This week, I read Lawrence Edward Bowling's 1947 piece entitled "Faulkner: Technique of The Sound and the Fury," which examines the controversial chronological style that makes the novel so famous. In his piece, Bowling attempts to support Faulkner and his style, using a long and thorough argument to dispel accusations that the narrative technique is simply an "unnecessary obstacle" and providing relevant examples to show his reader how crucial the book's chronology is to the theme and the reader.
Essentially, however, Bowling sums his argument up in three main parts. First, he notes that, although utterly confusing, the disorder of time in the novel is necessary for the plot to make sense as a whole. Given the way that it was written, each of the book's four sections ultimately rely on the other three to be understood and if rearranged into chronological order by the dates at the beginning of each section, the novel could not make sense. This is because, peppered throughout the book, there constantly appear small facts and details that help us comprehend the story, yet, those facts are not always presented prior to a particular sections and sometimes are only revealed after the scene has taken place. Secondly, Bowling also argues that the random, stream-of-consciousness narration prevalent is crucial in helping each character develop a certain identity. In this book, we learn of the characters not by facts "but by [being presented] the reactions of certain characters to these facts" (Bowling 11). Therefore, the baffling and un-descriptive narration of Benjy and the soliloquy-esque, complex narration of Quentin are the only ways we as readers get to know the characters and understand how they work and think. Thus, Bowling points out that if all the narration in the book were like Benjy's or like Quentin's, there would be nothing unique and special about those characters and the reader would be left with a lesser understanding of what kind of people they truly are.
Finally, Bowling concludes his article with the point that Faulkner's narrative style is essential to the theme of the book. As he describes it, "The Sound and the Fury is a novel about disorder, disintegration, and the absence of perspective" centered around "the internal chaos of the characters,--their intellectual, moral, and spiritual confusion" (Bowling 15). Given the fact that much of the narration seems, at least to the reader, as chaotic and very confusing, Faulkner's style in this novel perfectly facilitates the novel's main theme and ultimately, we get a full understanding of the disorder in the characters' lives through it. Therefore, as Bowling puts it, "As an introduction to this theme, what could be more appropriate than the flat, perspective-less language of Benjy's section?" (Bowling 15). Thus, in the end, while the language is quite possibly the source of the reader's confusion, it is also the key to his or her complete understanding on the novel; a cruel double-edged sword.
All in all, I thought Bowling's piece on The Sound and the Fury was extremely enlightening and that it adequately explained why an author like Faulkner would use a technique so troublesome for his or her reader. It makes sense now why the story is written in such a fashion and with the information I have learned, such as Faulkner's attempt to use narration to portray disorder, disintegration, and absence of perspective, I can now apply that knowledge to better interpret the novel as I'm reading. Also, I found the article to be an interesting review of stream-of-consciousness as well, helping me to better understand much of what it is about. For example, Bowling, at one point, mentions how, in Quentin's section, Faulkner simplifies the thought processes to make it easier to understand. Given my personal perspective that section two was extremely complicated to begin with, I found it odd that Bowling would say this, but upon further reading, came to understand that if I myself were to write out my conscious thought process, it would also be quite confusing. Thus, it gave more meaning to my understanding of stream-of-consciousness and more credibility to Faulkner's narrative form.
In conclusion, I thought this work was a very thorough, informative, and ultimately enjoyable work on The Sound and the Fury
Article:
Faulkner: Technique of The Sound and the Fury
Lawrence Edward Bowling
The Kenyon Review, Vol. 10, No. 4 (Autumn 1948), pp. 552-566.
Published by: Kenyon College
Monday, October 27, 2008
Friday, October 3, 2008
Wartime Inhumanity: the Effects of War as Illustrated in Tim O'Brien's "The Things They Carried"
In the short story “The Things They Carried,” Tim O’Brien illustrates a grotesque, graphic, but soberingly realistic depiction of war through the demise of the story’s main character, Lieutenant Jimmy Cross, in the setting of the 1960’s Vietnam conflict. Ripped apart by the death of one of the men under his command, in the story, Cross undergoes a transformation in which his idealistic, but obsessed attitude gives way to his formation into a mere machine fighting for the American war effort. Against a background of wartime brutality and horror, Cross’s transformation in many ways illustrates the demoralizing effect of war on the human soul through the eyes of O’Brien and ultimately presents the prevailing theme of the story: that war is a multifaceted destroyer that wreaks havoc on not only the body, but also the mind.
O’Brien conveys this theme through a couple of short steps. First, he begins by breaking the story into a number of short sections, each with its own subject, in order to contrast the horror, senselessness, and brutality of war against the nature of Cross’s character. To do this, the sections more or less switch off between characterizing Cross and his immense love obsession with Martha and creating an elaborate depiction of the war’s horrors. For example, the first paragraph of the story introduces the reader to Martha and Cross’s love for her, illustrating his predicament in that “more than anything, he wanted [her] to love him as he loved her” (1). From this, the reader gets the sense of a hopeless young man who “[is] just a kid at war, in love,” thereby characterizing the lieutenant as a caring, emotional being (22). Once at that understanding, the reader moves onto the next section and instead of finding an intricate description of emotion, discovers a laundry list of the heavy supplies and personal items each soldier carried. In contrast to the one before it, this section is part of O’Brien’s description of war’s brutality, depicting the physical strain each soldier much endure before even getting in a firefight. Later, these descriptions of war are further continued with the vast descriptions of weaponry, representing the ever-present reality of shooting and death in war. Thus, as a result, both of these sections contrast one another incredibly well by juxtaposing two different tones, war and love, thereby driving the conveyance of the theme forward.
With this structure in place, O’Brien then fully develops a contrast between Cross and the other characters, which in many ways represent the effect of war’s brutality, in order to better illustrate the transformation and the theme. Thus, because of the multiple sections describing his unwavering love for Martha, there develops a contrast between the caring and seemingly “humanity” of Cross and the relative indifference to life possessed by his men. As certain sections describe Cross’s good luck pebbles, letters from Martha, and his constant inquiry into her feelings toward him, others describe Norman Bowker’s (one of Cross’s men) good luck thumb, which is cut off the hand of a “VC corpse, a boy of fifteen or sixteen” before another of Cross’s men kicks the dead boy’s head to “[watch] the flies scatter” (28, 34). When some sections document Cross’s daydreaming about attempts he could have made to show Martha how much he loves her, others describe the ways in which the soldiers burned and pillaged the village of Than Khe with airstrikes and then “watched the wreckage,” and how they made jokes about Lavender’s drug use and his death, saying that whole incident was a real “mind blower” for him (40, 72). Also, after Lavender’s death, the reader further sees this contrast by how disturbed Cross is and how his role in the death “he would have to carry like a stone in his stomach for the rest of the war;” however, on the other hand, his men, such as Kiowa, “[wish] [they] could find some great sadness…, but the emotion [isn’t] there” and are just “pleased to be alive” after the incident is all done (42, 60). With contrast effectively established, these vast differences help to portray Cross as a man who still is holding onto his past and has not totally succumbed to the mentality and brutality of war, making him a rare subject on O’Brien’s battlefield.
Yet, sooner or later, the contrast stops and the transformation takes place, finally revealing the theme of war’s multifaceted destruction on the individual. Based around the death of Lavender, the transformation of Lieutenant Cross occurs once he realizes that if he had not been daydreaming about Martha when the sniper killed Lavender, he could have been able to save him. Confronted with this immense amount of guilt and the sense of failing his duties, he is utterly overwhelmed and suddenly any idealism that the lieutenant had vanishes as he finally realizes “she did not love him and never would” (43). With a vengeance against himself, he becomes a changed man, ordering his men to torch the village of Than Khe, burning the pictures and letters of Martha, and vowing to “perform his duties firmly and without negligence” (99). Therefore, in a way, he becomes a machine, giving his complete focus to his responsibilities and pushing out of his mind any hopes or memories from back home. Now, much like his men, he is devoid of emotion and only concerned about humping it and getting their mission accomplished as to “avoid the blush of dishonor” (77). Ultimately, in the end, the transformation shows how war has ruined any optimism within the heart of a certain individual and thus finally O’Brien’s theme is conveyed to the reader.
In the end, “The Things They Carried” is a short, but chilling testament to the effects of war on the human soul and goes to show that, regardless of the mission, war is inevitably a destructive force.
O’Brien conveys this theme through a couple of short steps. First, he begins by breaking the story into a number of short sections, each with its own subject, in order to contrast the horror, senselessness, and brutality of war against the nature of Cross’s character. To do this, the sections more or less switch off between characterizing Cross and his immense love obsession with Martha and creating an elaborate depiction of the war’s horrors. For example, the first paragraph of the story introduces the reader to Martha and Cross’s love for her, illustrating his predicament in that “more than anything, he wanted [her] to love him as he loved her” (1). From this, the reader gets the sense of a hopeless young man who “[is] just a kid at war, in love,” thereby characterizing the lieutenant as a caring, emotional being (22). Once at that understanding, the reader moves onto the next section and instead of finding an intricate description of emotion, discovers a laundry list of the heavy supplies and personal items each soldier carried. In contrast to the one before it, this section is part of O’Brien’s description of war’s brutality, depicting the physical strain each soldier much endure before even getting in a firefight. Later, these descriptions of war are further continued with the vast descriptions of weaponry, representing the ever-present reality of shooting and death in war. Thus, as a result, both of these sections contrast one another incredibly well by juxtaposing two different tones, war and love, thereby driving the conveyance of the theme forward.
With this structure in place, O’Brien then fully develops a contrast between Cross and the other characters, which in many ways represent the effect of war’s brutality, in order to better illustrate the transformation and the theme. Thus, because of the multiple sections describing his unwavering love for Martha, there develops a contrast between the caring and seemingly “humanity” of Cross and the relative indifference to life possessed by his men. As certain sections describe Cross’s good luck pebbles, letters from Martha, and his constant inquiry into her feelings toward him, others describe Norman Bowker’s (one of Cross’s men) good luck thumb, which is cut off the hand of a “VC corpse, a boy of fifteen or sixteen” before another of Cross’s men kicks the dead boy’s head to “[watch] the flies scatter” (28, 34). When some sections document Cross’s daydreaming about attempts he could have made to show Martha how much he loves her, others describe the ways in which the soldiers burned and pillaged the village of Than Khe with airstrikes and then “watched the wreckage,” and how they made jokes about Lavender’s drug use and his death, saying that whole incident was a real “mind blower” for him (40, 72). Also, after Lavender’s death, the reader further sees this contrast by how disturbed Cross is and how his role in the death “he would have to carry like a stone in his stomach for the rest of the war;” however, on the other hand, his men, such as Kiowa, “[wish] [they] could find some great sadness…, but the emotion [isn’t] there” and are just “pleased to be alive” after the incident is all done (42, 60). With contrast effectively established, these vast differences help to portray Cross as a man who still is holding onto his past and has not totally succumbed to the mentality and brutality of war, making him a rare subject on O’Brien’s battlefield.
Yet, sooner or later, the contrast stops and the transformation takes place, finally revealing the theme of war’s multifaceted destruction on the individual. Based around the death of Lavender, the transformation of Lieutenant Cross occurs once he realizes that if he had not been daydreaming about Martha when the sniper killed Lavender, he could have been able to save him. Confronted with this immense amount of guilt and the sense of failing his duties, he is utterly overwhelmed and suddenly any idealism that the lieutenant had vanishes as he finally realizes “she did not love him and never would” (43). With a vengeance against himself, he becomes a changed man, ordering his men to torch the village of Than Khe, burning the pictures and letters of Martha, and vowing to “perform his duties firmly and without negligence” (99). Therefore, in a way, he becomes a machine, giving his complete focus to his responsibilities and pushing out of his mind any hopes or memories from back home. Now, much like his men, he is devoid of emotion and only concerned about humping it and getting their mission accomplished as to “avoid the blush of dishonor” (77). Ultimately, in the end, the transformation shows how war has ruined any optimism within the heart of a certain individual and thus finally O’Brien’s theme is conveyed to the reader.
In the end, “The Things They Carried” is a short, but chilling testament to the effects of war on the human soul and goes to show that, regardless of the mission, war is inevitably a destructive force.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Psycho Killer: Analyzing the Rationality of Miss Dent's Actions in John Cheever's "The Five-Forty-Eight"
In "The Five-Forty-Eight," the mentally-ill Miss Dent is a character of great dynamic and interest as she stalks and holds hostage her sexual abuser and former boss, Blake, and, through her actions, presents a question for the reader to take away with him or herself: were her actions in the story rational? or just a crazed fit produced by the synergy of her situation and her mental condition? While a bit inquisitive at first glance, a closer examination into the story answers this question, ultimately, revealing to us that, at the very core of her motives, her act of holding Blake hostage was quite irrational and purely a crazed fit caused by her unfortunate life situation.
To explain why this answer seems to be the correct one, one must first look deeper into retribution and the natural tendencies most people have when seeking it. For the majority of us, getting wronged or hurt in almost any way gives us a variety of negative emotions. Whether justified or cruel, that pain has an innate tendency to make us feel downtrodden or demoralized, as if we have failed and thus admitted our subordinance to whoever or whatever caused our suffering. But, as a result, our competitive nature, in turn, is ignited within us and thus begs us to seek out a manner in which we can punish our attackers and thereby regain a feeling of equality with them. For this reason, one can understand the motives behind Miss Dent's act and see how the will to seek revenge is simply human nature and therefore quite justified.
However, the irrationality--and thus insanity--of her crime comes into light upon investigating the execution of her plan to seek that retribution. Most of the time, the need to avenge our pains gives us a choice between two forms of punishments: violent punishment or emotional punishment. Those who choose violence often use anything from their fist to a gun to punish their enemy and, often times, are seeking to avenge a physical pain inflicted upon them. On the other hand, those who choose emotional punishment are usually much more moral in their actions and seek not to hurt their attackers physically, but to cause them to feel apologetic or bad.
With this in mind, the irrationality here becomes utterly limpid. First of all, the pain inflicted upon Miss Dent by Blake, while very evil and demeaning, is not physical at all. Emotional? yes. Sexual and physical? no, especially when one takes into account that Miss Dent slept with Blake voluntarily and with consent, thinking he was not unlike an amazing, divine being. On that note, her pain mostly comes from the act of using her for sex and then firing her from work, causing intense emotional distress and feelings of powerlessness and insecurity within herself (evidenced by her complete disappearance for about two weeks), especially in someone who is mentally ill. Therefore, in her instinctive search for retribution, she seeks the equivalent and would like Blake to feel the same fear, loss of power, and lack of self-confidence that she did.
Typically, given her pain, it would be expected that she would pursue the non-violent form of punishment, possibly filing a lawsuit against Blake or perhaps going to his superior and reporting the incident. That would be the most rational and justified approach. Instead, however, because of her mental condition that predisposes her to an irrational mindset that she cannot control, she chooses a more violent approach that is utterly unnecessary in the situation. Rather than find someone with more power than Blake, she is subjected by her mental state solely to her opinion of him as almost omnipotent. Thus, she is forced to seek out the method of becoming someone more powerful than Blake. This, combined with the fact that she really has no consequences (and is only subject to a return to the mental hospital if found guilty), thereby forces Miss Dent to make an irrational decision to pursue Blake and hold him at gunpoint to get her revenge.
In conclusion, regardless of the irrationality of the act, her attempt was successful and Miss Dent clearly accomplishes what she wants to do: re-establish that power and self-confidence within herself. Regardless of whether Blake learns his lesson or not, the fact that she controls his life for a relatively brief moment, causing him to sweat with fear, to attempt to reach out to his neighbors through eye language, and lie face-down in the dirt, is enough for her to regain her sense of self. Thus, in the end, she can simply walk off into the night, without ever having harmed Blake physically, and still remain as the somewhat heroine of the story. (788)
To explain why this answer seems to be the correct one, one must first look deeper into retribution and the natural tendencies most people have when seeking it. For the majority of us, getting wronged or hurt in almost any way gives us a variety of negative emotions. Whether justified or cruel, that pain has an innate tendency to make us feel downtrodden or demoralized, as if we have failed and thus admitted our subordinance to whoever or whatever caused our suffering. But, as a result, our competitive nature, in turn, is ignited within us and thus begs us to seek out a manner in which we can punish our attackers and thereby regain a feeling of equality with them. For this reason, one can understand the motives behind Miss Dent's act and see how the will to seek revenge is simply human nature and therefore quite justified.
However, the irrationality--and thus insanity--of her crime comes into light upon investigating the execution of her plan to seek that retribution. Most of the time, the need to avenge our pains gives us a choice between two forms of punishments: violent punishment or emotional punishment. Those who choose violence often use anything from their fist to a gun to punish their enemy and, often times, are seeking to avenge a physical pain inflicted upon them. On the other hand, those who choose emotional punishment are usually much more moral in their actions and seek not to hurt their attackers physically, but to cause them to feel apologetic or bad.
With this in mind, the irrationality here becomes utterly limpid. First of all, the pain inflicted upon Miss Dent by Blake, while very evil and demeaning, is not physical at all. Emotional? yes. Sexual and physical? no, especially when one takes into account that Miss Dent slept with Blake voluntarily and with consent, thinking he was not unlike an amazing, divine being. On that note, her pain mostly comes from the act of using her for sex and then firing her from work, causing intense emotional distress and feelings of powerlessness and insecurity within herself (evidenced by her complete disappearance for about two weeks), especially in someone who is mentally ill. Therefore, in her instinctive search for retribution, she seeks the equivalent and would like Blake to feel the same fear, loss of power, and lack of self-confidence that she did.
Typically, given her pain, it would be expected that she would pursue the non-violent form of punishment, possibly filing a lawsuit against Blake or perhaps going to his superior and reporting the incident. That would be the most rational and justified approach. Instead, however, because of her mental condition that predisposes her to an irrational mindset that she cannot control, she chooses a more violent approach that is utterly unnecessary in the situation. Rather than find someone with more power than Blake, she is subjected by her mental state solely to her opinion of him as almost omnipotent. Thus, she is forced to seek out the method of becoming someone more powerful than Blake. This, combined with the fact that she really has no consequences (and is only subject to a return to the mental hospital if found guilty), thereby forces Miss Dent to make an irrational decision to pursue Blake and hold him at gunpoint to get her revenge.
In conclusion, regardless of the irrationality of the act, her attempt was successful and Miss Dent clearly accomplishes what she wants to do: re-establish that power and self-confidence within herself. Regardless of whether Blake learns his lesson or not, the fact that she controls his life for a relatively brief moment, causing him to sweat with fear, to attempt to reach out to his neighbors through eye language, and lie face-down in the dirt, is enough for her to regain her sense of self. Thus, in the end, she can simply walk off into the night, without ever having harmed Blake physically, and still remain as the somewhat heroine of the story. (788)
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Blind Humor: Analyzing the Source of Humor in Raymond Carver's "Cathedral"
Upon finishing Raymond Carver's intriguing and mesmerizing short story "Cathedral," one seems to find a variety of thoughts and emotions casually strolling through his or her mind as he or she becomes immersed in the relaxed reflection the story invokes. Using surprise, curiosity, intrigue, and confusion, "Cathedral" keeps the reader thinking and inquiring long after he or she finishes it. Yet, among the feelings listed above, there also lingers a certain humor that seems, in many ways, out of place. The subject matter and the characters seem to be more boring and bland than funny. So, therefore, by the end of our reflection, we are begging to know how a story about a man overcoming his prejudices against blind people can be so funny. On further examination, however, the answer does not seem so concealed and it appears that it is Carver's unique writing style and interesting plot that hold the key to that much-anticipated question.
First, Carver's writing style invokes this sense of humor through the relationship he develops between his speaker and the reader. Much like how one would have a funny, casual conversation with a close friend, Carver's writing attempts to make friends between the main character and reader by keeping the speaker's narration rather informal and relaxed. Using interjections, colloquial diction, and side comments, the author crafts both an informality and a close bond between the reader and the speaker while also injecting the element of humor into the story. One example of this is when our narrator finishes his descriptions of his wife's former marriage with "etc." Although quite subtle and obviously leaving us out on many details, the injection of this word enhances the casual tone of the narration and, by its illustration of the speaker's utter indifference to his wife's previous relationships, makes the reader laugh. Consequently, one gets a sense of the narrator not only as someone he or she is talking to, but also as someone who comes off as dry-witted and funny. In turn, this results in a deeper character understanding that allows the reader to appreciate the speaker's mannerisms more and as the story continues he becomes funnier and funnier. Thus, writing like this permeates "Cathedral" and, with the deeper understanding of the main character, makes the story's plot seem even funnier.
On the other hand, the other element causing the humor here is simply the plot itself. At first glance, the story's plot would not come off as very funny. Characterized by no change of setting and absolutely no action, "Cathedral"'s lesson of a lazy, judging, and un-happily married man learning to see a blind man as more than his lack of sight through drawing appears to the unsuspecting reader to be dry at best. After reading it, however, it becomes apparent that this dry subject matter is, in fact, why the story is so funny. In an ironic way, the story's bland subject matter juxtaposed with the interest and intrigue the reader has afterwards very much creates a situation that many can find humorous, as if to say, "did I just read a story about two guys, one blind, smoking dope and drawing pictures?" Yes, you did. Furthermore, the fact that the two men are casually smoking marijuana, drinking, and staying up late adds to the humor because, in American culture, those actions are often associated with laziness and lack of motion, but, since the story has no physical action, Carver is forced to make smoking and drinking the very action that drives the plot forward. This, combined with the speaker's dry wit and Carver's unique and talented writing style, causes the story to end up being quite funny while still provoking thought and effectively getting the main theme of the story through.
In conclusion, "Cathedral" is a remarkably funny short story and the humor, theme, and the way to the two are intertwined within truly show the incredible talent that Raymond Carver had as a writer. The story amazingly demonstrates originality and creativity, and is, all in all, a favorite read so far this year.
First, Carver's writing style invokes this sense of humor through the relationship he develops between his speaker and the reader. Much like how one would have a funny, casual conversation with a close friend, Carver's writing attempts to make friends between the main character and reader by keeping the speaker's narration rather informal and relaxed. Using interjections, colloquial diction, and side comments, the author crafts both an informality and a close bond between the reader and the speaker while also injecting the element of humor into the story. One example of this is when our narrator finishes his descriptions of his wife's former marriage with "etc." Although quite subtle and obviously leaving us out on many details, the injection of this word enhances the casual tone of the narration and, by its illustration of the speaker's utter indifference to his wife's previous relationships, makes the reader laugh. Consequently, one gets a sense of the narrator not only as someone he or she is talking to, but also as someone who comes off as dry-witted and funny. In turn, this results in a deeper character understanding that allows the reader to appreciate the speaker's mannerisms more and as the story continues he becomes funnier and funnier. Thus, writing like this permeates "Cathedral" and, with the deeper understanding of the main character, makes the story's plot seem even funnier.
On the other hand, the other element causing the humor here is simply the plot itself. At first glance, the story's plot would not come off as very funny. Characterized by no change of setting and absolutely no action, "Cathedral"'s lesson of a lazy, judging, and un-happily married man learning to see a blind man as more than his lack of sight through drawing appears to the unsuspecting reader to be dry at best. After reading it, however, it becomes apparent that this dry subject matter is, in fact, why the story is so funny. In an ironic way, the story's bland subject matter juxtaposed with the interest and intrigue the reader has afterwards very much creates a situation that many can find humorous, as if to say, "did I just read a story about two guys, one blind, smoking dope and drawing pictures?" Yes, you did. Furthermore, the fact that the two men are casually smoking marijuana, drinking, and staying up late adds to the humor because, in American culture, those actions are often associated with laziness and lack of motion, but, since the story has no physical action, Carver is forced to make smoking and drinking the very action that drives the plot forward. This, combined with the speaker's dry wit and Carver's unique and talented writing style, causes the story to end up being quite funny while still provoking thought and effectively getting the main theme of the story through.
In conclusion, "Cathedral" is a remarkably funny short story and the humor, theme, and the way to the two are intertwined within truly show the incredible talent that Raymond Carver had as a writer. The story amazingly demonstrates originality and creativity, and is, all in all, a favorite read so far this year.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
The Middle-Age Wasteland: Parental Responsibility in "Teenage Wasteland"
In Anne Tyler's "Teenage Wasteland," the reader gets an extremely in-depth view into the difficulty and significance of parenting through Daisy's desperate attempt to save her son from his seemingly out-of-control, downward spiral. Consumed and overwhelmed with the dream of making Donnie a well-behaved, intelligent kid, Daisy's actions in the story become, in many ways, desperate and hurt Donnie in the end rather than help him, eventually leading to his mysterious disappearance at the end of the story. Thus, by means of this counterexample, Tyler creates a theme illustrating the importance of keeping one's head clear and focused when parenting, showing us that using common sense and logic is often better and more effective than solely using idealism and hope.
Central to developing this theme is the character of Cal, who enters the story about halfway through as an individual who is intended give Donnie "some academic help and a better sense of self-worth;" however, as the plot unfolds, Cal appears to provide Donnie with more of an escape from school and family life than with a means to confront it head on (37). Holding meetings at his house with his other students, rather than one-on-one in a classroom or office, Cal provides Donnie and the other teenagers there with a sociable, laid-back atmosphere, complete with ping-pong, rock music, and a basketball net. Furthermore, he takes them to rock concerts, lets them hang out at his house, and gets involved in their love lives. On top of that, the tutor's attitude and speech, often making comments such as "[we'll] see if we can show that school of yours a thing or two," gives off a sense of immaturity and rebelness that appeals more to teenagers than to the parents that are getting "flutters of panic" through their chests every time they receive a bill from Cal (37, 36). Independent from the context of the plot, these factors alone seem to portray an environment not suited to develop learning skills, but rather to create an escape from that development by providing a party house and a cool adult to make the escape possible.
Therefore, to the rational, clear-minded parent, the initial observations listed above and those that Daisy observes when she first walks in Cal's door should be a clear indication that sending one's child here would not be a good idea; yet, Daisy, in her disparity to salvage what she can of a kid who "had talent, was smart, and was good with his hands" at one time or another, ignores all these warning signs and lets Cal tutor Donnie, thus, becoming blinded by the seemingly quixotic desire to correct Donnie's faults (37). In essence, her optimism overcomes her rationality and common sense and gives Daisy a mindset ignorant of Cal's fallibility or the possible danger he may present to children (i.e. child molestation, assault, etc.). As a result, she foolishly lets Cal, and indirectly, Donnie, overrun her life and control her decisions. For example, when Cal calls Daisy and discusses with her how Donnie does not like the lack of trust given to him by his parents, Daisy agrees with Cal and goes along with his accusations that they "expect the worst from him" and that they "don't understand how [not being trusted] hurts," admitting that he's right rather than supporting her reasons for finding him untrustworthy (such as his drinking and smoking habits) (38). Furthermore, this trend continues even after one of Donnie's teachers call to say that his grades are slipping to F's and after Daisy learns that some of Cal's other students have been knifed, sent to boarding school, or taken out of the program; she simply remains quiet about any qualms she may have or submits herself to the reassuring responses of Calvin. By the end of the story, when Donnie gets expelled from school from having cigarettes and beer in his locker, it appears as if it is too late to help Donnie and Daisy's now-belated, but newly discovered opposition to Cal in his defense of Donnie regarding the expulsion is almost useless. Even though they put Donnie in public school and stop the tutoring sessions, the child "gather[s] no friends, join[s] no clubs," and is "defeated and exhausted" (42). Soon after, he disappears, never to be heard of again, and the story reveals the enormous and devastating impact Daisy's quixotic, blinding hopes had on Donnie. In the end, her good intentions and change of thought are too late and she ultimately becomes a failure by the normal standards of parenting.
In conclusion, from "Teenage Wasteland," we thus learn that truly it is the parent who should have the most influence on a child and that submitting that responsibility to another can often have disastrous consequences. Thus, in the true style of Anne Tyler, this story provides valuable insight into family values and provides us with lessons for us all to learn.
Central to developing this theme is the character of Cal, who enters the story about halfway through as an individual who is intended give Donnie "some academic help and a better sense of self-worth;" however, as the plot unfolds, Cal appears to provide Donnie with more of an escape from school and family life than with a means to confront it head on (37). Holding meetings at his house with his other students, rather than one-on-one in a classroom or office, Cal provides Donnie and the other teenagers there with a sociable, laid-back atmosphere, complete with ping-pong, rock music, and a basketball net. Furthermore, he takes them to rock concerts, lets them hang out at his house, and gets involved in their love lives. On top of that, the tutor's attitude and speech, often making comments such as "[we'll] see if we can show that school of yours a thing or two," gives off a sense of immaturity and rebelness that appeals more to teenagers than to the parents that are getting "flutters of panic" through their chests every time they receive a bill from Cal (37, 36). Independent from the context of the plot, these factors alone seem to portray an environment not suited to develop learning skills, but rather to create an escape from that development by providing a party house and a cool adult to make the escape possible.
Therefore, to the rational, clear-minded parent, the initial observations listed above and those that Daisy observes when she first walks in Cal's door should be a clear indication that sending one's child here would not be a good idea; yet, Daisy, in her disparity to salvage what she can of a kid who "had talent, was smart, and was good with his hands" at one time or another, ignores all these warning signs and lets Cal tutor Donnie, thus, becoming blinded by the seemingly quixotic desire to correct Donnie's faults (37). In essence, her optimism overcomes her rationality and common sense and gives Daisy a mindset ignorant of Cal's fallibility or the possible danger he may present to children (i.e. child molestation, assault, etc.). As a result, she foolishly lets Cal, and indirectly, Donnie, overrun her life and control her decisions. For example, when Cal calls Daisy and discusses with her how Donnie does not like the lack of trust given to him by his parents, Daisy agrees with Cal and goes along with his accusations that they "expect the worst from him" and that they "don't understand how [not being trusted] hurts," admitting that he's right rather than supporting her reasons for finding him untrustworthy (such as his drinking and smoking habits) (38). Furthermore, this trend continues even after one of Donnie's teachers call to say that his grades are slipping to F's and after Daisy learns that some of Cal's other students have been knifed, sent to boarding school, or taken out of the program; she simply remains quiet about any qualms she may have or submits herself to the reassuring responses of Calvin. By the end of the story, when Donnie gets expelled from school from having cigarettes and beer in his locker, it appears as if it is too late to help Donnie and Daisy's now-belated, but newly discovered opposition to Cal in his defense of Donnie regarding the expulsion is almost useless. Even though they put Donnie in public school and stop the tutoring sessions, the child "gather[s] no friends, join[s] no clubs," and is "defeated and exhausted" (42). Soon after, he disappears, never to be heard of again, and the story reveals the enormous and devastating impact Daisy's quixotic, blinding hopes had on Donnie. In the end, her good intentions and change of thought are too late and she ultimately becomes a failure by the normal standards of parenting.
In conclusion, from "Teenage Wasteland," we thus learn that truly it is the parent who should have the most influence on a child and that submitting that responsibility to another can often have disastrous consequences. Thus, in the true style of Anne Tyler, this story provides valuable insight into family values and provides us with lessons for us all to learn.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Summer Reading Blog
Summer Reading:
Tuesday's with Morrie by Mitch Albom
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon
Required: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Simply put, this list may not be the most impressive AP English summer reading resume that one has ever seen, but to be completely honest, that is simply due to the fact that reading has never been my number-one leisure activity. I do enjoy learning new things, discovering new perspectives on life's challenges, and investigating random inquiries that pop into my head, and I am completely committed to any reading assigned in school no matter what subject. Yet, it is the act of spending hours wedged into a sofa and being immersed into a jungle of paper and ink that really does not appeal to me and my active, outdoorsy interests. Yet, every once in a while, I come across a book that just happens to spark my leisurely interests enough to keep me wedged in that couch enough times over a month or so to make the journey to the end. This summer, that book just happened to be Tuesday's with Morrie by Mitch Albom.
A true story documenting the last few months the book's author spent with his long-time friend and old sociology professor, Morrie Schwartz, who was terminally ill with Lou Gehrig's Disease when work on the book began, Tuesday's with Morrie is the narration of a series of Tuesdays before Schwartz's death in which Albom tape-recorded his dying professor's observations on life and his thoughts what it means to live, love, die, and find happiness. Beginning with the reconnection and reunion of the two thirty or so years since Albom graduated Bowdoin and after his learning of Schwartz's disease through the popular television show Nightline, the book follows their journey of life lessons and, in turn, forces the reader to make an introspective look at his or her own reasons for living and perspectives on life.
By discussing such deep and meaningful subjects as relationships, friendships, death, birth (children), and material wealth verses spiritual wealth, I was deeply fascinated with the thoughts presented and quite overwhelmed with the immense amount of "food for thought" in the novel. Throughout the text, Schwartz's lesson's showed me that no matter how deep the subject matter, even the most complex and difficult problems in life are so simple to solve and usually come down to a black-and-white decision that is often easy to make. For example, in one instance, Morrie talks of road rage as a way to explain the impact and significance of everyday kindness. He notes how, back when he could drive, whenever someone would cut him off in traffic, he would often times raise up his fist as if to give the finger, then, at the last moment, turn his fist around, wave, and begin to smile. The vast majority of the time, he found a spontaneous smile or laugh as the response to his action, thereby showing us that kindness is so easily contagious and is one simple way to make yourself and others happy. Thus, the simple decision to not display an act of anger and aggression had a much more positive outcome than the converse. These kinds of simple lessons are packed throughout the novel, thus giving the reader a notion of simplicity in life, even when his or her problems may seem disastrous and unsolvable.
All in all, I found this book very refreshing and a great way to provoke my mind with philosophic ideas, while keeping me engaged with the modern, true-to-life story. In a heartbeat, I would recommend this book to anyone looking for a quick, easy, yet insightful read...or anyone just stuck wedged in a couch.
Tuesday's with Morrie by Mitch Albom
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon
Required: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Simply put, this list may not be the most impressive AP English summer reading resume that one has ever seen, but to be completely honest, that is simply due to the fact that reading has never been my number-one leisure activity. I do enjoy learning new things, discovering new perspectives on life's challenges, and investigating random inquiries that pop into my head, and I am completely committed to any reading assigned in school no matter what subject. Yet, it is the act of spending hours wedged into a sofa and being immersed into a jungle of paper and ink that really does not appeal to me and my active, outdoorsy interests. Yet, every once in a while, I come across a book that just happens to spark my leisurely interests enough to keep me wedged in that couch enough times over a month or so to make the journey to the end. This summer, that book just happened to be Tuesday's with Morrie by Mitch Albom.
A true story documenting the last few months the book's author spent with his long-time friend and old sociology professor, Morrie Schwartz, who was terminally ill with Lou Gehrig's Disease when work on the book began, Tuesday's with Morrie is the narration of a series of Tuesdays before Schwartz's death in which Albom tape-recorded his dying professor's observations on life and his thoughts what it means to live, love, die, and find happiness. Beginning with the reconnection and reunion of the two thirty or so years since Albom graduated Bowdoin and after his learning of Schwartz's disease through the popular television show Nightline, the book follows their journey of life lessons and, in turn, forces the reader to make an introspective look at his or her own reasons for living and perspectives on life.
By discussing such deep and meaningful subjects as relationships, friendships, death, birth (children), and material wealth verses spiritual wealth, I was deeply fascinated with the thoughts presented and quite overwhelmed with the immense amount of "food for thought" in the novel. Throughout the text, Schwartz's lesson's showed me that no matter how deep the subject matter, even the most complex and difficult problems in life are so simple to solve and usually come down to a black-and-white decision that is often easy to make. For example, in one instance, Morrie talks of road rage as a way to explain the impact and significance of everyday kindness. He notes how, back when he could drive, whenever someone would cut him off in traffic, he would often times raise up his fist as if to give the finger, then, at the last moment, turn his fist around, wave, and begin to smile. The vast majority of the time, he found a spontaneous smile or laugh as the response to his action, thereby showing us that kindness is so easily contagious and is one simple way to make yourself and others happy. Thus, the simple decision to not display an act of anger and aggression had a much more positive outcome than the converse. These kinds of simple lessons are packed throughout the novel, thus giving the reader a notion of simplicity in life, even when his or her problems may seem disastrous and unsolvable.
All in all, I found this book very refreshing and a great way to provoke my mind with philosophic ideas, while keeping me engaged with the modern, true-to-life story. In a heartbeat, I would recommend this book to anyone looking for a quick, easy, yet insightful read...or anyone just stuck wedged in a couch.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
