of the book are the things it’s done right (I’m on the look out for those too now). Here’s one I kind of like; “She put her rosary back into her blouse where she kept it with her melons” (Roy, 77). See that tells us about the character—her spirituality, her appearance maybe—and it does effectively reflect the point of view of someone brought up in the Syrian Christian system who is also young and snarky. Thumbs up to Roy on this passage. It’s more that she’s already messed up the consistency and structural nature of her story that makes this line a pain in the ass still. Here’s another one I like; “Being interrupted by Phil Donahue was of course entirely different from being interrupted by a subway rumble. It was a pleasure. An honor” (85). This line is reasonably true and shows some genuine perception on the part of the person who wrote it; a subway may have more than the coming and going of people and trains—it rumbles. Here Roy’s narration is good, almost poetic. Like Emily Dickinson or Cormack McCarthy, she’s picking up on something the lay person doesn’t realize immediately.

I think that Virginia Woolf probably picked up on things that lay people don’t realize. Perhaps especially that people didn’t realize at the time she was writing. Now I haven’t read Orlando: A Biography but I feel like I know what’s going on there; why it would be considered a powerful work. I suspect that the power of Orlando is similar to the movie (though I can’t really say for sure) and that power is in the fact that the story knows what it’s doing and sticks to it’s guns. Further, like I said about Beloved earlier, Orlando complicates itself with things like time and gender. But Orlando depends upon a serious and considered appraisal of what it takes aim at; perhaps (though not necessarily) the change and voracity of gender relations. This appraisal as opposed to a flippant look at the absurdities of such long life and unlikely change disguised with supposedly inventive writing which depends on third person narration. See deep down the play Orlando knows that it’s dealing with this tricky stuff, but it doesn’t deal with it because it repeatedly takes the audience out of that stuff.

A play can be weird. Anything can be weird, but maybe it shouldn’t be weird for weirdness’s sake. Which brings me back to my critique; the strength of a work can won or lost in it’s commitment to something concrete. If I want to relate a work to some, say perhaps, greater human truth, or critical assertion, that work had better have the ability to fit into a box like that. Okay some works defy classification. For some works, defiance is the point. But get with the program, there’s a way to articulate an idea effectively. 

Here’s sort of a final going over, though that’s not to say that this is the last word I’ll have on the subject. Look at in-class discussion though, Beloved proved fruitful though not liked while The God of Small Things hasn’t really been fruitful at all. If there was something really to be said conclusively about The God of Small Things someone would have said it, so maybe it’s way down there still. Yet the construction of the language, the literature of the book suggests otherwise; the concreteness of the book (perhaps that singular meaning I once said criticism of art invites) is debilitated by the fickleness the likes of Roy brought to her book or the actors and playwright at the Court Theater brought to Orlando.

Again I’ve written for more than enough time tonight, but there may be more to say. Although I’ve articulated the problems in these works a hundred times it seems, it may be worthwhile to bang out some solutions. It’s not that there isn’t the capacity for passable work here, it’s just that these basics (what a critique of literary language would reveal) have not been covered.

That still may not be all.

What You Do to Get the Creative Juices Creating

So maybe I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore, maybe I’m a contrarian who’s had a long day, I may even be barking up the wrong tree. But I don’t think so. My last posts have been all new frustration with the content of the works we’ve been experiencing, but I think it’s warranted because, regardless of the relative merits people assume don’t exist in art (spoiler: there are relative merits in art), I sense that the last two books we have in the class and the play don’t really achieve the level of artistic merit I’d demand from a class which seeks to probe and explain literature (or maybe any interrogation of a subject). See like it or not, genera defiance or not, there is something to be said for establishing and maintaining consistent tone and structure in a work—assert creativity. Frankly between Beloved, The God of Small Things, and Orlando, Beloved really works best even if seemingly superficially.

Beloved seems to have a stated purpose; consider the endurance present in, and generational history of American slavery in hindsight. This is nice, it can be expanded upon when we add things like three generations of characters, motifs such as feet, colors, movement through history, or supernatural forces. Nevertheless, we have a really nice ground to build from and Morrison does that right. She knows what’s up and convolutes it on top, an author doesn’t need to say “this is the base of my novel” (Heart of Darkness anyone) but the sensed presence of such a concrete object is something the reader might (almost certainly does in critical reading) read for. Do I uncover the Meaning of everything I encounter, probably not but I like the sense it’s there, kind of like money or representational government if you catch my drift. A reader can have faith in a book like Beloved because they don’t think that it will let them down in that it means to mean.

The God of Small Things may mean to mean as well, but I don’t think that a reader should have faith in this books ability to provide one with what one wants. Beloved may have been superficial, but it’s pledge seemed honest; Morrison’s language was not particularly abstract but she didn’t neglect to create over pages transitions and gradients between the past and present and people that were vital to the story. It’s what Morrison wanted, a narrative that successfully replied to the relatively unstated purpose. Interestingly enough, The God of Small Things may be trying at some of the very same meanings and constructions of Beloved but doesn’t really follow through; The God of Small Things does not allow itself to say equally “124 was spiteful” and “but by 1873...” (Morrison, 5). Roy probably shouldn’t have said “hey it might suck because writing this will not work” (you have to look really closely on pages 32 to 34) when she meant to say that the hardships of life in all of Indian history can be ambiguous even to a unit as close together as twins (maybe).

There is such a thing as point of view. I’m writing from one right now in my chair. I get that. And with point of view one might come across “a word with crinkled, happy edges” as I cited earlier, but that wouldn’t make it true (Roy, 53). See we can have point of view about going to Oxford—“you don’t go to Oxford. You read at Oxford.... After reading at Oxford you come down”—but that’s not a cause to really break up the page the Roy does (55). That’s something Morrison knows. And Faulkner. And Dickens. And Conrad. And many more good writers; McCarthy, Fitzgerald, Hawthorn, Shakespeare, Virgil, Austin, even various sisters Brontë didn’t mess that up. Roy consistently fails to make sense of this aspect of her novel. She contradicts the point of view of a child by having sentences that don’t support one subjective state; “Rahel saw that Ammu had a film of perspiration on her forehead and upper lip, and that her eyes had become hard, like marbles” (69). What’s going on here Roy, does Rahel reflect on the various meanings of the word “film” and then need to also describe a look which might be stern with an association to spherical glass playthings? That doesn’t seem to follow. Maybe this would be a good time to use italics to draw a distinction (after all Ms. Roy, you seem to really like italics; you have no problem just shooting them left and right like marbles). But maybe this sentence could be serviced even better by just finding consistent tone; it’s what you do to get the creative juices flowing.

All this exacerbated thinking is not to say that a writer can’t push the boundaries of the printed word. In fact it may be the only thing I really like about the Emily Dickinson poetry we’ve read that she seems to have no ails dropping in some dashes and line breaks. I relish the idea that there may be more to those literal lines than meets the eye. Let’s read those lines. Similarly Cormack McCarthy, an author that has come repeatedly to mind these last few books, has his own style of writing that isn’t conventional but really does seem to describe the fluidity of say a conversation. McCarthy is also a playwright so he probably has a better sense of how a conversation flows or needs to flow to begin with than one who “was trained as an architect.” At any rate, these are writers who are pushing the boundaries, know why, and know how.

Maybe that’s not fair to Arundhati Roy; not everyone is the next Faulkner or Dickens. I know that. But I’m not the one who made that comparison to begin with, I’ll try to be a one who decides if that’s worth saying. It’s not.

At this point I’ve been writing for over an hour and I’m really happy with what I have. I wanted to discuss Orlando because that production suffered from a lot of the same difficulties as The God of Small Things and deserves the same treatment (whatever that means). I’ll leave you with this. Get some sleep. I’m not going to be good for the quiz, but we’ll see how tomorrow goes anyways.

That is not all.

 

Paul D.; A unique tool for Sethe's release?

It was first touched upon in class discussion, and then again through the impromptu with the passage;aul D. Is essential to Sethe moving on with her past. This is primary illustrated through the scene where Paul D and Sethe lay in bed together. They appear to be 'tagging' each other iand out of the memory. One minute it's coming from Paul D. And the next from Sethe. It's seen through the corn husk. Like the corn, Sethe is able to release her memories and let her "jailed juices" flow freely. It is clearnthe it is vital for Sethe to have someone who endured the same things as she did the in order to truly move on, but is it essential that that person is Paul D? At first I disregarded Paul D's presence as a vital character because there were other characters there who could have easily taken his spot as the instigator of Sethe's healing. Then, as we reared o through the novel I started to second guess myself. It seems that Paul D. Seemed to be closer to Hallie than the other guys. I think that Oaul D.'s relationship with Hallie makes Sethe more comortable with im than shdpe otherwise would have npbeen with somebody else from her past. I also think that Paul D.

One part that does not make much sense

Throughout Beloved, there have been many instances of stories that I just find hard to believe.  The haunted house and the mysterious child that walks out of a river to rape Paul D and torture Sethe are such examples.  However, I also find holes in the story of the town's betrayal of Baby Suggs and Sethe.  How could the town hate Baby Suggs after all that she has done for them?  She was an old lady that just wanted to get away from slavery and live a decent life with her daughter.  I just find it inconceivable for people to hate someone for their generosity.  Too much food?  Too sweet of a pie?  Too big of a turkey?  Such dumb reasons for the townsfolks to hate Baby Suggs.  I just find it ridiculous for Morrison to suggest that people can hate Baby Suggs for her feast to the point that they would not warn her about the four men coming to get Sethe.  Jealousy, envy, annoyance would have been better substitutes for hatred, which is quite uncalled for in Baby Suggs' case.

Garner v. Schoolteacher

Throughout the entire novel, I have noticed that the styles of the Sweet Home Owners are constantly compared. Paul D and Sethe often question whether the cruelty of Schoolteacher was really that much more than that of Mr. Garner. To me, the biased reader, Schoolteacher was by far the cruelest master of the two. I am wondering if they aren't telling the full story of Garner through their flashbacks because their memories of schoolteacher are more recent and therefore more vivid. If this isn't the case, then what could make them look for an opportunity to point out Garner's cruelty? I was just a little confused by this.

Chains that connect the story

As i talked about in class and in my impromptu, the point of view of the story and the passage we wrote about is connected by the touch of one character to another.  I find it interesting how this also corrolates with Paul D and the chains that connect him to his slave brothers in Kentucky.  When one slave brother fell, so did all of the others.  The story in the passage we wrote about was passed on from Sethe to Paul D through the subtle movements of the other and the memory was taken on into the point of view of whoever was recalling the memory.  I think its really cool how the theme of slavery can be tied into the story through the point of view as is done in this case.  Morrison takes the reader into the story through other peoples memory of events.

The Case of the Missing Numbers

So here's what I'm thinking...Morrison does not number her chapters because numbering chapters relates to creating a specific and dominant timeline.  In Beloved all of the stories that are being told (present day/flashback) are equally important and equally significant.  The themes and views of the novel cannot be fully revealed without the cohesive interaction of multiple timelines.

For example, the story that is told about Sethe's reaction to the schoolteacher and what she did to her children is as significant as the story about Paul D. examining the tree on Sethe's back.  Morrison uses stories from multiple timelines in order to create a dynamic history of a group of people, and more specifically a history of Sethe. 

Denver is not a child



When we first began Beloved, I thought that Denver was not eighteen, but much, much younger. Somehow I got the notion that Denver was a little nine year old girl. This was before her exact age was mentioned and before we learned about her trips to Ms. Jones's. I completely missed brief mentions of eighteen years ago and the fact that the book takes place in 1873 and Sethe tells Paul D she had the baby in 1855 (9). I thought she was much younger because she acts like a nine year old.

When Denver first descends the stairs, she is not pleasant to Paul D. You would expect a girl of 18 to at least be polite to a stranger, but she was rude and didn't try to hide it. When she cries in front of the oven, Morrison says, "The tears she had not shed for nine years wetting her far too womanly breasts" (17). In hindsight, it's obvious she's is referring to when Denver went to Ms. Jones's house and the boy Nelson asked her about what Sethe did. But to a new reader, it seems like Denver is actually nine.

Then her behavior before, at and after the carnival is childlike as well. She has no respect for Paul D's presence and her mother's affection for him. She openly refuses to go and Sethe must force her to dress nicely (56). Her attitude is much like that of a child.

I was quite embarrassed when I blurted out Denver was nine when in fact she is eighteen. Now that we are almost finished with Beloved, we know what contributed to Denver's childness. She was stuck in a house for nine years with nobody to play with except the ghost of her dead sister. Not exactly the ideal playmate. She constantly lives in fear that her mother is going to kill her. In Denver's chapter, pages 242-247, it's clear that she has delusions such as her father's return in order keep her morale up. She's afraid of the world outside her house, she's afraid of her mother, so I don't blame the girl for acting young and convincing herself of the near impossible.

So then the question becomes how does Beloved help Denver develop and mature? Is there a shift in Denver's personality and actions after Beloved's arrival? I think so. She begins to act more like an eighteen year old.

It's also interesting that even though Denver was never a slave, slavery has had the largest influence on her life. Without it Sethe would not have tried to kill her children and Denver would be spared all this distraught.

Strong as Iron

I am assigned to track the iron motif so I thought I would put out a tentative meaning for it. I think that iron represents control. The most striking example of the iron motif is when Paul D has the "bit" in his mouth, (83). The bit is made of iron and presses down on the tongue so that Paul D cannot speak. The bit is obviously a symbol of control of the slave master over his slave.

Iron is also referenced in Sethe's memory of Amy Denver. Sethe remembers, "those cane-stalk arms, as it turned out, were as strong as iron," (39). While Amy seems weak and unable to help Sethe, she proves to be infinitely helpful and births Denver. Amy takes control of the situation with her iron arms.

Interestingly, the motif also shows up in a description of Sethe's eyes. Morrison describes Sethe as, "the one with iron eyes and backbone to match," (10). This description is from Paul D's memory of what Sethe used to look like before she was broken by Schoolteacher and ran away. Back then, she at least believed she was in control of her situation. Now, however, the iron is gone from her eyes because she realizes she has little to no control over her life.

Decisions

In class today we talked a lot about Sethe’s decision to kill her children rather than let them be taken back to Sweet Home. Another decision I found interesting was Stamp Paid’s decision to tell Paul D about Sethe’s decision. Stamp Paid’s reason for telling Paul D is not Sethe or Paul D but rather Baby Suggs. Stamp Paid describes “It was her memory and the honor that was her due that made him walk straight-necked into the yard of 124” (201) I understand that Stamp Paid did not agree with Sethe’s choice but I think he crossed the line telling Paul D. He was the first person to really set foot in 124 for since the incident and it was not Stamp Paid responsibility to inform him of what happened in the past. This part of the novel made me think back to the survey we took before beginning the book. I believe one of the questions was about whether someone can be forgiven after killing an innocent person. Stamp Paid’s decision to tell Paul D shows that he has really forgiven Sethe. Although I do not agree with her actions, I do not believe that Sethe’s life in the present should be continuously ruined by her past.

 

Iron Eyes

The motif of eyes in Beloved is very prominent. It seems to me to represent control. Sethe is described as having these powerful, iron eyes but then after schoolteacher comes they are empty wells. "Then the schoolteacher arrived...punched the glittering iron out of Sethe's eyes, leaving two open wells" (11). When Sethe still has the "iron eyes" before schoolteacher, she was more in control of her life. The Sweet Home men respected her and let her choose who she wanted to be with. Halle respected her and she had children at her own will. But when schoolteacher came, he took away that power, thereby taking away the authoritative glare. I think that's why it is so hard for Paul D to look Sethe in the eyes. He says "even punched out they needed to be covered, lidded, marked with some sign to warn folks of what that emptiness held" (10). Paul D hates looking at Sethe's eyes because they remind him of slavery and the terrible time spent with schoolteacher and what he did to them. Sethe's eyes hold this power to trigger these bad thoughts and memories in Paul D's mind.

Crazy Sisters

What I don't understand is why Denver is so attached to Beloved.  Okay yeah she is her sister and she drank her blood when she was a baby, but it is obvious that Beloved only cares about Sethe.  We can first see this when Beloved and Denver are dancing.  Denver asks Beloved not to tell Sethe who she is.  Suddenly Beloved gets angry and tells Denver to never tell her what to do (89).  I would be freaked out if my sister was saying those things to me, so why is Denver still so attached?  Also when they were in the clearing Beloved somehow started choking Sethe (113).  Denver knew that it was Beloved too, yet she still forgave her and wants Beloved all to herself.  Denver even promises to protect Beloved.  So what do you guys think?  Is Denver just stupid?  Or maybe she just feels some connection to her older sister that we can't understand.

Paul D and Pauly D...Yeah, I am going there.

So from the first moment that I say Paul D's name in Beloved my mind turned to the fist pumping juice head from the infamous Jersey Shore cast. Now, I have only reluctantly seen a few episodes of the horrid reality show, but I find Pauly D's character quite funny and worth a solid blog post. 

I have actually noticed a lot differences between the two people (and I bet you as the reader are saying, "no sh*t sherlock!" but I am actually going somewhere with this). While Pauly D is extremely loud, I find the Paul D tends to suppress is thoughts a lot. Obviously he has his outbursts, but when Morrison decides to shift to Paul D's perspective, he has a lot of pent up emotions that the outside world does not see. He has a lot of struggles from the past (his experiences at sweet home, the jail in Georgia) that cause him to be tough and not show his outward emotions. 

Another contrasting factor between the two people (or are they characters...? I just don't know at this point) is the idea of work and work ethic. Paul D has worked his entire life and has struggled through the emotional and physical toll of slavery. What has Pauly D done with his life? Drink, GTL, and hang out at a house that he is living in (rather luxuriously I might add) but not paying for. 

Paul D is a far more complex person than Pauly D is, and I think that I have come to the conclusion that I should never EVER compare the two, for a plethora of reasons. I would love to hear my fellow bloggers' inputs on this idea, or essentially the idea of comparing any media icon with a literary character constructed by a genius author.

 

 

But alas, I still chuckle every few times that I see Paul D's name and think about this fist pumping champ...

 

Deixis

    Responding with a measure of brevity to Peter’s post:  “But I might say that the greatest works of art invite the potential for a single meaning.” I take this to be his general statement, from which Faulkner, Fitzgerald and Morrison are all named as failing to provide the “tremendous intimacy” of The Stranger or Heart of Darkness. I begin with saying that I agree with Peter as to his evaluation of those aforementioned books. I enjoyed them for exactly the same reasons he stated, so there is no point in regurgitating that. Instead, I’ll focus on Faulkner (who is an idol of Morrison, no surprise there) and Morrison. I leave Fitzgerald out in order to limit my points to this year’s reading.

    I suggest a shift in perspective. I too hold the ability to convey complex, multifaceted meanings with a pointed and precise quantity of words in high regard. But some writers simply do not do that. Consider the reader that values a propensity to veer into a verbose vichyssoise of verbiage  (see what I did there?), and holds a hearty hatred of  simplistic, sparse and skeletal writing. Such a person would not agree with you on what qualifies as a good writing.

    When I approach a monstrosities such as Light in August or Beloved, I don’t bother looking for a single unifying point or an elegant expression of theme. I feel it would do a disservice to the author to try and fit their work of art to a standard that it never set out to fulfill in the first place. I extend your art parallel to say that I find great beauty in both buildings by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe  (is it excessive to use his full name?) and in the flourishes and ornamentation of Art Nouveau. And if that passed as cogent (maybe it even flirted with lucidity at one point), I offer it as advice to Peter. The rigidity with which you approach literature confines you to but a small corner of the paperbacked world. And in an unrelated sidenote, Pride and Prejudice was a terrible book, in possession of all the English virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire. (with apologies to Churchill)

 

 

A Consideration of Great Literature Or I Will Never Read a Great Book

I’d like to just lay down a simple, personal response to Beloved so far. My assertion is that there is a lot that is going on in this book, but I (perhaps even we the class) are not really coming to a unified theory of what’s going on in this book. I don’t think that we’re even close to the point where one of us may really posit an elegant statement of theme. So come with me on this brief blogpost and commiserate in the comments.

Here’s the thing, I can look at almost any page in the book and figure out what it is that Toni Morrison is doing in so much as the language and philosophy of the work. However, I worry that, if I were to make a statement of theme it would sound ridiculous. Something like: Morrison asks if Americans are entrenched in a vicious cycle of condemning the horrors of a past they really consider nobel and whether or not there is moral high-ground in a relationship with that past. Is that a load of shit? Or does a statement like that actually apply to the various characters, events and philosophies that Morrison is presenting?

For a simple consideration of theme, I think that it’s possible it does. Clearly memory and conflict over something that is both pleasing in its simplicity yet evil in it’s literal actions are parts of the narrative. Both in the slavery/plantation world of Sweet Home and the mother’s love/loss in the haunting and presence of Beloved. Yet my concern is that my statement of theme is picking up on, but not analyzing or addressing fully the real events of the story.

Jeez, looking this sucker over I’m not sure I’m even articulating my point well. I’ll try to contextualize my point in the other reading we’ve done this year or ever. The books I’ve gotten the most out of are the ones that have both a complexity in their presentation but a simplicity in their point. There is tremendous intricacy to The Stranger or Heart of Darkness and these are the books which present their point most clearly in the early pages and then develop that point and explore it most completely in their brief narratives.

I had a similar relationship with Light in August, Faulkner’s writing seemed sometimes excessive; a smattering of ideas and devices across too many places and people. The Great Gatsby seemed much the same way too; all this stuff on the surface to charm an AP student with but no unified substance. Morrison in similar, she knows exactly what she’s doing from one page to the next, but I feel as though I am blundering, at times, through the singular point of the work. That’s not to say that a work of art needs a single point, but I might say that the greatest works of art invite the potential for a single meaning. By saying this, I think that I am questioning the greatness of Beloved perhaps also Light in August and I’m not convinced that these books are the greatest. Certainly not necessarily as great as John Leonard thinks (see the back cover of your book). 

Now here’s the real creme filling; I think, finally, that it is not only (or may not be only) my reading that is this page to page, theory to theory method in this case that is bringing me down, I conceive that it is possible (if not likely) that the author may not be synthesizing so great a work here because it may only be seen in this way. Morrison, Faulkner, Fitzgerald alike may have over stepped the possibilities of good writing. Or they’ve gone too far over my head and I need to get out now.

That is all.

Beginning Beloved

After finishing Heart of Darkness, I felt pretty defeated thinking about reading another book. I mean I just want this school year to be over already...but even besides that I struggled so much with Heart of Darkness that I didn't even want to attempt understanding another book.

We're not very far into Beloved, but I hope that it will be better than Heart of Darkness. Already it's looking up. I'm finding Beloved easier to understand for a couple reasons. I enjoy the writing of Beloved and since the point of view changes so frequently and subtly, I think this makes it easier to relate to for more people. Also, the plot is already interesting and intriguing. I like to think I'm not lost after only 20ish pages, but even if I am I can tell I'm less lost than I was after the first page of Heart of Darkness. I'm interested to find out more about the ghost baby, Denver, the sons who ran away, Sethe...I guess I'll admit I'm interested in reading more of the book in general...but don't tell anyone.

I Can SEE this Book Is Going to Be Good

I don’t want to speak to soon but I think Beloved could be my favorite book so far this year. Not to say that the other books were boring, but I completely agree with Mr. Heidkamp that this book is a page-turner. It is fairly easy to read and I feel like we have already jumped into the plot from the very first page.

An interesting motif I have picked up on is Sethe’s eyes or vision. The first it caught my attention was when Paul D describes them as “iron eyes” (10). He says she has “a backbone to match” perhaps alluding to her personality. She seems like a strong person who has endured a tough past and perhaps her eyes represent this. Her vision is also mentioned on page 14 when thinks back to “the woman she has known all her life”. She describes various gruesome situations that her mother looked away from. I think also points to the rough life she has had and how it makes her a strong person. When Denver feels lonely, seeks the comfort of her mother looking at her (15). This also shows that Denver thinks her mother is strong. I believe this motif probably represents something deeper that we will see as we continue to read the book; this is just my initial view of what it means right now. And yes, both of those puns were intended.

 

semi parallel: like the euphrates and tigris or a river runs through it or some fruity comparison

On the surface Dead Man may seem like pointless weirdness, or in high school terms "super random." And although I find the symbolism loose and confusing, I do think that there is still a very clear message to the work. This is one of many times I have seen the film but i think it made more sense this time because of the work we had done with, Heart of Darkness and Apocalypse now. 

Besides all of them having a symbolic river in it (as I cleverly alluded to in the title), these three works have many parallel motifs and they all serve similar purposes as works of art in their respective culture. It was because of the close relationship Dead Man had to more explicit work like Heart of Darkness that I could figure out these Purposes. 

All three of these movies form a powerful message on a couple or more different levels. At least two or more levels. One level being sociological or a criticism of actual tangible events in a culture (imperialism, savage wars, western bruteness) and the next a more ontological or 'deep' meaning. It happens that we may be blessed with several 'deep' meanings in each work.

I personally I have noticed allusions to intellectual discovery and universal development as an allegorical theme in each.  to be continued for the extra points...

Perine poops on poetry

In Perine's What is poetry? essay he proclaims "If we limit ourselves to looking in poetry for some lesson, message, or noble truth about life, we are bound to be disappointed." This for me, was a disappointing low to the essay. 

I guess the biggest issue I had with this was that he is trying to generalize what is a very fluid way of art. Due to the heavily subjective nature of poetry, the only things that could possibly limit it are words like these. I don't think it is right to tell someone what to go in looking for in a poem.  

Then for him to say that truths about life are not relevant in poetry was very shocking. Especially since a truth does not always come in the form of a "sugarcoated pill" that Perine talks about. Truth can be something simply evoked by a thought provoking statement. A lot of truth is inferred or implied. So, to say a poem like winter does not hold any underlying message, just because it is not written out in clear words, is a grave misstatement. Its like saying that life has no lessons just because they are not written out in the skies. Interpretation is always a great power, even within poetry. 

 

Beloved or Beloath-ed

After I finished reading the novel Beloved, I had one question. Was Beloved's character good or bad? It all depends on how you interpret what happens in the novel, but is there a right or wrong answer?

 We know in the beginning of the novel Sethe and Denver are talking and they say, "the baby got plans". What were those plans? Did the ghost feel obliged to return because of Sethe's inability to move on and Beloved came with good intentions from the start? Or did Beloved's evil plan get foiled by Denver's sudden growth and maturity? I have been pondering this question for some time and I personally don't know which side to choose, there is evidence for both good and bad Beloved. In the end I believe all three of the main characters are helped and lead improved lives due to Beloved coming, I just don't know whether that was the ghost's intention from the start or it happened by accident.

Now I turn to you, fellow readers, was Beloved's character good or bad?

Womanhood

Part of being a women involves baring children. Womanhood can involve motherhood explaining why they are so closely related to each other in Beloved. Baby Suggs loves her children but does not place all of her love on them. She loves her community and she also loves preaching in the clearing.

Sethe however, has an unconditional lover for her children (She does not love herself which can be argued to lead to her crazy actions). When Sethe describes the killing of her baby, she believes that she has done no wrong. "Suddenly [Paul D] saw what Stamp Paid wanted him to see: more important that what Sethe had done was what she claimed. It scared him" (193). Sethe's memories of Sweet Home and her love for her children led her to "put [her] babies where they'd be safe," (193) in heaven by killing them.

Paul D cannot understand Sethe's actions, it may be because he is a man or perhaps the tin box he keeps closed at all times.

The Future of Beloved

In Toni Morrison's Beloved, she seems to almost totally forsake the future of those who experienced the slave condition.  Sethe is continuously haunted by her dead daughter, she fixates on how many feet she has, and she stays in the past to avoid the fright that freedom proposes.  Paul D often thinks of the bit, he wanders the countryside not wanting emotional connection with anybody, and Sixo's laugh haunts his thoughts.  The only true optimistic character in the whole novel is Denver. 

"It was true Paul D. saw her the next morning when he was on his way to work and she was leaving hers.  Thinner, steady in the eyes, she looked more like Halle then ever(313)."

Denver is the first generation of black individuals born out of slavery.  Her birth literally occurs right when Sethe escapes.  Morrison portrays her at the end as a strong black woman.  One who can succeed in the white world around her, while maintaining ties to the black community.  Denver unlike Sethe is not too proud, she does not hesitate to ask for help from people like Lady Jones and Ella.  She saved her mother from another stint in jail by tackling her when Beloved disappeared.  Denver is now Baby Suggs' girl, with the strength of her grandmother but without the emotional scars left by the rememories Baby encountered.  The future looks bright for the black race and Denver in particular, but it seems as though Morrison says that to be strong in the world a black individual must first grapple with the past, almost die with its treachery, and then expel it, not passing it on but reveling in its lesson.

The Circle of Life

Beloved is basically the circle of life.  Not in the overall story, but in all the subplots.

There is the whole thing in the water and it's ability to bring both death and life.  In the first half of the novel, the water is a symbol life when Denver is born in the water and Beloved is reborn from the water.  The water acts as a kind of catalyst for the new life.  However, in part two, we see the other side of water.  It is depicted as the enemy and place of death in the middle passage and the way that Beloved describes her time there.

Beloved herself is a circle of life - twice.  When she returns from the dead, she has to suck the life from others to continue to sustain her own, but it was still a life cycle.

Everyone's lives depended on each other and the circle life only continued with give and take.  Beloved only continues to grow when she is ending Sethe's life and Sethe can only live fully when Beloved has died.  

They were unable to coexist.

WHAT Is Beloved About?!

Even though we have officially finished discussing Beloved in class for some strange reason it has stuck with me. I even kind of feel like I need to read it again right away. It has created an unusual problem for me in that I am unable to pinpoint what it is about. Yeah, it's about a woman who was born into slavery, found a way to free herself, killed her daughter out of fear of reentering slave life, and has been haunted by the memory in various ways ever since. Sure, Denver, Paul D, and even Baby Suggs play relatively important parts within the novel but that is basically the storyline. But that doesn't satisfy me.  

 Most books I read I can lay it down and understand many of the nuances within the novel. Books I enjoy tend to resonate with me a lot and as a result if I think about the text enough I can understand the reasoning behind why the author added the small details and the seemingly insignificant parts in it. The answers I come up with in response to Beloved are simply unsatisfactory. I cannot understand the sexual relationship between Paul D and Beloved, the meaning behind Beloved's pregnancy, or why Beloved appeared and disappeared. I think that Beloved holds more meaning that can be understood in simply one read. I also believe that the novel has many different layers. I believe that the past integrated with the future is an important part of the novel but I also think there are many other important pieces I have yet to pick out. 

Good Mother, Bad Mother

Before we started reading Beloved Mr. Heidkamp had mentioned that Morrison's writing is similar to Faulkner, so I was immediately excited to read this novel. While I find Morrison's writing to be one of the most alluring, eloquent, and unique pieces I have ever read, it was also one of the most difficult readings so far in this course.

One thing that constantly reoccurred throughout my reading, was the question, "A mother's love can possibly lead to a decision to destroy a child." At first instinct, I cannot see how love can justify and transcend the individual's right to live no matter how old, however, I do understand how people can be driven by love to extreme behavior. I think this is the first time that I grew so attached to the characters themselves, which explains why I really struggled with Sethe's character as a woman and a mother. There were times where Sethe seemed like she was completely absorbed in her own world, disregarding Paul D. and even Denver, all because of Beloved. I struggled to accept that Sethe was a good mother, that in the end she was redeemed. And even after finishing the novel I still do not know.

Why Does There Have To Be A Happily Ever After?

A week or so ago, we were discussing the relationship between Denver and Sethe and Beloved and Sethe. We mentioned how Denver relates to the future because her entire life has been outside of slavery and therefore she has more of an opportunity to branch outside of the horrific practice, while Beloved is representative of the past and everything that came before. Somehow the discussion took a turn into the discussion of whether the book would end well if the novel was about Denver. 

Often, hypothetical situations like this one seem silly to me. I feel as though trying to create a happy ending in this book is unnecessary because that is not the message that the novel is trying to convey. The novel, in my opinion, attempts to describe the awful practice of slavery, but even more than that it tries to describe the ghosts of the past. I believe that although Morrison uses slavery as the method of description of the past, it is more about how the past can haunt a person in unavoidable ways. I don't believe that this can realistically be made into a positive thing. For Sethe, her entire life had been a cumulation of pain, disappointment, and longing for a different life. It is impossible to ignore something that had been your life for so long. Therefore I don't believe that a happy ending can be made in Beloved. 

Denver is an interesting character because I believe that she lives either based on her mother or grandmother's past or on the idea of her future. If she were the protagonist of the novel then her story would be one of positivity and achievement. But it's not. Beloved is a sad story pertaining to a woman living in a sad time in history. That, I believe, is why it is not a story to be retold. For Denver's sake and the sake of the next generation, stories such as this should stay in the past while others move into the future. 

Middle Passage

Journeys are a major part of this novel, and are apparent all throughout. There is Sethe's journey from Sweet Home, to Baby Suggs house; Baby Sugg;s journey from slavery to freedom; Denver's journey from her restricted life at home, out into the community; Paul D's journey all over the place, unable to settle down; and then Beloved's journey from death back to Sethe.

On page 89 the conversation between Denver and Beloved is a curious one. It's when Beloved is talking about where she was for so long, before she came to live with them. Does anybody know specifically what she refers to?  I know in class we discussed that it could of been a slaveship, or purgatory..

Morrison's Querencia

As "good readers," we are not supposed to put ourselves in a novel and relate it to our lives. Yet, it seemed whenever we had a discussion related to Beloved, we did.

Morrison stated that she wanted her writing to be "narrow and deep," rather than generalizing the time period during slavery and after slavery. She accomplished this to the tee by giving us insight to the story of Sethe and her family. This fulfillment is what allows readers to relate to the specific personality characteristics of the various people in the novel.

Morrison, too, covered the broad and shallow. She vividly and successfully described the life of slaves. What allows us to continue the conversation regarding our lives in this novel is the way we are able to relate to the actions of the characters. 

For me, the Querencia papers was one of the most difficult for me. That may sound foolish, but I felt like expressing my emotions and satisfaction of my place was near impossible. It was difficult for me to write down how I felt in order for readers to feel as if they were present in my place. What (hopefully) helped me through it, though, was Morrison's writing. From the tin in Paul D's mouth, to the every detail of Beloved herself, I was able to take minute details and explode them.

Morrison gave us insight to eloquent ways of writing through her profound writing. Beloved was by far my favorite book of the year.

"Not a Story to Pass On"

In the final chapter of Beloved, Morrison uses the phrase "It was/This is not a story to pass on" three times.  At first, I thought it was a rather curious statement for an author to put at the end of her novel.  What is the point of reading a story that people should not pass on?  With further thought, however, I realized that this statement reflected the way that living in the past negatively influences people's lives. 

Beloved, as a character, is the embodiment of the past.  She is the grown, living child that Sethe killed, and while she stays at 124, the other characters are miserable living with the past.  Beloved's presence reduces Sethe to a childlike state, drives Paul D out of the house, and forces Denver to take care of what is left of her family.  Throughout the novel, it is clear that Sethe cannot let go of her past and cannot move on with her life as a result.  Denver seems to be the only character who despises hearing about the past, so it is no coincidence that she is the first character to realize what Beloved is doing and put a stop to it.

Morrison's statement, "This is not a story to pass on," means that Beloved's story should not be passed on, as it is a story about the past.  If people continue to talk about Beloved, they will be unable to move on with their lives and lay the disturbing past to rest.

Community Effort

What really fascinates me about the novel, Beloved is the strong sense of community associated with the inhabitants.The Cincinnati community, of which both Sethe and Denver both become members, is not just about bonding close relationships with others in the community, it is about survival. Along with the core premise of survival, Sethe and Denver alike go through the process of self discovery in the Cincinnati community.

Although, not only pleasant things or ideas arise from communities, the communities in Beloved especially. Because a community is so tightly-knit and collective, the differing of ideas and opinions seem seldom. The African American community in Cincinnati did not forewarn Sethe when schoolteacher approached caused the death of her daughter. Although the community repents for this failure, Baby Suggs felt betrayed by the community, even through death.

Community effort is most often beneficial to the effectiveness of the community, and the quality of the people living in the community itself. The idea of a strong community is very propelling in this novel, because I do not think many believe that Community effort could lead to negative downfall.