Oedipus's Struggle: Human Nature's Resistance Against the Inevitable in Sophocles's "Oedipus the King"

Sophocles's Oedipus the King, one of the Western Literature's most re-known tragic plays, the reader witnesses an ill-fated and doomed Oedipus, King of Thebes, slowly reach his fate as the one destined to kill his father, marry his mother, and start a family; yet, despite numerous warning signs from the beginning of the book, it is difficult to understand (and quite thought-provoking) as to why Oedipus, who is confronted with a mound of evidence prior to his realization and is so hellbent on finding the man who killed Laius and thus freeing his people from the deadly plague, waits so long to admit he is the one who must be ridden from the city. As one looks closer into this matter, it soon becomes quite plausible that in fact the one thing holding Oedipus back from his assertion of his fate is man's everlasting concept of hope.

Generally, when people are faced with situations that are quite disastrous to themselves, they usually hold out to hopefully hear a conclusion separate from the one they dread. Even if the evidence present points to that worst case scenario, the people involved never give up and always hold on to the hope of a miracle at the end. As a result, the truth is never fully admitted until the end is completely near and the horrible conclusion has been confirmed beyond a reasonable doubt. Innate within every individual that is born, this natural concept of hope is something that drives individuals to motivate themselves, push themselves, and stay alive, even when the odds are clearly against them and the ending is nothing other than inevitable to an outsider looking in.

Therefore, I believe the reason to which Oedipus was so stubborn in admitting to the fact he was the one who had killed is father and was, at that very time, filling out the prophecy was simply that common human notion of hope. Consumed with fear and dread, he never was able to step away from the situation and see what was going on from an unbiased, unaffected perspective, eventually ignoring the obvious evidence all around him simply because of his unstoppable hope. For example, when Teiresias first enters the story, he is regarded as a "student of mysteries, of all that that's taught and all that no man tells, secrets of Heaven and secrets of the earth" and as the only person that "can guard and save [the Thebians and their city]. (1293)" Yet, despite the honored introduction, within a few lines, Oedipus is disregarding Teiresias's information and accusing him of making it up because of a bribing scheme set up by Creon. Within only a few minutes it seems, Oedipus's opinion of Teiresias changes from one of respect and unworldly wisdom to one of hatred and disgust, simply because he does not tell what he wants to hear.

Furthermore, as this continues in similar fashion with people such as Jocasta and Creon, there is also ample evidence to suggest that, upon hearing about the Oracle's prophecy declaring that the killer of Laius should be expelled from the city, Oedipus knew it could be himself. In the beginning of the novel, as he explains to his people what he would be willing to give the person who came up and either admitted themselves as the murderer or pointed out who he was, he openly prays to the gods that "that man's life be consumed in evil and wretchedness," adding, "And as for me, this curse applies no less (1292)." Also, this occurs again as Oedipus reveals his story of leaving Corinth and coming to Thebes in hopes of outrunning the Delphi oracle's prophecy. He mentions the fact he killed a man at a place where three highways come together and that it could be Laius. As a result, he considers his involvement in the murder for the first time in the play, yet, still does not fully admit to doing it, even though there are too many coincidences to still render him innocent. Only until the messenger, the second messenger, and the shepherd arrive to tell him entirely of the prophecy he already knows does he finally decide that he must have been the one to commit the murder and that Jocasta has to be his mother. Thus, doomed to his fate and accepting his wretched existence, he runs off to the palace and later stabs his eyes out upon witnessing Jocasta's suicide.

As a result, it seems quite possible that Oedipus the King, among many other themes, also serves to give us an insight to the idea of hope and how that affects our acceptance of the inevitable. Whether dictated from a prophet or not, our fates are ultimately set in stone, but the hope that we can avoid the evil that might lie within it is a driving factor that shapes who we are as people and how we approach our problems. In the end, hope was what drove Oedipus to his gloomy blindness, so hellbent on his escape from what was his end that he had no other way to confront the pain when his fate came true and indirectly killed his mother, thus, serving as a lesson to all that hope is a double-edged sword that can shape the outcomes of our lives. (885)

Comments on Leo Tolstoy's "The Death of Ivan Ilyich"

In Ronald Blythe's introduction to Leo Tolstoy's classic novella "The Death of Ivan Ilyich," Blythe notes that the book "evokes the sheer desolating aloneness of dying," referring to the fashion in which Ivan dies: with none of his loved ones by his side. At an first glance, this thematic observation may seem a relevant and noteworthy comment; however, if one steps back and re-examines the novella as a whole, it seems quite possible that maybe the story is much less about the isolation in death and much more about the importance having loved ones at one's side during that time of passing. Using Ivan's demise his method of delivery, Tolstoy sends a powerful and significant message, showing us that the more one is alone in his or her life, the more he or she will be alone in death.

Upon closer inspection to the downfall of Ivan, we witness many factors that lead to his being alone in death. Perhaps the most noticeable factor is his horrible relationship with his wife. Annoyed with her shallow disposition and constant nagging and realizing that he married the woman for all the wrong reasons, Ivan has much trouble getting along with his wife and consequently seeks refuge in his work. As a result, he becomes alienated from her throughout his life and, except for one brief period, they are not able to reconcile their differences.

As the plot carries on, we also learn that this detachment from Praskovya Fedorovna transcends his relationship with his daughter as well, who is, in many ways, much better connected to her mother than her father. This is probably mostly his fault, as is his marriage troubles are, but nevertheless, that absence of connection between his daughter and him further renders him alone and isolated at the time of his death.

Furthermore, Ivan's friendships, or lack thereof, are also another set of reasons why he finds himself without anyone at the time of his death. Due to his constant moves throughout Russia while taking new judicial positions, he never secures any deep friendships that last for long periods of time, despite his frequent use of work as an escape from his household troubles. In addition, he also constantly keeps his personal life separated from his official life, impeding his ability to form personal friendships in a professional setting. As a result, the relationships he does make with people happen to be shallow and without much meaning, leaving co-workers longing for his position rather than his survival when he falls ill.

In the end, all these factors lead to an alone and miserable Ivan, who remains confused as to why no one understands or cares for the fact he may die any day. In his confusion, he reacts only with anger, upset that no one has the common decency to at least try to show compassion for his condition; however, this anger simply pushes those around him further way, especially his wife and his daughter, to whom he constantly orders to go away and leave him alone in his last moments on earth. Only those who weren't so near to him before the illness, such as the young servant Gerasim, can become close to Ivan. Without any personal history to provide conflict, Ivan and Gerasim are able to develop a close relationship and Ivan is finally able to find someone who understands and cares for him in this time of need.

Therefore, in light of the incredibly sad and depressing death of Ivan, it seems quite apparent that Tolstoy's true intention was to demonstrate the importance of developing close ties with those one loves the most so that he or she does not meet a similar fate. And, thus, by learning from these mistakes, we can ensure ourselves a family-filled and intimate passing surrounded by those who truly care and love for us. (644)

Comparisons of Motive in both Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness" and J.M. Coetzee's "Waiting for the Barbarians"

John Conrad's Heart of Darkness and J.M. Coetzee's Waiting for the Barbarians are two quite similar books that portray a search for morals about colonization and that question the righteousness in the motives of huge imperial empires, from the Conrad's Imperial Africa to Coetzee's South-African police state, to colonize. Focusing on one character and his internal struggle between what his country thinks is right and what he thinks is right, the two novels ultimately arrive at the same conclusion: colonialism is a terrifying and horrific practice that blurs the line between the civilized and the uncivilized.

Both told from a first-person perspective, the novels ultimately reach this common theme through the way in which they present it. For starters, both novels begin at a restful state, one where the conflict of morals and the physical conflict that initiates it has not yet begun. In Heart of Darkness, this peaceful situation happens when Marlow is simply applying for the job, completing a typical transition from one job and a period of unemployment to the next. Similarly, in Waiting for the Barbarians, the magistrates post is relatively peaceful and, while he is a bit upset and curious about why Colonel Joll has locked up the man and the boy, who appear completely innocent, he himself is completely fine and any doubts about morality are simply pushed aside and the book moves forward.

Then, as the plots move along, a slow, but steady questioning of morality begins to enter the minds of the protagonist. In the magistrate's situation, it is the arrival and his subsequent affair with the barbarian girl that causes him to seriously question the morality of the Empire's actions. He realizes that he more or less has strong feelings for the girl, despite the fact she is of the "inferior race" or a "barbarian," and, as a result, begins to wonder why they are trying to launch a land-confiscating war against a people that can love and be loved just as much as any one of the Empire's citizens. With Marlow's case, this same situation arises as he notices the attitude taken toward the natives in the Congo and, because of his complete naivety to any and all culture of Africa, is quite shocked by the opinions he hears of people who are just as human as he is. For both these people, these situations eventually lead into that greater questioning, in which what each character's employer is doing seems quite wrong. For Marlow, this thinking predisposes him to a view that in arguably takes favor to the natives and sets himself up for the greater, physical challenge ahead. For the magistrate, sleeping with the girl and asking himself why he is so enthralled with her opens up the door to new inquiries, such as what happened in Joll's torture rooms and why the Empire is taking prisoners and torturing and killing them when, in his mind, there is clearly no offense being launched upon the frontier. These events ultimately set the stage for the climatic events that follow.

Finally, sooner or later, each story reaches that breaking point, where the main character is finally challenged in regard to what he believes and put through a test of both endurance and horror in order to see whether or not those beliefs will hold. This point is obvious in Waiting for the Barbarians, as the breaking point is undoubtedly the arrest of the magistrate upon his return from the moral act of returning the barbarian girl. Through torture and captivity, this period of the book is where his beliefs are challenged to the point of abandonment as he asks himself why does he care about the barbarians so much, was does he care about what is right, and why he is opposed to the colonization that the Empire has gone forth with. Luckily for the magistrate, his beliefs stay with him, regardless of the ends they are pushed to and as the story wraps up, they are able to resurface in a better light.

On the other hand, in Heart of Darkness, Conrad pushes Marlow to this point when he finally arrives at the station with Kurtz and Marlow decides that Kurtz's opinions toward the natives are more honorable and righteous than that of the Russian and the manager. As a result, he becomes almost vilified by the two white men, who regard Kurtz as a lost cause who has sadly been consumed by the savage way of thinking. This leads to further difficulties once Kurtz dies as Marlow is now faced with the prospect of figuring out the meaning of Kurtz's last words, while, at the same time, dealing with the death of the only person who had the same perspective on Africa as he did. Thankfully for Marlow, however, he soon becomes ill and it is not long until he is evacuated from the jungle and makes his return to the mainland of Europe.

In the end, both characters ultimately cleanse themselves of their moral dilemmas, with Marlow returning to Europe and the magistrate finally leading an autonomous town that lives at peace and without the moral ignorance of the Empire overhanging its streets, and thus the stories conclude.

From these outlines, it is quite apparent that the two stories are more or less the exact same and thus, their lesson that challenging authority and doing whats right ultimately works out in the end and so should be pursued no matter what is equally supported by both works. While both books may have a few different perspectives, this lesson is still prevalent in equal and whether a reader reads one or another is irrelevant: the message is still the same. Furthermore, the "hero's journey" that both characters go through also add to the theme by giving a process to moral questioning in order to give readers the ability to recognize it both in themselves and also in their own leaders. From this process, people can hopefully better identify the good and the evil in similar situations in the future, whether simply in one's own life or in the government of one's resident country. Therefore, because of these valuable lessons, Waiting for the Barbarians and Heart of Darkness are both amazing works and will continue to probe the topic of morality and empire for centuries.

Initial Impressions on J.M. Coetzee's "Waiting for the Barbarians"

After reading Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness for a few weeks, one would generally not be extremely excited to explore yet another short colonization novel that takes place around the turn of the century; however, after only reading three chapters, I can honestly say I am surprised to find I thoroughly enjoy J.M. Coetzee's Waiting for the Barbarians. Given the long, tedious, and often tangential narration of Conrad's novel and considering the fact the curriculum intends for us to compare the two books, I found myself not at all apprehensive about reading Coetzee's story and constantly procrastinating on the completion of the assignment. Yet, as I began reading, I honestly could not put it down. One of the first things that jumped out at me is simply the style in which Coetzee writes. Using prose, colloquial language and a vivid present tense, the style of the book's narration creates a very captivating discussion effect, as if the Magistrate is actually with you face-to-face, telling you his story. For example, in the very first paragraph of the novel, the book opens with "I have never seen anything like it: two little discs of glass suspended in front of his eyes in loops of wire. Is he blind? I could understand it if he wanted to hide blind eyes. But he is not blind," and thus creating a clear thought dialogue that the reader instantly attaches him or herself to. In fact, this style is relatively similar to that of Marlow's narration in Conrad's book, but without the tedious and somewhat overzealous descriptions.

Furthermore, I was also drawn into the book by the magistrate's character, a quite right-minded man who to seems very sexually-focused as well. The first time we see him, we immediately notice his rather unorthodox position toward Colonel Joll's treatment of the natives. Given the fact the novel takes place around the turn of the century and that we get the impression the magistrate is white, the view he takes is extremely admirable and righteous. When Joll moves to capture as many natives as possible and torture them for answers into the whereabouts of the barbarian forces and the plans to their rumored revolution, the magistrate expresses opposition and feeds, provides doctors, and otherwise supports their well-being and ultimate return to their native lands. Yet, for reasons probably deliberately withheld from the reader, he cannot fully exercise enough power to shoot down the colonel's orders and, at least while he is there, prisoners are still taken and horrendous torture is carried out in their interrogations.

On the other hand, the magistrate also becomes an interesting character because of his intense sexual desires and his apparent love for the ex-prisoner that is now his servant. The fact that he is such an old man but is still sexually driven, sleeping with twenty-year-old girls and the native one, essentially shocks the reader, bringing him or her closer into the book with the hope of discovering more shocking details. As his makeshift love story ensues, the odd nature of it keeps us enthralled and the relative ups and downs of the relationship, from their physical break to his actually sleeping with her, helps the book to move forward fast.

In regards to the story itself, it was simply the weirdness of it that kept me reading. Its essentially a story of an old, white, and politically-powerful governor in his colonial land falling in love with a blind, tortured, and ex-captive native girl who only became the magistrate's servant because he could not have beggars on the streets. This oddly captivating story thus makes you want to continue reading in hopes of discovering anything else that adds to the unusual plot. Thus, between the ease of reading, the interesting protagonist, and the shocking plot, Waiting for the Barbarians is one book I'm very interested to continue reading to see where it leads.

Notes Regarding "The Congo Diary" by Joseph Conrad (My Actual Assigned One)

--Attempts to portray a visual description of the Congo and the African landscape (p. 254)
--Tries to document everyday life in the Congo (how miserable it is, the people, the way the villages and European stations are set up, the living conditions, etc.)
--Various descriptions show the horrors of the colonization of Africa (about the dead bodies and skeletons, etc.)
--Racist tones (p. 255)
--p.260--tells of the African chief who brought a youth with a gunshot wound to the head into the station to receive medical care. Interesting.
--The descriptions of the first few days of the river journey sound like instructions meant for the use of later explorers; almost like a map of words.

Main Points Regarding the "Seclected Letters En Route to the Congo"

• Given reinforcing insight into the parallel connections between Conrad and his character Marlow
• Outlines Conrad's extensive journey prior to his departure for the Congo and who he visited with
• Reflections upon how Conrad felt prior to his departure (ie. his temperment and view on the risks involved with the journey and the job)
• Close connection with family
• Marguerite Poradowska--model for Marlow's aunt in the story
• Expresses those feelings of loyalty and love toward her in the second-to-last letter; she is too him a positive distraction from the problems within his life.

Closure in the Last Section of The Sound and The Fury

In William Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury, the fourth and last section of the novel delivers an interesting, but atypical conclusion to an already abnormal novel. Upon reading the last section, one might feel as if the novel ends incomplete and without resolution of the Compson family tragedy. Benjy is still treated more like a dog than as a human; Jason still runs the household with an iron fist; Mother remains the selfish, "o-so-pitiful" matriarch; and now both Caddy and Quentin are absent from the novel, after having escaped into the world outside Jefferson. Yet, while in the average story, this conclusion may be regarded as inconclusive, it is, in fact, the exact conclusion that Faulkner wants. According to Lawrence Edward Bowling, a professor at Kenyon College, "The Sound and the Fury is a novel about disorder, disintegration, and the absence of perspective" that is centered around "the internal chaos of the characters,--their intellectual, moral, and spiritual confusion" (Bowling 15). Thus, it is Faulkner's main intention to leave the reader with such a conclusion in order to reflect the chaos and disorder plaguing the family and that he views as his main theme. By leaving all the remaining characters in their current predicaments--Benjy screaming, Luster out of it, mother absent from the rest, and Jason as angry as ever--he effectively demonstrates that this order cannot be resolved and that three decades has done no good to help this chaotic family. Ultimately, on a larger scale, this ending, as well as the book as a whole, shows a tragic transformation of family from the nineteenth to the twentieth century and thus provides modernist critique of twentieth century life.