By heaven. Has it really been since September that I last wrote in this blog? I haven't been idle, if that comforts anyone. It does me a great comfort given that I usually spend quite a bit of time idle.
`There's been October, which really needs no excuse. October is a time for celebration for my people, the Autumnals, and is the one month of the year which I look forward to the most. It's also the one month of the year where the temperature is perfect for going out of doors. The summer is too sticky, spring too wishy washy, and winter too frigid by half. October is, in a word, perfection.
There was a wedding in there somewhere within that month, and a vacation to Colonial Williamsburg.
November was my birthday and the time of NaNoWriMo was upon me in which I get really crabby, exhausted, and want nothing to do with writing after the requisite 50k words have been accomplished.
December came quite hard and fast, as they are wont to do. You never realize how busy a December can be until you're in recovery mode somewhere in the later part of the month. And that's why we find ourselves here and now. While in recovery I finished Little Women.
I don't remember if, and I'm too lazy to go look, I talked last time about the marked difference between the first half of the novel and the last half. Part two took me completely by surprise with the difference in tone. It was as if so much time had elapsed between the two parts that she had no idea where to begin and, when in doubt, moralize.
Ms. Alcott did have quite a bit of moralizing going on in the novel to begin with, however she diffused it by employing her characters rather than herself as the agent of it. If I was a better blogger I would have researched the time in between parts, but alas. What I do suspect is that the two parts were sold separately and she was told what people liked about the first part. Praise before a novel's completion can be a terrible thing.
A few months ago at my writer's group the members had almost universal praise for my chapter, especially how poetic each line was which was so appropriate for the genre and subject matter. It was so well praised that when I sat down to write the next chapter instead of flowing naturally like it usually does I was given to fits and half starts. Why? Because I was focusing on the poetry of the language than the actual story.
Halfway through this second half of the book, somewhere around where Mr. Bhaer is established as a fixture in Jo's life away from home having moved beyond acquaintance, Alcott picks up with the verve, wit, and natural ease of her writing that I quite admire. The little pastiches showing life with Meg's family became a bit heavy handed again, but I do have to admit that the problems they suffered are remarkably still issues in families today.
I was as surprised as anyone to find that my opinion of Amy has actually softened. My recollection of the movie version was that they tried to turn it into a little love triangle with Amy stealing Laurie and Jo being outraged or, at least, a little miffed about the whole thing. Here I was actually overjoyed to find that Amy grew up, that she caused Laurie to grow up, and Jo was completely grown up about the whole thing; that she truly never did harbor any feelings Laurie beyond sisterhood. I do understand that it's difficult to make a wholly interesting movie in the modern age with that as the story, and I wonder how many faithful readers of the book were outraged. Jo didn't miss her chance because she never wanted one. Showing a young woman who is actually mature, wise, and thoughtful would likely be an unbelievable thing in media these days where we embrace figures who live on the edge, are incomplete without a man (any man), and act foolishly at every turn but it all seems to work out in the end anyway.
I was equally interested in Beth's passing. It was such an understated, almost normal sort of thing to happen. I suppose most of that is due to the fact that everyone knew, had time to prepare, and loved her through the whole ordeal. Had it been a sudden death it would have been handled differently, I'm sure. Mourning occurred but it wasn't drawn out. The pain was there but not quite so acutely portrayed. So much of modern movies and books is all about grabbing you by the emotions and tugging as hard as you can. This was something different; a sweet passing, a gentle goodbye, a loving caress of a death. I could moralize here myself and write about how we are so desensitized and so yearn to feel anything that of course we gravitate towards more overtly emotional tales.
The romance of Bhaer and Jo was something that I was naturally predisposed to enjoy. Separation, mounds of letters in a year, sensible yet whole hearted love between them, etc. is something that mirrors my own love story. Ok, my beloved was the sensible one. I was the one who racked up a $450 phone bill while she was at school in Oxford. I've never claimed sensibility when it comes to my bride.
My only complaint about the novel, and it is such a petty thing, was the ending. It ends as it began, of course, being a portrait of a simple, loving family with all their faults, foibles, blessings, and the wisdom of their parents on display. I can't imagine an appropriate ending that would tie everything in a nice bow, and so perhaps I shouldn't complain.
Overall I pretty much loved this novel, and all the more to find that Amy doesn't remain a hideous person. I set out on this journey to see if the novels would change me, and so far they have, this one especially. When I consider their "simple" life I don't do too much romanticizing. Modernity certainly has more avenues to and support for living a crazed hectic life, but somewhere between the pages I made a connection. It's a connection I'm not sure I can vocalize here, but naturally I'll try.
There wasn't more time in a day back then with which we could sit, ruminate, and come to a correct course of action. There are a bajillion more choices of things we can do with our time, but that is what they all are; choices. The life best lived is not in embracing every possibility of what we can do with our time, but choosing well and, as it laughably turns out, choosing fewer. The right things, the beneficial things, the healthy things, the great and honorable things are all still there for us to choose. They have endured. Maybe society is more like my daughter who prefers the mediocre but color episodes of The Andy Griffith Show because, "Old things are not good and these are better because they are new" (yes...she'll be brought to wisdom if I have to drag her kicking and screaming). I've gained an appreciation for the old and timeless because of those two qualities. The old endures because of its virtues and timeless things are...well...timeless. I shy away from every brand new iteration of Apple Products that they just have to have while the old one is just as usable. A disposable, constantly upgradeable society is by its very nature a house of cards. We have virtue and principles when it is convenient and violate them when it is not, and that's not the world I want to live in. Remember...once upon a time a handshake was a legal agreement...and now we prenup our marriages.
Likesay, I'm not sure where I'm headed because of these books, but I'm fairly certain it will be better than the direction I was heading without them.
Pax,
W
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Saturday, September 19, 2015
Highs, Lows, Frustrations, and Joys (Ch. 11-22)
Now that I am half way through Little Woman, I've come to the conclusion that it would never have a market in this modern day.
As a writer, I've been through the query process many times, and the biggest criticism I have gotten on my work is that I start off too slow. You need a good hook in the first page/paragraph/sentence/half sentence that will propel the prospective reader in a hurtling death race to the final page. If you can make it dystopian, dark, gritty, oversexed, and maybe a teeny tiny bit about demons or dark magic then all the better. A book about a random period of time with the major driving plot point being that the father is off to war and sick just wouldn't cut it these days. I mean, let's face it, nothing major happens. It's a book about relationships and a slice of life. You'd pretty much only find a probable audience for the novel in the Christian Fiction market.
These days it doesn't matter how well written it is, and don't get me wrong I believe Little Women to be one of the best written books of all time, if it doesn't fit a certain formula it isn't going to be picked up. Honestly, if you put Hunger Games and Little Women up against each other vying for an agent's pickup which do you think would get picked? Exactly. And it's a tragedy. Certainly they are each in a different genre, but it's a shame that there is nothing modern to compare it to. There's the odd straight "fiction" novel that breaks onto the public consciousness like Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, Life of Pi, or The Help, but nothing that endures like these past few books and I wonder why that is. The classics have a completely different feel than anything modern. Whether we bring that to the reading because they are designated as classics would make for an interesting discussion to have, but for now, and for decades, nothing our species has written has endured for long at all. Maybe we can't tell during our time in the same way people didn't know that they were in the Renaissance while it was happening.
My personal opinion, however, is that this work simply glows from scene to scene. I've mentioned before about how the magic of these novels is in their reality, that this is really how people are and have all the hallmarks of having actually happened. The newspaper, along with their little alter egos, and post office adventures are extremely endearing.
It reminds me of the sorts of things my own children come up with when they are "dying" of boredom. Lately when they say, "I'm bored!", I respond with a hearty, "Congratulations!". After a minute of the confused look on their faces they ask why I'm congratulating them. "Because, that means that you're on the edge of making up some great game, or might end up acting out a play of a story, or you'll get an amazing idea that you wouldn't have if you'd been on devices or watching TV. We should get you bored more often". That usually gets me an eye roll, an aggravated sigh, and fists on hips, but within ten minutes they usually prove me right.
My daughter chose Little Women (abridged version) as her book report book a few weeks ago. Probably the biggest reaction she showed (other than "Wow, Papa, Amy is just downright mean") was the experiment of the girls to try and do nothing, to have a little holiday. Ever since reading about that, and especially Beth's unfortunate casualty, she has endeavored to work a little harder even on the days she has free of chores. Appropriately it has affected me in quite similar ways in the care and keeping of our home.
"Have regular hours for work and play, make each day both useful and pleasant, and prove that you understand the worth of time by employing it well. Then youth will be delightful, old age will bring few regrets, and life become a beautiful success, in spite of poverty."
Try telling that to kids, let alone adults, these days and you'll get a response akin to, "Don't you tell me how to live my life. You don't know me!".
In my daughter's homeschool materials I was delighted to find that at the top of her arithmetic pages and her spelling pages there are verses and maxims for her to read. It used to be fairly standard in schools to have these "copybook headings". We've become a culture that is obsessed with burning down the previous standards. "If it's old it's bad," is something I've heard and even out of my own daughter's mouth. It is an extremely human tendency to throw the baby out with the bathwater. It is a far easier thing to look at edifices and institutions of the past and say "burn it" than go through the hard work off picking over what is worth saving and taking with us. As a species we always do what is easiest and most emotionally satisfying rather than what is actually best for us. The older I get, the farther I look back and the more fastidious I am about sorting through the burnt wreckage for gems.
"Camp Laurence" was a delight. I love it when I'm nostalgic for an era that I've never even been a part of. Certainly I'm guilty of romanticizing the past and would find things to complain about if I were transported across space and time, but I do so love it, regardless.
Also, I love that Jo and I share the same birth month. I do look at November far more pleasantly as a month because I was born on the first day of it.
Then the darkness comes...father is sick, Mother must leave, and then, while gone, Beth becomes sick. Even though I knew it was coming, Beth getting sick was a blow. I would write more except that I apparently don't like to talk about it. Because of this, the return of Mr. March is incredibly bittersweet. I do delight in Jo's quiet fury regarding the possibility that Meg and Mr. Brooke may get together. There is something so honest, so genuine, about that emotion and how it plays out.
My great hope is that I'll be able to purposefully carve out more time for the novel. I do have quite an affection for it. It may even become one of those novels I dig out every year to remind myself there are encouraging and wondrous things in this world when it gets dark.
Of course October is the month that I read the Ray Bradbury novel Something Wicked This Way Comes to my daughter. If you are looking for a good book for the prelude to Halloween it is very much worth your time, as is all Bradbury content.
Pax,
W
As a writer, I've been through the query process many times, and the biggest criticism I have gotten on my work is that I start off too slow. You need a good hook in the first page/paragraph/sentence/half sentence that will propel the prospective reader in a hurtling death race to the final page. If you can make it dystopian, dark, gritty, oversexed, and maybe a teeny tiny bit about demons or dark magic then all the better. A book about a random period of time with the major driving plot point being that the father is off to war and sick just wouldn't cut it these days. I mean, let's face it, nothing major happens. It's a book about relationships and a slice of life. You'd pretty much only find a probable audience for the novel in the Christian Fiction market.
These days it doesn't matter how well written it is, and don't get me wrong I believe Little Women to be one of the best written books of all time, if it doesn't fit a certain formula it isn't going to be picked up. Honestly, if you put Hunger Games and Little Women up against each other vying for an agent's pickup which do you think would get picked? Exactly. And it's a tragedy. Certainly they are each in a different genre, but it's a shame that there is nothing modern to compare it to. There's the odd straight "fiction" novel that breaks onto the public consciousness like Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, Life of Pi, or The Help, but nothing that endures like these past few books and I wonder why that is. The classics have a completely different feel than anything modern. Whether we bring that to the reading because they are designated as classics would make for an interesting discussion to have, but for now, and for decades, nothing our species has written has endured for long at all. Maybe we can't tell during our time in the same way people didn't know that they were in the Renaissance while it was happening.
My personal opinion, however, is that this work simply glows from scene to scene. I've mentioned before about how the magic of these novels is in their reality, that this is really how people are and have all the hallmarks of having actually happened. The newspaper, along with their little alter egos, and post office adventures are extremely endearing.
It reminds me of the sorts of things my own children come up with when they are "dying" of boredom. Lately when they say, "I'm bored!", I respond with a hearty, "Congratulations!". After a minute of the confused look on their faces they ask why I'm congratulating them. "Because, that means that you're on the edge of making up some great game, or might end up acting out a play of a story, or you'll get an amazing idea that you wouldn't have if you'd been on devices or watching TV. We should get you bored more often". That usually gets me an eye roll, an aggravated sigh, and fists on hips, but within ten minutes they usually prove me right.
My daughter chose Little Women (abridged version) as her book report book a few weeks ago. Probably the biggest reaction she showed (other than "Wow, Papa, Amy is just downright mean") was the experiment of the girls to try and do nothing, to have a little holiday. Ever since reading about that, and especially Beth's unfortunate casualty, she has endeavored to work a little harder even on the days she has free of chores. Appropriately it has affected me in quite similar ways in the care and keeping of our home.
"Have regular hours for work and play, make each day both useful and pleasant, and prove that you understand the worth of time by employing it well. Then youth will be delightful, old age will bring few regrets, and life become a beautiful success, in spite of poverty."
Try telling that to kids, let alone adults, these days and you'll get a response akin to, "Don't you tell me how to live my life. You don't know me!".
In my daughter's homeschool materials I was delighted to find that at the top of her arithmetic pages and her spelling pages there are verses and maxims for her to read. It used to be fairly standard in schools to have these "copybook headings". We've become a culture that is obsessed with burning down the previous standards. "If it's old it's bad," is something I've heard and even out of my own daughter's mouth. It is an extremely human tendency to throw the baby out with the bathwater. It is a far easier thing to look at edifices and institutions of the past and say "burn it" than go through the hard work off picking over what is worth saving and taking with us. As a species we always do what is easiest and most emotionally satisfying rather than what is actually best for us. The older I get, the farther I look back and the more fastidious I am about sorting through the burnt wreckage for gems.
"Camp Laurence" was a delight. I love it when I'm nostalgic for an era that I've never even been a part of. Certainly I'm guilty of romanticizing the past and would find things to complain about if I were transported across space and time, but I do so love it, regardless.
Also, I love that Jo and I share the same birth month. I do look at November far more pleasantly as a month because I was born on the first day of it.
Then the darkness comes...father is sick, Mother must leave, and then, while gone, Beth becomes sick. Even though I knew it was coming, Beth getting sick was a blow. I would write more except that I apparently don't like to talk about it. Because of this, the return of Mr. March is incredibly bittersweet. I do delight in Jo's quiet fury regarding the possibility that Meg and Mr. Brooke may get together. There is something so honest, so genuine, about that emotion and how it plays out.
My great hope is that I'll be able to purposefully carve out more time for the novel. I do have quite an affection for it. It may even become one of those novels I dig out every year to remind myself there are encouraging and wondrous things in this world when it gets dark.
Of course October is the month that I read the Ray Bradbury novel Something Wicked This Way Comes to my daughter. If you are looking for a good book for the prelude to Halloween it is very much worth your time, as is all Bradbury content.
Pax,
W
Sunday, August 16, 2015
Another World, Another Time ("Little Women" Ch. 1-10)
I feel like I've got a "bajillion" (my daughter assures me that it is a standard unit of measurement) things to say about Little Women and yet I have no idea where to start. I suppose I could start with the easiest revelation, which is that I'm pretty much in love with this book.
It was no surprise to me when I learned that Little Women is drawn from the experiences of the author's own life. Each of the characters is completely believable and almost bowls you over with their authenticity. It's been a common theme here on the 100BYSRBYD blog that these books stand the test of time because you actually know someone who isn't just kinda like Jo but is Jo.
Much like with To Kill a Mockingbird, this novel taps into the "Main Street USA" feels in my brain. It makes me nostalgic for a time that I never was a part of. Granted it takes place during a terrible time in our history, the Civil War, but it feels like it was a much simpler time. Of course that's a trick of distance in time. Each decade had its own complications and it's own longing for a simpler time. Still I can't help but feel that I'd give up my cell phone and Twitter/Facebook accounts for floor scrubbing and field work and think it a fair trade.
You can't read Little Women and not have a favorite "little woman". The book naturally skews one towards Jo, but there is a case to be made for Meg or Beth. Amy...well, let me tell you about Amy.
As I mentioned in the WIKA, I barely remember the movie I once watched long ago. Throughout the book so far I've been getting flashbacks to the movie. Winona Ryder was Jo, Claire Danes was Beth, I don't remember who played Meg, and Kirsten Dunst played Amy. I have always wondered why I have such a loathing for every character Kirsten Dunst has played. I mean, she was tolerable as Mary Jane in Spiderman, but other than that every time I see here in a movie I've had this low level hostility towards any character she plays. It genuinely borders on that questionable "want to punch them in the throat" level deep in my gut. I'll never forget watching Mona Lisa Smile and realizing that every time her character was on screen I had to leave the room. It was such a strange response that I spent a lot of time trying to understand. I mean, yes, her character in that movie was written to irritate the viewer with here...well, there's no easy way to say it...outright bitchiness. So, overall I couldn't understand my reaction...until I started having the flashbacks to the movie based on Little Women.
I hated Amy in the movie so much that the hatred transferred over onto the very actress who played her. I'm getting ahead of myself here, but Amy, as with Blanche from Jane Eyre, is everything repulsive to me that a woman can be. Cruel, conniving, poisonous, cold, soul shredding, selfish, pompous, and then tries to turn it all around with a little angelic smile and a sorry. Just thinking about how she burns Jo's book as recompense for Jo and Meg going to a party with Laurie that Amy wasn't even invited to makes my blood pressure skyrocket.
Now before people claim that I am clearly sexist because I attribute the above adjectives to women let me say (by way of a disclaimer that I shouldn't even have to make) that I understand men can be cruel, conniving, poisonous, etc. I will defend myself in saying that women do it so much differently than men. There are those women who have chosen the above as a normal way of living life and interacting with humans and they scare the crap out of me. I avoid them the way I avoid toxic nuclear waste...I avoid them by going miles around them.
So, for now enough about Amy. I have my heart condition to think of and until she commits another "sin" in the book I'll table my loathing for her to write of better things here.
I will get to the quotes and thing that struck me the most in a bit, however I can't continue without pontificating on the single greatest aspect of this first quarter of the book. I'm not exactly sure how to put it in the most "entertaining" way possibles. As a result I'll just jump right in.
Virtue. I know, that's almost a dirty word in today's culture, but in this novel it is ever present. I'm not even talking about the points where it extols virtues, the very gift of a copy of Pilgrim's Progress is emphasis enough to be sure, I'm talking about how virtue is an active part of each person's life. Most shocking to me, in a good way, is the manner in which each character is aware of their faults and failings to live up to an ideal (aside from Amy...blergh..) and is actively working to remedy their lack. Jo knows that her fuse is short and is prone to flying into a rage. Meg is fully aware that she craves finer things that amount to little in this world and only serve to enhance her prideful streak. Even their mother looks around for lessons to apply to her own virtues.
It's at this point I wonder why this book is solidly in the top 100BYSRBD given that it's very substance is antithetical to our current society. The entire American propensity towards self indulgence can hardly abide this. If someone has a propensity towards anger, gluttony, greed, sloth, envy, pride, lust, etc. what do we say of them? Or, rather, what do they say of themselves? "It's just how I am. Accept it. I'll never change." We didn't always believe so and this novel is evidence of that fact. We have a near fatalist view of virtues and vices. You have what you have and you'll never get any better. We medicate ourselves into numbness (self or prescription) rather than go through the hard work of doing a objective self-assessment let alone striving through the hard slog of bettering ourselves. And why should we be surprised, if indeed we are at all? A relativistic society is not now and could never be a virtuous society. Where once we followed "Know Thyself" with "Better Thyself" we now blithely mutter "Yeah, well that's fine for you but not for me". When oneself is the measure of virtue then it's no wonder things are falling apart at the seems and reason is a bizarre way of looking at the world. Facts become variables and feelings become laws.
Already this book has changed me in that regard and changed my parenting style. If I don't encourage self analysis in my children, model it for them, or establish the virtues as goal posts then how dare I be surprised or even disappointed when they eventually grow up and miss the mark? While people are content with their children getting participation trophies, receiving scouting badges they didn't earn, and sliding by in society I find myself rejecting that thinking more and more for my children. My daughter was in Girl Scouts for about three months before the Summer break. To my shock she was given a number of badges that the other girls had earned so she wouldn't feel left out. For the sake of politeness I allowed it, but am wondering now if I should have made a bit of a stand. My daughter and I have since had a talk about how different it is when you actually earn something yourself. She and I are in agreement now that no one is to give her a badge or an award she didn't earn with the hard work of meeting every requirement. We throw away standards at our own peril. If other parents don't understand, I'm fine with that. All of the books on the list so far have taught me one thing above all else. "In a world of insanity, stand for sanity."
Now that I've gotten all that out into the open (for good or ill) let us move on to my favorite bits and bobs, quotes and such.
In reference to Pilgrim's Progress it is stated of Jo that "She knew it very well, for it was that beautiful story of the best life ever lived, and Jo felt that it was a true guidebook for any pilgrim going the long journey". The Bunyan novel has gotten diminished as of late in the eyes of many Christians. I'm not sure that we as a group afford it the honor that it is actually do. Allegory seems the province of nursery rhymes to our "modern" sensibilities. It's not on the 100 list, but I'm pretty sure I'll need to read it soon.
I love Beth to pieces. She is such a pure and gentle soul. Her affection and care of cast off dolls is such a delight to me. She's the kind of person you want to be around if for no other reason than to stand between her and the wide world that is lying in wait to abuse and destroy her gentleness and innocence. If Jane Eyre has taught me anything it is that in literature that's a signal that she is going to die before the book is done. Unfortunately there's a big blank in my memory of the film in this regard so...here's hoping I'm wrong.
"There are many Beths in the world, shy and quiet, sitting in corners till needed, and living for others so cheerfully that no one sees the sacrifices till the little cricket on the hearth stops chirping and the sweet, sunshiny presence vanishes, leaving silence and shadow behind."
These types of characters make me feel ashamed; ashamed of my cynicism, skepticism and suspicious nature. I've met a good many of them and they seem so alien to this world, to be honest.
I LOVE the elder Mr. Laurence. The way he takes to little Beth and his reaction to her reaction to being given a piano is simply priceless. In my movie of this book he would be played by Sir John Hurt. A perfect match if ever there was one. Mrs. March would be played by Jennifer Ehle of Possession fame.
"Watch and pray, dear, never get tired of trying and never think it impossible to conquer a fault." See previous diatribe on this point. I could repeat it all over again here, but I'll spare you.
Mrs. March proves her quality again and again throughout the book. Particularly in the section after Meg "'fess"es after her trip to "Vanity Fair". I could write out the two pages of text where she reveals her "plans" for her daughters...but I won't It's well worth the read and shames my heart (in an ultimately constructive way) as a parent. It can be distilled in the following quotes.
"I want my daughters to be beautiful, accomplished, and good; to be admired, loved, and respected..."
"I'd rather see you poor men's wives, if you were happy, beloved, contented, than queens on thrones without self-respect and peace."
"...better happy old maids than unhappy wives, or unmaidenly girls, running about to find husbands...
Next we'll have a goodly "Vocab" post. I'm very glad to be back to finding words that I don't know the meaning of.
Pax,
W
It was no surprise to me when I learned that Little Women is drawn from the experiences of the author's own life. Each of the characters is completely believable and almost bowls you over with their authenticity. It's been a common theme here on the 100BYSRBYD blog that these books stand the test of time because you actually know someone who isn't just kinda like Jo but is Jo.
Much like with To Kill a Mockingbird, this novel taps into the "Main Street USA" feels in my brain. It makes me nostalgic for a time that I never was a part of. Granted it takes place during a terrible time in our history, the Civil War, but it feels like it was a much simpler time. Of course that's a trick of distance in time. Each decade had its own complications and it's own longing for a simpler time. Still I can't help but feel that I'd give up my cell phone and Twitter/Facebook accounts for floor scrubbing and field work and think it a fair trade.
You can't read Little Women and not have a favorite "little woman". The book naturally skews one towards Jo, but there is a case to be made for Meg or Beth. Amy...well, let me tell you about Amy.
As I mentioned in the WIKA, I barely remember the movie I once watched long ago. Throughout the book so far I've been getting flashbacks to the movie. Winona Ryder was Jo, Claire Danes was Beth, I don't remember who played Meg, and Kirsten Dunst played Amy. I have always wondered why I have such a loathing for every character Kirsten Dunst has played. I mean, she was tolerable as Mary Jane in Spiderman, but other than that every time I see here in a movie I've had this low level hostility towards any character she plays. It genuinely borders on that questionable "want to punch them in the throat" level deep in my gut. I'll never forget watching Mona Lisa Smile and realizing that every time her character was on screen I had to leave the room. It was such a strange response that I spent a lot of time trying to understand. I mean, yes, her character in that movie was written to irritate the viewer with here...well, there's no easy way to say it...outright bitchiness. So, overall I couldn't understand my reaction...until I started having the flashbacks to the movie based on Little Women.
I hated Amy in the movie so much that the hatred transferred over onto the very actress who played her. I'm getting ahead of myself here, but Amy, as with Blanche from Jane Eyre, is everything repulsive to me that a woman can be. Cruel, conniving, poisonous, cold, soul shredding, selfish, pompous, and then tries to turn it all around with a little angelic smile and a sorry. Just thinking about how she burns Jo's book as recompense for Jo and Meg going to a party with Laurie that Amy wasn't even invited to makes my blood pressure skyrocket.
Now before people claim that I am clearly sexist because I attribute the above adjectives to women let me say (by way of a disclaimer that I shouldn't even have to make) that I understand men can be cruel, conniving, poisonous, etc. I will defend myself in saying that women do it so much differently than men. There are those women who have chosen the above as a normal way of living life and interacting with humans and they scare the crap out of me. I avoid them the way I avoid toxic nuclear waste...I avoid them by going miles around them.
So, for now enough about Amy. I have my heart condition to think of and until she commits another "sin" in the book I'll table my loathing for her to write of better things here.
I will get to the quotes and thing that struck me the most in a bit, however I can't continue without pontificating on the single greatest aspect of this first quarter of the book. I'm not exactly sure how to put it in the most "entertaining" way possibles. As a result I'll just jump right in.
Virtue. I know, that's almost a dirty word in today's culture, but in this novel it is ever present. I'm not even talking about the points where it extols virtues, the very gift of a copy of Pilgrim's Progress is emphasis enough to be sure, I'm talking about how virtue is an active part of each person's life. Most shocking to me, in a good way, is the manner in which each character is aware of their faults and failings to live up to an ideal (aside from Amy...blergh..) and is actively working to remedy their lack. Jo knows that her fuse is short and is prone to flying into a rage. Meg is fully aware that she craves finer things that amount to little in this world and only serve to enhance her prideful streak. Even their mother looks around for lessons to apply to her own virtues.
It's at this point I wonder why this book is solidly in the top 100BYSRBD given that it's very substance is antithetical to our current society. The entire American propensity towards self indulgence can hardly abide this. If someone has a propensity towards anger, gluttony, greed, sloth, envy, pride, lust, etc. what do we say of them? Or, rather, what do they say of themselves? "It's just how I am. Accept it. I'll never change." We didn't always believe so and this novel is evidence of that fact. We have a near fatalist view of virtues and vices. You have what you have and you'll never get any better. We medicate ourselves into numbness (self or prescription) rather than go through the hard work of doing a objective self-assessment let alone striving through the hard slog of bettering ourselves. And why should we be surprised, if indeed we are at all? A relativistic society is not now and could never be a virtuous society. Where once we followed "Know Thyself" with "Better Thyself" we now blithely mutter "Yeah, well that's fine for you but not for me". When oneself is the measure of virtue then it's no wonder things are falling apart at the seems and reason is a bizarre way of looking at the world. Facts become variables and feelings become laws.
Already this book has changed me in that regard and changed my parenting style. If I don't encourage self analysis in my children, model it for them, or establish the virtues as goal posts then how dare I be surprised or even disappointed when they eventually grow up and miss the mark? While people are content with their children getting participation trophies, receiving scouting badges they didn't earn, and sliding by in society I find myself rejecting that thinking more and more for my children. My daughter was in Girl Scouts for about three months before the Summer break. To my shock she was given a number of badges that the other girls had earned so she wouldn't feel left out. For the sake of politeness I allowed it, but am wondering now if I should have made a bit of a stand. My daughter and I have since had a talk about how different it is when you actually earn something yourself. She and I are in agreement now that no one is to give her a badge or an award she didn't earn with the hard work of meeting every requirement. We throw away standards at our own peril. If other parents don't understand, I'm fine with that. All of the books on the list so far have taught me one thing above all else. "In a world of insanity, stand for sanity."
Now that I've gotten all that out into the open (for good or ill) let us move on to my favorite bits and bobs, quotes and such.
In reference to Pilgrim's Progress it is stated of Jo that "She knew it very well, for it was that beautiful story of the best life ever lived, and Jo felt that it was a true guidebook for any pilgrim going the long journey". The Bunyan novel has gotten diminished as of late in the eyes of many Christians. I'm not sure that we as a group afford it the honor that it is actually do. Allegory seems the province of nursery rhymes to our "modern" sensibilities. It's not on the 100 list, but I'm pretty sure I'll need to read it soon.
I love Beth to pieces. She is such a pure and gentle soul. Her affection and care of cast off dolls is such a delight to me. She's the kind of person you want to be around if for no other reason than to stand between her and the wide world that is lying in wait to abuse and destroy her gentleness and innocence. If Jane Eyre has taught me anything it is that in literature that's a signal that she is going to die before the book is done. Unfortunately there's a big blank in my memory of the film in this regard so...here's hoping I'm wrong.
"There are many Beths in the world, shy and quiet, sitting in corners till needed, and living for others so cheerfully that no one sees the sacrifices till the little cricket on the hearth stops chirping and the sweet, sunshiny presence vanishes, leaving silence and shadow behind."
These types of characters make me feel ashamed; ashamed of my cynicism, skepticism and suspicious nature. I've met a good many of them and they seem so alien to this world, to be honest.
I LOVE the elder Mr. Laurence. The way he takes to little Beth and his reaction to her reaction to being given a piano is simply priceless. In my movie of this book he would be played by Sir John Hurt. A perfect match if ever there was one. Mrs. March would be played by Jennifer Ehle of Possession fame.
"Watch and pray, dear, never get tired of trying and never think it impossible to conquer a fault." See previous diatribe on this point. I could repeat it all over again here, but I'll spare you.
Mrs. March proves her quality again and again throughout the book. Particularly in the section after Meg "'fess"es after her trip to "Vanity Fair". I could write out the two pages of text where she reveals her "plans" for her daughters...but I won't It's well worth the read and shames my heart (in an ultimately constructive way) as a parent. It can be distilled in the following quotes.
"I want my daughters to be beautiful, accomplished, and good; to be admired, loved, and respected..."
"I'd rather see you poor men's wives, if you were happy, beloved, contented, than queens on thrones without self-respect and peace."
"...better happy old maids than unhappy wives, or unmaidenly girls, running about to find husbands...
Next we'll have a goodly "Vocab" post. I'm very glad to be back to finding words that I don't know the meaning of.
Pax,
W
Monday, July 20, 2015
WIKA "Little Women"
What I know about Little Women by Louisa May Alcott:
Well, firstly I know that it is not about a group of women who suffer from dwarfism. That came as a bit of a disappointment when I was nine and first tried to read that classic.
My wife surprised me a bit today by purchasing me the first hardback of this series of 100 Books You Should Read Before You Die. It's quite nice actually, and purchased from The Hermitage, a shop here in Denver that sells only hardbacks, rare, and first editions, which is the only place I'd ever buy books if it were possible and my budget allowed. That place is simply put one of the greatest treasures I have found second only, perhaps...and mostly due to nostalgia, to Parnasus in my hometown. Miss Lilian, the owner, believed in me as a writer before I ever was even sure I wanted to be. She noticed me reading Keats one day and marveled (I was 17 at the time). But I digress...
I asked my beloved if she mentioned to the shop owner about my little project. She replied that she did and he called it a "Noble goal." Yeah, I'm not sure how to take that either.
Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott. This is yet another of those books that was somewhat forced upon me as a child. I didn't get it at the time and barely remembered. Why read a book about girls and love and parties when I could read Treasure Island or Gulliver's Travels?
I know that I half watched the movie version with Christian Bale as the love interest...who if I remember correctly everyone thinks he loves the one girl and really wants another or...something. There was a bit of a love polygon going on in there...perhaps a rhombus. I only watched the film because I had made a girl that I liked watch Gerard Depardieu's Cyrano Debergerac, in French with little yellow subtitles, and so she responded that I then had to watch Little Women. I still maintain that Cyrano is in the 10 best foreign films of all time and the single most romantic film I've ever seen. She disagreed and soon after we parted ways. Not because of her choice in romantic cinematography, of course. It had more to do with the fact that I was directionless in life and her parents had a talk with her. Fair point now that I'm a parent myself, but back then it stung a bit.
I'm looking forward to Little Women with a bit of optimism having been delightfully surprised by Pride and Prejudice.
Pax,
W
Well, firstly I know that it is not about a group of women who suffer from dwarfism. That came as a bit of a disappointment when I was nine and first tried to read that classic.
My wife surprised me a bit today by purchasing me the first hardback of this series of 100 Books You Should Read Before You Die. It's quite nice actually, and purchased from The Hermitage, a shop here in Denver that sells only hardbacks, rare, and first editions, which is the only place I'd ever buy books if it were possible and my budget allowed. That place is simply put one of the greatest treasures I have found second only, perhaps...and mostly due to nostalgia, to Parnasus in my hometown. Miss Lilian, the owner, believed in me as a writer before I ever was even sure I wanted to be. She noticed me reading Keats one day and marveled (I was 17 at the time). But I digress...
I asked my beloved if she mentioned to the shop owner about my little project. She replied that she did and he called it a "Noble goal." Yeah, I'm not sure how to take that either.
Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott. This is yet another of those books that was somewhat forced upon me as a child. I didn't get it at the time and barely remembered. Why read a book about girls and love and parties when I could read Treasure Island or Gulliver's Travels?
I know that I half watched the movie version with Christian Bale as the love interest...who if I remember correctly everyone thinks he loves the one girl and really wants another or...something. There was a bit of a love polygon going on in there...perhaps a rhombus. I only watched the film because I had made a girl that I liked watch Gerard Depardieu's Cyrano Debergerac, in French with little yellow subtitles, and so she responded that I then had to watch Little Women. I still maintain that Cyrano is in the 10 best foreign films of all time and the single most romantic film I've ever seen. She disagreed and soon after we parted ways. Not because of her choice in romantic cinematography, of course. It had more to do with the fact that I was directionless in life and her parents had a talk with her. Fair point now that I'm a parent myself, but back then it stung a bit.
I'm looking forward to Little Women with a bit of optimism having been delightfully surprised by Pride and Prejudice.
Pax,
W
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Here Comes the Chopper to Chop Off Your Head (1984 Pt. 2 Ch. 11 - End)
It really shouldn't be surprising to me as much as it is, but not since Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged has a book affected me as much as 1984. It has shone a light, been the comforting "You're not alone" message in a bottle that has washed up on my shore, has shown me pitfalls to avoid and defenses to set within my mind and personal philosophies. I do feel like a better person for having read it or, at least, a better prepared member of an intelligent species anyway.
There are plenty of political parties, institutions both religious and secular, even work environments where people simply want to grasp power for power's sake, and that is by far the most insidious motivation. They will lie, cheat, steal, brainwash, and then look at you like you are the crazy one for finding fault in them. There are far more people who ask us regularly to deny the truth of our senses. Our society currently is taken up in a swell of moral/philosophical/ethical/religious relativity. The facts, we are told, do no matter. "Madame, kindly do not confuse the issue with facts" used to be a joke line and now it's practically a protest march chant. We've been told by our superiors in Washington D.C. that we have to vote on a bill first and then we can find out what is in it...and nobody acts like that is madness. "There is nothing good or bad except that thinking make it so," was a line from Shakespeare and our generation turned it into "There is nothing right or wrong...". Gender is no longer considered a fact of birth. It's what you "feel" that is more important than facts, these days. The sea level hasn't risen to predicted levels, but we're still right on track for the environmental flambe...until we're headed for another Ice Age (as was recently decided by top scientists).
The scariest, darkest part of the entire novel was this last quarter. Winston is captured and psychologically dismantled piece by piece until he gave in at the end and found his heart full of nothing but love for Big Brother. "We shall squeeze you empty and then we shall fill you with ourselves..." was the quote that filled me full of fear. I've spent a good portion of my life looking at the world and desperately trying to find consistency. I'm attracted to consistency. You say what you believe and what you are going to do and then you do it and you'll have my vote fairly easily. I've felt crazier in this past six or so years than I ever have before and, like Winston, I've come to the conclusion that I'm not insane. The media tends to do just that, scoop you out and put themselves back in.
"Water will wet us and fire will burn," is practically a mantra between my wife and I these days. It comes from Rudyard Kipling's "The Gods of Copy Book Headings" which is a poem about what happens when we deny universal truths for too long. When we pretend to be masters over reality we eventually get our comeuppance. When we print trillions of dollars and give out sub prime loans eventually the piper must be paid. "...we often find it convenient to assume that the earth goes round the sun..." O'brien declares while torturing Winston into realigning his beliefs with the Party which include their fact that 2 + 2 = 5. We find it convenient...sometimes when we need it to 2 + 2 = 4...That mentality has always filled me with nothing but contempt for whoever has expressed it. It is the most selfish of phrases. I once admired a girl for being a pretty rational feminist. She seemed to walk the talk, which is always big in my book, and then she was talking about how she'd go to the bars, dress in something tight and revealing so that guys would buy her drinks. She boasted that she hasn't paid for a drink since her 21st birthday...and she immediately lost my respect. Why? Because she was not a person of principle. What we shout from the roof tops had better be how we live in the day to day or it's little better than a full on lie.
I've had this discussion so many times before where someone expresses a supposedly deeply held principle that doesn't carry over into other areas of their life. I'll say, "OK, so you believe and declare this, but what about over here where you violate that principle." I get the most dumbfounded looks where they say, "Uh, that's not what I'm talking about, dude." The most notorious example of this in my life has been with people who believe, and generally say in an airy fairy hippy manner, "All life is sacred and so precious, ya know?" This usually is said after explaining why they are against war or for veganism. I reply, "Ok. So are you for the death penalty" "Well, yeah, of course." "Abortion?" "I think that the supreme court has ruled quite clearly on Abortion, thank you. I don't understand why you're bringing those things up. I'm talking about how sacred life is." Doublethink is not a far off fantasy of dystopian science fiction. We've already trained ourselves to have principles and opinions that are limited to a specific issue in a specific portion of our brain and neither the twain shall meet.
It's not about having the courage of our convictions anymore...I'd be happy with just the consistency of our convictions.
Orwell cautions us to reject sensationalism, to reject those who would say that facts are subject to our whim, to embrace principal, and to know without a doubt that any Party is a fox in a henhouse...but it is so difficult. We have forever been slipping toward 1984 and we will be forever slipping until it actually arrives.
"If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a face - forever."
For the past few months this has been a haunting image. It's one of the most famous lines from the novel so I knew that it was coming, but it has never seemed more appropriate or more potent. Find a cause, give them someone to hate, whip them into an emotional frenzy, reject logic and they will press that boot into flesh every single time. The mob...no one on either side is immune. Our own parties are replete with this rhetoric. Republicans hate the poor and want to starve your grandmother while carpet bombing the third world. Democrats just want to bankrupt the country financially and morally...gay pride parades every day while they tear down the churches. They each make you demonize the other side and call one another out on the demonization. Why? Because it's an election year and you need to feel afraid or you won't vote and they won't win.
I know I've been rambling and all over the place...try talking to me about it and it will be 20 times more so. I have but one more point to cover and then I will place some of the most meaningful quotes from this chapter as a closing on this amazing, provocative, and most enduring of novels.
After Julia and Winston are released from torture and re-education they see each other again. It should be hopeful. Love should conquer all...but this isn't that kind of story. There is an intensity to the moment as they admit to each other that they had betrayed one another. Their love was broken by what they said and did under interrogation. For a moment Winston is determined to begin again. He walks with her side by side to the tube station, through the crowd. And then he stops. He lets her go. She disappears and they never see each other again. It is so fraught with things unspoken, deep wells of feeling dampened by the horrors of the society that they live in. I so want to see that moment done well on screen. In my head it is so intense, and it reaches so many because, as I've said about every novel so far, it is real life. We are all broken people in search of healing and society will lean on, put pressure on every hairline crack to make us bend to its will. It will destroy love with hate every time that it can. "The ends justify the means" it is often said and I defy that with every breath. "The means condemn the ends". It is such a basic thing that we forget because we want to, because it is easier to live without principle...and the Party and Big Brother are just waiting for us to compromise. The only way 1984 can come to pass is in a world where the good compromise, where those able to stand just beg it all to happen to someone else when the pain comes.
"...the aim of this (the torture/re-education) was simply to humiliate him and destroy his power of arguing and reasoning."
"...in the eyes of the Party there was no distinction between the thought and the deed."
"You believe that reality is something objective, external, existing in its own right. You also believe that the nature of reality is self-evident...Reality exists in the human mind, and nowhere else...only in the mind of the Party, which is collective and immortal. Whatever the Party holds to be truth is truth. It is impossible to see reality except by looking through the eyes of the Party."
"The Party is not interested in the overt act: the thought is all we care about. We do not merely destroy our enemies; we change them."
"The command of the old despotisms was 'Thou shalt not.' The command of the totalitarians was 'Thou shalt.' Our command is 'Thou art.'"
"The Party seeks power entirely for its own sake. We are not interested in the good of others; we are interested solely in power."
"We know that no one ever seizes power with the intention of relinquishing it. Power is not a means; it is an end. One does not establish a dictatorship in order to safeguard a revolution; one makes the revolution in order to establish a dictatorship." (This quote should make activists run scared...but it never will. We'd like to believe all humanity is good at its core...it is selfserving to its core and always has been.)
"How does one man assert his power over another...By making him suffer. Obedience is not enough. Unless he is suffering, how can you be sure that he is obeying your will and not his own? Power is in inflicting pain and humiliation. Power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing."
"The old civilizations claimed that they were founded on love and justice. Ours is founded upon hatred. In our world there will be no emotions except fear, rage, triumph, and self-abasement...all competing pleasures will be destroyed."
"It will be a world of terror as much as a world of triumph. The more the Party is powerful, the less it will be tolerant; the weaker the opposition the tighter the despotism...Always we shall have the heretic here at our mercy, screaming with pain, broken up, contemptible - and in the end utterly penitent, saved from himself, crawling to our feet of his own accord." (This is what scares me about the current thinking that to disagree is to hate, to dissent is to be a bigot. They don't just agree to disagree, many in this world destroy the lives of those who dare to disagree.)
Monday, July 13, 2015
Here Comes a Candle to Light You to Bed (1984 Pt. 2 Ch. 6-Ch. 10)
In which things get real...
It has been quite a while since my last post. I blame summer. The adventures have been great and plentiful to be sure, so...I regret nothing. 1984 has continued to burn in the back of my mind the whole month I've been away, however. We've seen the world shift in that time. Doublethink is in high gear in our country. Facts don't matter, emotions rule the day, we've even seen our own Hate week of sorts in the racial riots. Never mind what the court says, never mind what the evidence is, never mind what the people actually have voted for and want. Freedom is teetering on her perilous perch and 1984 has never seemed closer.
That is the magic and the power of 1984. It is rather like reading the book of Revelation of Saint John. It is the future, a possible future, a road map to destruction. You can see the signs and the mileposts all along the way ever getting closer, ever drawing nearer even if it is still a long way off.
1984 is our shadow. When we are turned towards the light and move for a substantially truly better world we can't see it, but it's there lurking. When we look over our shoulder we see it staring back at us like a fact of life connected to us by the feet. Our feet can take us further towards light or shadow and we're never far from either choice.
The majority of this section is history of the world and the policy of Big Brother revealed through a book that O'brien (don't quite trust that little bugger) gets to Winston and Julia after they become a part of the Underground. Winston reveals that he has spent most of his life thinking it was his fault his mother died. He says he always thought he murdered her, but a recent dream makes him rethink that. The couple has accepted that it is inevitable that they will be caught and that they might betray each other.
"I don't mean confessing. Confession is not betrayal...If they could make me stop loving you- that would be the real betrayal." Winston tells her. She responds, "It's the one thing they can't do. They can make you say anything -anything- but they can't make you believe it. They can't get inside you."
I'm the kind of guy who reads like Harry from the movie "When Harry Met Sally". I read the last page of the book before I even start. It's not for quite the same slightly morbid reasons as Harry, but I do it. Knowing the last page, the last line even gave that reassuring moment a real darkness. They CAN get inside you. They CAN make you believe it.
Orwell later says, "They could lay bare in the utmost detail everything that you had done or said or though; but the inner heart, whose workings were mysterious even to yourself, remained impregnable." As a writer I can recognize the wind up before the pitch. Writer's reassure you that the story can't possibly go wrong, possibly go bad, that it's going to end exactly how you want it to and there will be puppies, and unicorns, and flowers, and hopes and wishes all come true in Fictionland. Some writers deliver exactly that. My favorites, however, don't. There may be puppies but they're missing an ear. The unicorn is actually an obscure goat from the African sub continent. The flowers die and wilt eventually because you picked them. It's not as depressing as it sounds, but as a writer you have to inflate the expectations before the crashing reality.
So, according to the book they receive the world has devolved into three main superpowers (Eurasia, Eastasia, and Oceania) who are basically in constant war with each other. Because they've been on a war footing for so long that has become their life and their basis of economy. They are at a three way stalemate being each equal in power and each equal in destructive ability.
"...war means no more than a continuous shortage of consumption goods, and the occasional crash of a rocket bomb which may cause a few scores of deaths...there is no longer, in a material sense, anything to fight about..."
There is a section between each of the three mega nations that is constantly fought over and its inhabitants are basically life long slaves to one master or another depending on who won that week.
Scientific progress has come to a grinding halt because of Doublethink. If there is no empirical habit of thought, if knowledge is dictated by the government as both a thing and not a thing at the same time and can change on a dime then science cannot progress. This has dangerous tinges of "relativism" going on here. Science is based on facts and data (which could also be known as Truth) but we train our children, as a society, that they can have their own truth, that facts don't matter. It's about what you feel and think. Science can't progress in a world without truth. To me this is the true destruction of the world of this novel. A world without principles, consistency, truth, etc. is not a world I'd like to live in. It's no small wonder the characters feel lost and adrift mentally with nothing to hold on to. They can't even be sure that the date is accurate because even that is up to Big Brother's discretion. It could be July 13th or November 23rd and it would be equally true to the Party and the Proles.
So, why be constantly at war? The answer shouldn't surprise anyone, and yet it shocked me in its parallels to our own "forever war", aka the War on Terrorism. "...at the same time the consciousness of being at war, and therefore in danger makes the handing over of all power to a small caste seem the natural condition of survival." Politicians want, above all else, power and have proven they don't care about how much of the Constitution they have to shred to get it. "Never let a crisis go to waste" (a mantra of leftist politicians but is seemingly adhered to just as equally by rightists) has its roots here. There is always a power kickback in every "safety" measure they push in Congress. Whether it is gun control or a "Patriot Act" the goal is always more power to control the American people by pushing the fear button and taking advantage of the crisis. And oh how we beg for the chains in exchange for assurances that it will keep "even just one child safe", which if we ruminate rather than react we would admit the measures can assure no such thing at all ever.
In reference to the Party members Orwell reveals this: "Even the humblest Party member is expected to be competent, industrious, and even intelligent within narrow limits, but it is also necessary that he should be a credulous and ignorant fanatic whose prevailing moods are fear, hatred, adulation, and orgiastic triumph" (bold for emphasis is my own). Emotions are the enemy of logic. I am constantly suspicious of any appeals to emotion. Once I realize my emotions are being stirred up by a group or an individual I reflexively stop and step back. Why? Because people, especially politicians and religious leaders, only engage the emotions when they cannot make their case with logic and reason. Emotion is the easiest way to motivate people. Fascinatingly if you have two groups whipped up in an emotional fervor and set them against each other generally you'll find that the prevailing opinion is that the other side is just a bunch of easily led sheep. And they are right. Both of them. The right and the left are easily led sheep who will condemn the other's tactics WHILE employing them themselves.
A few years ago Paula Dean was shredded and destroyed for life by leftists for admitting that in the 70's (yes...40 years ago) she used a racial slur. George Takei used a racial slur weeks ago and the leftists say, "Oh, come on. I'm sure he didn't mean it like that." Rightists praised George W. Bush's Patriot Act but when it came time for it to be renewed under a Democrat president then it was the work of a tyrant. Each wants to accuse the other of partisanship and each side is correct. They are each side as partisan as they can be.
"...competent, industrious, and even intelligent within narrow limits, but it is also necessary that he should be a credulous and ignorant fanatic whose prevailing moods are fear, hatred, adulation, and orgiastic triumph."
In the words of Egon from Ghostbusters "Yes...have some."
(That might be a little too "inside baseball" so I apologize in advance, but I'm not changing it.)
The chapter on "IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH" is predominantly occupied with class warfare. For me this was extremely instructive. Growing up in the United States and listening to the nightly news I couldn't help but be inundated with facts about the "Middle Class" which naturally leads to the knowledge that there is an "Upper Class" and a "Lower Class" of citizen. These classes are universal in every culture and nation. There are nations with more layers of classes (I'm glancing at India in particular here) but none with less. Nations can claim to have less (oh, hey. Look there's China) but the fact remains that there are at least three.
Now, Orwell posits, and rightly so I believe, that these three classes are the natural human state and each irreconcilable.
"The aim of the High is to remain where they are." Can you blame them? If I was in the Upper class I'd want to stay there as well.
"The aim of the Middle is to change places with the High." Naturally.
"The aim of the Low, when they have an aim- for it is an abiding characteristic of the Low that they are too much crushed by drudgery to be more than intermittently conscious of anything outside their daily lives - is to abolish all distinctions and create a society in which all men shall be equal." Obkb. These things all follow quite naturally. We see all three of these time and time again.
Now, the High stay in power continually until/unless they lose their faith in themselves. This often comes in the form of guilt via "social consciousness" etc. At this point they falter and the Middle sees the opportunity to strike and move themselves up the ladder. The Middle, being the Middle, understands that their position isn't going to win much sympathy. I mean, sure they aren't rich and "rollin' in the Benjamins", but they aren't poor and suffering. On their own the Middle can do little. Now, I grant you the U. S. is completely different. One can leap from one rung to the other in a generation or less, but let's table that for the sake of discussion.
The Middle turns to the Low and uses phrases like "equality", "justices", "brotherhood" and the like to engage the Low to come alongside with them. They give the Middle a boost to get into the High and then the Middle abandons them.
"From the point of view of the Low, no historic change has ever meant much more than a change in the name of their masters." To quote Kurt Vonnegut, "And so it goes."
"In the past the Middle had made revolutions under the banner of equality, and then had established a fresh tyranny as soon as the old one was overthrown."
So, how did Big Brother "achieve" "equality"? It was by conscious strategy to halt the pendulum; to control thought, to control actions. Surveillance, re-education, changing the very model of human behavior not so that there would be genuine equality but rather so that the flip flop could not occur and they could force everyone to believe that equality had been achieved. Anyone who disrupts the placid waters (stagnant waters are just as placid) of the equality are removed from the society.
There is so much that I haven't brought up from Crimestop and the intricacies of Doublethink that shed a lot of light of politics and life and so much. 1984 is really, when it comes down to it, less of a prophecy, less of a warning necessarily than a handbook for preserving your own sanity in a world gone mad. I probably should leave this sort of thing for the end, but it gives comfort to those who truly believe in facts and truth. It is the best kind of writing...the kind that is a message in a bottle that washes upon your shore and says, "You're not alone."
Sadly, just as Winston and Julia start to feel this the owner of the knick knack shop is revealed to be Thought Police and captures them.
Pax,
W
It has been quite a while since my last post. I blame summer. The adventures have been great and plentiful to be sure, so...I regret nothing. 1984 has continued to burn in the back of my mind the whole month I've been away, however. We've seen the world shift in that time. Doublethink is in high gear in our country. Facts don't matter, emotions rule the day, we've even seen our own Hate week of sorts in the racial riots. Never mind what the court says, never mind what the evidence is, never mind what the people actually have voted for and want. Freedom is teetering on her perilous perch and 1984 has never seemed closer.
That is the magic and the power of 1984. It is rather like reading the book of Revelation of Saint John. It is the future, a possible future, a road map to destruction. You can see the signs and the mileposts all along the way ever getting closer, ever drawing nearer even if it is still a long way off.
1984 is our shadow. When we are turned towards the light and move for a substantially truly better world we can't see it, but it's there lurking. When we look over our shoulder we see it staring back at us like a fact of life connected to us by the feet. Our feet can take us further towards light or shadow and we're never far from either choice.
The majority of this section is history of the world and the policy of Big Brother revealed through a book that O'brien (don't quite trust that little bugger) gets to Winston and Julia after they become a part of the Underground. Winston reveals that he has spent most of his life thinking it was his fault his mother died. He says he always thought he murdered her, but a recent dream makes him rethink that. The couple has accepted that it is inevitable that they will be caught and that they might betray each other.
"I don't mean confessing. Confession is not betrayal...If they could make me stop loving you- that would be the real betrayal." Winston tells her. She responds, "It's the one thing they can't do. They can make you say anything -anything- but they can't make you believe it. They can't get inside you."
I'm the kind of guy who reads like Harry from the movie "When Harry Met Sally". I read the last page of the book before I even start. It's not for quite the same slightly morbid reasons as Harry, but I do it. Knowing the last page, the last line even gave that reassuring moment a real darkness. They CAN get inside you. They CAN make you believe it.
Orwell later says, "They could lay bare in the utmost detail everything that you had done or said or though; but the inner heart, whose workings were mysterious even to yourself, remained impregnable." As a writer I can recognize the wind up before the pitch. Writer's reassure you that the story can't possibly go wrong, possibly go bad, that it's going to end exactly how you want it to and there will be puppies, and unicorns, and flowers, and hopes and wishes all come true in Fictionland. Some writers deliver exactly that. My favorites, however, don't. There may be puppies but they're missing an ear. The unicorn is actually an obscure goat from the African sub continent. The flowers die and wilt eventually because you picked them. It's not as depressing as it sounds, but as a writer you have to inflate the expectations before the crashing reality.
So, according to the book they receive the world has devolved into three main superpowers (Eurasia, Eastasia, and Oceania) who are basically in constant war with each other. Because they've been on a war footing for so long that has become their life and their basis of economy. They are at a three way stalemate being each equal in power and each equal in destructive ability.
"...war means no more than a continuous shortage of consumption goods, and the occasional crash of a rocket bomb which may cause a few scores of deaths...there is no longer, in a material sense, anything to fight about..."
There is a section between each of the three mega nations that is constantly fought over and its inhabitants are basically life long slaves to one master or another depending on who won that week.
Scientific progress has come to a grinding halt because of Doublethink. If there is no empirical habit of thought, if knowledge is dictated by the government as both a thing and not a thing at the same time and can change on a dime then science cannot progress. This has dangerous tinges of "relativism" going on here. Science is based on facts and data (which could also be known as Truth) but we train our children, as a society, that they can have their own truth, that facts don't matter. It's about what you feel and think. Science can't progress in a world without truth. To me this is the true destruction of the world of this novel. A world without principles, consistency, truth, etc. is not a world I'd like to live in. It's no small wonder the characters feel lost and adrift mentally with nothing to hold on to. They can't even be sure that the date is accurate because even that is up to Big Brother's discretion. It could be July 13th or November 23rd and it would be equally true to the Party and the Proles.
So, why be constantly at war? The answer shouldn't surprise anyone, and yet it shocked me in its parallels to our own "forever war", aka the War on Terrorism. "...at the same time the consciousness of being at war, and therefore in danger makes the handing over of all power to a small caste seem the natural condition of survival." Politicians want, above all else, power and have proven they don't care about how much of the Constitution they have to shred to get it. "Never let a crisis go to waste" (a mantra of leftist politicians but is seemingly adhered to just as equally by rightists) has its roots here. There is always a power kickback in every "safety" measure they push in Congress. Whether it is gun control or a "Patriot Act" the goal is always more power to control the American people by pushing the fear button and taking advantage of the crisis. And oh how we beg for the chains in exchange for assurances that it will keep "even just one child safe", which if we ruminate rather than react we would admit the measures can assure no such thing at all ever.
In reference to the Party members Orwell reveals this: "Even the humblest Party member is expected to be competent, industrious, and even intelligent within narrow limits, but it is also necessary that he should be a credulous and ignorant fanatic whose prevailing moods are fear, hatred, adulation, and orgiastic triumph" (bold for emphasis is my own). Emotions are the enemy of logic. I am constantly suspicious of any appeals to emotion. Once I realize my emotions are being stirred up by a group or an individual I reflexively stop and step back. Why? Because people, especially politicians and religious leaders, only engage the emotions when they cannot make their case with logic and reason. Emotion is the easiest way to motivate people. Fascinatingly if you have two groups whipped up in an emotional fervor and set them against each other generally you'll find that the prevailing opinion is that the other side is just a bunch of easily led sheep. And they are right. Both of them. The right and the left are easily led sheep who will condemn the other's tactics WHILE employing them themselves.
A few years ago Paula Dean was shredded and destroyed for life by leftists for admitting that in the 70's (yes...40 years ago) she used a racial slur. George Takei used a racial slur weeks ago and the leftists say, "Oh, come on. I'm sure he didn't mean it like that." Rightists praised George W. Bush's Patriot Act but when it came time for it to be renewed under a Democrat president then it was the work of a tyrant. Each wants to accuse the other of partisanship and each side is correct. They are each side as partisan as they can be.
"...competent, industrious, and even intelligent within narrow limits, but it is also necessary that he should be a credulous and ignorant fanatic whose prevailing moods are fear, hatred, adulation, and orgiastic triumph."
In the words of Egon from Ghostbusters "Yes...have some."
(That might be a little too "inside baseball" so I apologize in advance, but I'm not changing it.)
The chapter on "IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH" is predominantly occupied with class warfare. For me this was extremely instructive. Growing up in the United States and listening to the nightly news I couldn't help but be inundated with facts about the "Middle Class" which naturally leads to the knowledge that there is an "Upper Class" and a "Lower Class" of citizen. These classes are universal in every culture and nation. There are nations with more layers of classes (I'm glancing at India in particular here) but none with less. Nations can claim to have less (oh, hey. Look there's China) but the fact remains that there are at least three.
Now, Orwell posits, and rightly so I believe, that these three classes are the natural human state and each irreconcilable.
"The aim of the High is to remain where they are." Can you blame them? If I was in the Upper class I'd want to stay there as well.
"The aim of the Middle is to change places with the High." Naturally.
"The aim of the Low, when they have an aim- for it is an abiding characteristic of the Low that they are too much crushed by drudgery to be more than intermittently conscious of anything outside their daily lives - is to abolish all distinctions and create a society in which all men shall be equal." Obkb. These things all follow quite naturally. We see all three of these time and time again.
Now, the High stay in power continually until/unless they lose their faith in themselves. This often comes in the form of guilt via "social consciousness" etc. At this point they falter and the Middle sees the opportunity to strike and move themselves up the ladder. The Middle, being the Middle, understands that their position isn't going to win much sympathy. I mean, sure they aren't rich and "rollin' in the Benjamins", but they aren't poor and suffering. On their own the Middle can do little. Now, I grant you the U. S. is completely different. One can leap from one rung to the other in a generation or less, but let's table that for the sake of discussion.
The Middle turns to the Low and uses phrases like "equality", "justices", "brotherhood" and the like to engage the Low to come alongside with them. They give the Middle a boost to get into the High and then the Middle abandons them.
"From the point of view of the Low, no historic change has ever meant much more than a change in the name of their masters." To quote Kurt Vonnegut, "And so it goes."
"In the past the Middle had made revolutions under the banner of equality, and then had established a fresh tyranny as soon as the old one was overthrown."
So, how did Big Brother "achieve" "equality"? It was by conscious strategy to halt the pendulum; to control thought, to control actions. Surveillance, re-education, changing the very model of human behavior not so that there would be genuine equality but rather so that the flip flop could not occur and they could force everyone to believe that equality had been achieved. Anyone who disrupts the placid waters (stagnant waters are just as placid) of the equality are removed from the society.
There is so much that I haven't brought up from Crimestop and the intricacies of Doublethink that shed a lot of light of politics and life and so much. 1984 is really, when it comes down to it, less of a prophecy, less of a warning necessarily than a handbook for preserving your own sanity in a world gone mad. I probably should leave this sort of thing for the end, but it gives comfort to those who truly believe in facts and truth. It is the best kind of writing...the kind that is a message in a bottle that washes upon your shore and says, "You're not alone."
Sadly, just as Winston and Julia start to feel this the owner of the knick knack shop is revealed to be Thought Police and captures them.
Pax,
W
Monday, June 8, 2015
Love in the Time of Darkness (1984 Pt 1 Ch 8- Pt 2 Ch 5)
(In which Winston finds love...or at least sex...or at worst sex and someone who makes him feel differently than he normally does)
This next section of the novel begins with more detail in regard to the society's "values", as they may be loosely termed.
Leftover from previous chapters: I still find the differences between the two castes to be fascinating. The Party is kept under strict rules at all times. The Proles are given few, if any, rules as long as they maintain their patriotism. The Party is given exclusive rights to the possession and consumption of alcohol which is manufactured by Big Brother. The Proles are given exclusive rights to possession and consumption of pornography which is manufactured by big brother. I suppose that both are made to keep each caste compliant. That alcohol "cheers" the members of the Party so they don't feel as closed in and oppressed, I suppose. The pornography, I guess, keeps the Proles titillated and encourages breeding which creates more workers.
Chapter eight begins with the information that the Party is pretty much required to be engaging in communal activities when not working, eating or sleeping. "Enforced" community participation is ultimately another way to figure out who is loyal and who is not.
"...to do anything that suggested a taste for solitude, even to go for a walk by yourself, was always slightly dangerous. There was a word for it in Newspeak: ownlife, it was called, meaning individualism and eccentricity."
Ownlife would generally bring out the Thought Police after you...as would walking home by a different route.
Another way the Proles were pacified was by the institution of "The Lottery", which is rather identical to our own lottery systems. In the world of Big Brother the prizes were imaginary, but kept the potentially unruly Proles happy by thinking of how one day they'd be living the good life. Sounds very familiar. Not that I'm saying the Lotteries in our world are imaginary, but I do wonder if they serve a very similar purpose among the lower class. When I was at my poorest, for all intents and purposes homeless, a lot of people I knew spend about as much money on scratch tickets and Powerball as they did on food. One guy who worked at the same pizza place that I washed dishes for would take home a whole pizza every night so that he wouldn't have to buy food and thereby "increase" his chances of winning. Yeah.
Winston goes among the Proles, not expressly forbidden because, you know, there are no laws to break only imprisonment or execution to fear, in order to possibly find an old timer who might remember the days before the glorious revolution. Every man avoids his direct questioning. Winston then moves on and finds himself in front of the very shop where he purchased the journal. He goes in cautiously, looks around, and finds a glass paperweight with a piece of coral in it. It fascinates him because of its absolute uselessness. He then discovers a second floor with a bed and a picture of a seashore.
Upon departing the store he notices a girl with a red sash about her waist pass him. He'd seen her before, shouting the loudest at the 2 minute Hate. Worried he would be found out, that she might have been following him as a spy, he considers strangling her or bashing her head in with a rock.
Fortunately he did neither of these things (Well, I say "fortunately" not knowing how it will end). Days later she trips right in front of him. When he reaches down to help her up she slips him a note that says "I love you". The notion rocks his entire world. It takes days for them to be able to meet to discuss this because romantic love is supremely frowned upon by Big Brother. Weeks later they are finally able to meet in a wooded area where they have sex.
As it turns out she is a "rebel from the waist down" named Julia. She was born after the revolution and so has known nothing else. She pushes the party line in public and works hard in the community centers and then uses sex as her rebellion. Winston was certainly not her first. In many ways, provided that she isn't a spy for Big Brother, she's exactly the sort of the person that is a threat to Big Brother. She will pay lip service to all but secretly hold no convictions. The generation after her will be the one to revolt.
Winston analyses his feelings for Julia and can't bring himself to regard it as Pure Love or Pure Lust.
"No emotion was pure, because everything was mixed up with fear and hatred. Their embrace had been a battle, the climax a victory. It was a blow struck against the Party. It was a political act."
I'm not sure that this has any more redeeming value than Winston's wife who only has sex with him because it is her "duty to the Party". To the modern perception they should be lauded for doing "Something...anything that makes them feel like they are moving forward". Personally...I'm not so sure. In the end this little act of "rebellion" doesn't actually strike a blow against anyone in any way...except perhaps in their minds.
Orwell does a great job of showing just how love or even infatuation can change someone's perception of life. Everything seems brighter, happier; the food tastes better (or in this case less bad), the flowers (were there any) smell sweeter. Everything is more bearable with those precious hormones pumping through our systems.
Orwell also does a good job of describing what the side effects of a sexually repressed society are.
"What was more was that sexual privation induced hysteria, which was desirable because it could be transformed into war fever and leader worship." Huh. Hadn't thought of it that way.
Julia explains, "All this marching up and down and cheering and waving flags is simply sex gone sour. If you're happy inside yourself, why should you get excited about Big Brother and the Three-Year Plans and the Two Minute Hate and all the rest of their bloody rot."
Sex does inevitably lead to children, generally speaking.
"The family could not be abolished, and, indeed, people were encouraged to be fond of their children in almost the old-fashioned way. The children, on the other hand, were systematically turned against their parents and taught to spy on them and report their deviations. The family had become in effect an extension of the Thought Police. It was a device by means of which everyone could be surrounded night and day by informers who knew him intimately."
Yeesh. Totalitarian systems always, always, distort traditional systems to their own purposes.
The two move their love affair, quite dangerously, into the room above the junk shop where Winston bought the journal. Whereas before they would take extra precautions and never meet in the same place twice, they meet at the room above frequently.
"Both of them knew it was lunacy. It was as thought they were intentionally stepping nearer to their graves."
My favorite part of the entire book so far has been those moments in the room. He's not very descriptive of what goes on there. The before and after he is, but not the during of course.
I've spent the last 15 years feeling something very similar. Not the passion of "new love" but the bits that stay as you move through the years. No matter what I am doing, if it's with my love the whole thing is at least 10 times better. I've given up going to movies that only I want to see. All experiences without her are shades dimmer. For a long time I was even planning a trip to all the cities that I ever lived in so that I could "redeem" them with her. A silly notion, but I want to show her every place I ever went or ever explored. Sadly I mostly lived on military bases so I can't ever truly fulfill that, but the point remains. When the couple notice bugs and rats in the room it doesn't matter as much as it would otherwise. There's this feeling I get with my wife that sounds crazy to explain. When we are together, side by side, it's like that little area is all that exists in the world. Kundera in The Unbearable Lightness of Being called it "A Nation of Two". That's close. The space traveling sphere from The Fountain is closer. It feels as if nothing else exists or matters or even could ever matter. I swear I think that's why God has created children as a consequence of sex. They move us beyond our comfortable little zone by necessity and draw us out into a broader world.
It's like that paperweight with the coral inside it.
Pax,
W
This next section of the novel begins with more detail in regard to the society's "values", as they may be loosely termed.
Leftover from previous chapters: I still find the differences between the two castes to be fascinating. The Party is kept under strict rules at all times. The Proles are given few, if any, rules as long as they maintain their patriotism. The Party is given exclusive rights to the possession and consumption of alcohol which is manufactured by Big Brother. The Proles are given exclusive rights to possession and consumption of pornography which is manufactured by big brother. I suppose that both are made to keep each caste compliant. That alcohol "cheers" the members of the Party so they don't feel as closed in and oppressed, I suppose. The pornography, I guess, keeps the Proles titillated and encourages breeding which creates more workers.
Chapter eight begins with the information that the Party is pretty much required to be engaging in communal activities when not working, eating or sleeping. "Enforced" community participation is ultimately another way to figure out who is loyal and who is not.
"...to do anything that suggested a taste for solitude, even to go for a walk by yourself, was always slightly dangerous. There was a word for it in Newspeak: ownlife, it was called, meaning individualism and eccentricity."
Ownlife would generally bring out the Thought Police after you...as would walking home by a different route.
Another way the Proles were pacified was by the institution of "The Lottery", which is rather identical to our own lottery systems. In the world of Big Brother the prizes were imaginary, but kept the potentially unruly Proles happy by thinking of how one day they'd be living the good life. Sounds very familiar. Not that I'm saying the Lotteries in our world are imaginary, but I do wonder if they serve a very similar purpose among the lower class. When I was at my poorest, for all intents and purposes homeless, a lot of people I knew spend about as much money on scratch tickets and Powerball as they did on food. One guy who worked at the same pizza place that I washed dishes for would take home a whole pizza every night so that he wouldn't have to buy food and thereby "increase" his chances of winning. Yeah.
Winston goes among the Proles, not expressly forbidden because, you know, there are no laws to break only imprisonment or execution to fear, in order to possibly find an old timer who might remember the days before the glorious revolution. Every man avoids his direct questioning. Winston then moves on and finds himself in front of the very shop where he purchased the journal. He goes in cautiously, looks around, and finds a glass paperweight with a piece of coral in it. It fascinates him because of its absolute uselessness. He then discovers a second floor with a bed and a picture of a seashore.
Upon departing the store he notices a girl with a red sash about her waist pass him. He'd seen her before, shouting the loudest at the 2 minute Hate. Worried he would be found out, that she might have been following him as a spy, he considers strangling her or bashing her head in with a rock.
Fortunately he did neither of these things (Well, I say "fortunately" not knowing how it will end). Days later she trips right in front of him. When he reaches down to help her up she slips him a note that says "I love you". The notion rocks his entire world. It takes days for them to be able to meet to discuss this because romantic love is supremely frowned upon by Big Brother. Weeks later they are finally able to meet in a wooded area where they have sex.
As it turns out she is a "rebel from the waist down" named Julia. She was born after the revolution and so has known nothing else. She pushes the party line in public and works hard in the community centers and then uses sex as her rebellion. Winston was certainly not her first. In many ways, provided that she isn't a spy for Big Brother, she's exactly the sort of the person that is a threat to Big Brother. She will pay lip service to all but secretly hold no convictions. The generation after her will be the one to revolt.
Winston analyses his feelings for Julia and can't bring himself to regard it as Pure Love or Pure Lust.
"No emotion was pure, because everything was mixed up with fear and hatred. Their embrace had been a battle, the climax a victory. It was a blow struck against the Party. It was a political act."
I'm not sure that this has any more redeeming value than Winston's wife who only has sex with him because it is her "duty to the Party". To the modern perception they should be lauded for doing "Something...anything that makes them feel like they are moving forward". Personally...I'm not so sure. In the end this little act of "rebellion" doesn't actually strike a blow against anyone in any way...except perhaps in their minds.
Orwell does a great job of showing just how love or even infatuation can change someone's perception of life. Everything seems brighter, happier; the food tastes better (or in this case less bad), the flowers (were there any) smell sweeter. Everything is more bearable with those precious hormones pumping through our systems.
Orwell also does a good job of describing what the side effects of a sexually repressed society are.
"What was more was that sexual privation induced hysteria, which was desirable because it could be transformed into war fever and leader worship." Huh. Hadn't thought of it that way.
Julia explains, "All this marching up and down and cheering and waving flags is simply sex gone sour. If you're happy inside yourself, why should you get excited about Big Brother and the Three-Year Plans and the Two Minute Hate and all the rest of their bloody rot."
Sex does inevitably lead to children, generally speaking.
"The family could not be abolished, and, indeed, people were encouraged to be fond of their children in almost the old-fashioned way. The children, on the other hand, were systematically turned against their parents and taught to spy on them and report their deviations. The family had become in effect an extension of the Thought Police. It was a device by means of which everyone could be surrounded night and day by informers who knew him intimately."
Yeesh. Totalitarian systems always, always, distort traditional systems to their own purposes.
The two move their love affair, quite dangerously, into the room above the junk shop where Winston bought the journal. Whereas before they would take extra precautions and never meet in the same place twice, they meet at the room above frequently.
"Both of them knew it was lunacy. It was as thought they were intentionally stepping nearer to their graves."
My favorite part of the entire book so far has been those moments in the room. He's not very descriptive of what goes on there. The before and after he is, but not the during of course.
I've spent the last 15 years feeling something very similar. Not the passion of "new love" but the bits that stay as you move through the years. No matter what I am doing, if it's with my love the whole thing is at least 10 times better. I've given up going to movies that only I want to see. All experiences without her are shades dimmer. For a long time I was even planning a trip to all the cities that I ever lived in so that I could "redeem" them with her. A silly notion, but I want to show her every place I ever went or ever explored. Sadly I mostly lived on military bases so I can't ever truly fulfill that, but the point remains. When the couple notice bugs and rats in the room it doesn't matter as much as it would otherwise. There's this feeling I get with my wife that sounds crazy to explain. When we are together, side by side, it's like that little area is all that exists in the world. Kundera in The Unbearable Lightness of Being called it "A Nation of Two". That's close. The space traveling sphere from The Fountain is closer. It feels as if nothing else exists or matters or even could ever matter. I swear I think that's why God has created children as a consequence of sex. They move us beyond our comfortable little zone by necessity and draw us out into a broader world.
It's like that paperweight with the coral inside it.
Pax,
W
Saturday, May 30, 2015
The Harrowing ("1984" Part 1 Ch. 1-7 )
(harrowing: adj, acutely distressing)
Before I get started on what very well may be my most epic post (in size...I don't guarantee epic quality of content) I want to point out that with this post I am sure to go over one thousand pageviews. The fact that anyone looks at my blog at all makes me happy. When there are enough people looking at it that it has been viewed one thousand times...while I may not sure how to process that stimulation I do, however, know how to appropriately respond.
Before I get started on what very well may be my most epic post (in size...I don't guarantee epic quality of content) I want to point out that with this post I am sure to go over one thousand pageviews. The fact that anyone looks at my blog at all makes me happy. When there are enough people looking at it that it has been viewed one thousand times...while I may not sure how to process that stimulation I do, however, know how to appropriately respond.
Thank You.
Now that we've had a puppy validate you with positivity and cuteness, it's time for the bleakness.
The world that George Orwell creates is not frightening because of its substance or structure. If he set it on some alien planet populated by Zygons then it would be an amusing entertainment. It is so frightening because it is so close to not only the world we live in but the world we are becoming. Every technological step along the way, every change in how we consume information propels us closer to 1984. There's a sort of vertigo that I feel, that fear as we get closer and closer to the edge and we can see Oceania below.
The story itself is not the point of the book. It is quite rightly seen as a warning rather than entertainment. Normally I try to give a sense of the overall storyline in my blog. With this novel, there are so many more ideas than actual story. I haven't marked up a book like this since Atlas Shrugged. I openly wondered to my wife if this book would change me in a similar way as Ayn Rand's prescient masterpiece. She shrugged and said, "Probably not". Now that we are both reading 1984 together it's clear that it will change us both.
The basic story is that of a man, Winston Smith, who goes about his day and life as a member of the Party. In this world there are two castes. There are the Proles, the working class stiffs, who are pretty much anyone middle class and lower. Proles make up 85% of the population and are essentially "slave" labor for the Party. The Party is the government, the intelligentsia, and the media. They are the college graduates, the blessed, the smart ones who are controlled and indoctrinated by the ubiquitous and mustachioed Big Brother. It's fairly strange to think, but the Party is more indoctrinated and has more confining laws placed on them than the Proles.
Winston has strange feelings that there is something missing in life. He has noticed for ages that Big Brother and the Party manipulate facts and even create them out of whole cloth. The past, which he can barely remember, has been erased and changed in so many ways that he can't be sure what is true. Truth, in itself, could just be another lie.
Without realizing why, Winston purchases a diary at a shop and takes it home. He discovered a blind spot in his apartment where the all seeing Teleplate cannot observe him and takes up writing in it. He's gripped with an exhilarating fear as he goes to write in it.
"The thing he was about to do was open a diary. This was not illegal (nothing was illegal, since there were no longer any laws), but if detected it was reasonably certain that it would be punished by death, or at least by twenty-five years in a forced-labor camp."
And that is our first taste of the great paradox of living in the world of Big Brother. Sure, their slogans routinely pumped into them are:
The world that George Orwell creates is not frightening because of its substance or structure. If he set it on some alien planet populated by Zygons then it would be an amusing entertainment. It is so frightening because it is so close to not only the world we live in but the world we are becoming. Every technological step along the way, every change in how we consume information propels us closer to 1984. There's a sort of vertigo that I feel, that fear as we get closer and closer to the edge and we can see Oceania below.
The story itself is not the point of the book. It is quite rightly seen as a warning rather than entertainment. Normally I try to give a sense of the overall storyline in my blog. With this novel, there are so many more ideas than actual story. I haven't marked up a book like this since Atlas Shrugged. I openly wondered to my wife if this book would change me in a similar way as Ayn Rand's prescient masterpiece. She shrugged and said, "Probably not". Now that we are both reading 1984 together it's clear that it will change us both.
The basic story is that of a man, Winston Smith, who goes about his day and life as a member of the Party. In this world there are two castes. There are the Proles, the working class stiffs, who are pretty much anyone middle class and lower. Proles make up 85% of the population and are essentially "slave" labor for the Party. The Party is the government, the intelligentsia, and the media. They are the college graduates, the blessed, the smart ones who are controlled and indoctrinated by the ubiquitous and mustachioed Big Brother. It's fairly strange to think, but the Party is more indoctrinated and has more confining laws placed on them than the Proles.
Winston has strange feelings that there is something missing in life. He has noticed for ages that Big Brother and the Party manipulate facts and even create them out of whole cloth. The past, which he can barely remember, has been erased and changed in so many ways that he can't be sure what is true. Truth, in itself, could just be another lie.
Without realizing why, Winston purchases a diary at a shop and takes it home. He discovered a blind spot in his apartment where the all seeing Teleplate cannot observe him and takes up writing in it. He's gripped with an exhilarating fear as he goes to write in it.
"The thing he was about to do was open a diary. This was not illegal (nothing was illegal, since there were no longer any laws), but if detected it was reasonably certain that it would be punished by death, or at least by twenty-five years in a forced-labor camp."
And that is our first taste of the great paradox of living in the world of Big Brother. Sure, their slogans routinely pumped into them are:
"WAR IS PEACE
FREEDOM IS SLAVERY
FREEDOM IS SLAVERY
IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH."
But that can be readily discarded as party propaganda. This fear is how they actually live on a day to day basis. It is the substance of their thoughts which is, after all, Big Brother's goal. Dominance of thought. ELIMINATION of thought, actually. This is how they think. It's not illegal because there are no laws, but I could be punished for it. Insane? Just wait.
Winston works as one who "corrects" the past. He adjusts news articles so that Big Brother appears to be all knowing, non-contradictory, and perfect in all his words. He sort of sees a problem with this but his indoctrination is so deep that it is easier not to think. A good member of the party always chooses not to think. There are things he can't not think on though. For instance:
"Oceania was at war with Eurasia and in alliance with Eastasia. In no public or private utterance was it ever admitted that the three powers had at any time been grouped along different lines. Actually, as Winston well knew, it was only four years since Oceania had been at war with Eastasia and in alliance with Eurasia. But that was merely a piece of furtive knowledge which he happened to possess because his memory was not satisfactorily under control. Officially the change of partners had never happened"..."The enemy of the moment always represented absolute evil, and it followed that any past or future agreement with him was impossible."
Winston viewed it as HIS fault for remembering anything other than the way the Party said it.
"If the Party could thrust its hand into the past and say of this or that event, it never happened- that, surely, was more terrifying than mere torture or death."
"Reality Control".
This serves as a primer to doublethink: "To know and not to know, to be conscious of complete truthfulness while telling carefully constructed lies...to use logic against logic, to repudiate morality while laying claim to it."
One only needs to turn on the TV, read a newspaper, or just pay attention to what is going on in the world to see all of this in action.
The world we live in, this digitally predominant world, makes the past so easily malleable. If we don't have hard copy then any administration could change something of the past. People have been rightly worried about how easy it is to edit things like Wikipedia. People look at it and believe its contents are truth. However, if enough people agree that something should be changed it will be. Our past could easily be destroyed. I remember being in a discussion with someone about how my daughter was being taught that this leftist Union Leader in America was a hero. They shrugged, said they didn't see anything wrong with it. I mentioned, well except for the fact that he used violence, physical and financial retribution to achieve his goals. If that was true, they reasoned, then they wouldn't teach about him to children. We rationalize before we even dare to look it up. It was not something that was included in the Wikipedia article and so what use was there in still looking? Less than 5 minutes of doing a different search yielded proof. With just ideology and a keyboard it has been wiped from the popular consciousness.
Recently I watched a TED talk where the speaker actually said the words "The era of knowing is over. We don't need to actually have knowledge anymore. If we need information we can look it up and then should forget it when we don't need it anymore."
Creeping closer.
There are so many political issues on both sides of the spectrum that frighten me. I have met so few people who even question their own party's line. They'll give a pass on anything because it's "their guy". They'll ignore blatant lies, forgive "readjustments" of their candidates history, and not bat an eye when he/she lies to them again, and again, and again. If the other side does it then they are, quite naturally, scumbags bent on destroying the country. We aren't that far from a single party in all but name anyway. There is no consistency and no principles. "Orthodoxy means not thinking - not needing to think. Orthodoxy is unconsciousness." That, as far as Orwell's warning, is already here in many ways.
Personally I find the notion of Newspeak as particularly offensive. It is the new language of Oceania, always being refined. As a colleague of Winston's declares, "You think, I dare say, that our chief job is inventing new words. But not a bit of it! We're destroying words - scores of them, hundreds of them, every day. We're cutting the language down to the bone." Later her justifies, "After all, what justification is there for a word which is simply the opposite of some other words?...If you have a word like 'good,' what need is there for a word like 'bad'? 'Ungood' will do just as well..."
With some zealousness he later explains, "Don't you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought? In the end we shall make thoughcrime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it...Every year fewer and fewer words, and the range of consciousness always a little smaller."
So, what would be the fall out? "Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Byron - they'll exist only in Newspeak versions, not merely changed into something different, but actually changed into something contradictory of what they use to be."
There is so much here that my mind is all abuzz with multiple ideas all firing at the same time. Let's see if I can organize them and tease them into some sort coherent mess.
Firstly, language is so extremely important. Their goal of controlling the people through language is not as far fetched as it seems. When I first learned about rhetoric my mind was completely blown. Rhetoric is how people use language in order to effectively state their position on something. Well, that's the Light Side of rhetoric. The Dark Side of rhetoric is choosing carefully the words you use in order to manipulate the listener/reader. It's one thing to have a news report with the headline "Fifteen soldiers killed in a firefight with the Taliban" and completely another to say "Fifteen soldiers slaughtered in a firefight with the Taliban". Which one grips you more emotionally? The second one clearly sells more papers and, intended or not, makes you feel more negatively about the Taliban, or on the other hand may predispose you negatively toward the war.
Every day, language is used to manipulate. Your emotions are being toyed with in order to achieve a desired result. Now, in the world of advertising we can just go "Oh, look, they're using sex to sell blue jeans again" and discard it if we want. Language is more tricky. Reading and hearing automatically sets up residence in our minds and few are trained, let alone have the desire, to put it in a holding tank to consider it and either hold it or jettison.
I learned this and paid attention on my own over the years and then one day took a high level philosophy course as an elective. (Yes...I took philosophy for fun.) I get bored fairly easily, and so one of my ways to fend off boredom is to play with language and ideas. I squish them, stretch them, spin them on their head just to see what happens. I like to hold two contradictory thoughts in my head at one time and then watch as they play Texas Hold'em...to the death. It was during one of these 'bouts that I realized that the teacher was manipulating the whole class. He had taught about rhetoric only from the perspective of "the enemy" as perpetrator. There wasn't a single bit about how our own "party" our own "allies" manipulate us. I watched as he manipulated the class from one side of the issue to the other side of the issue and every one of them followed like obedient little ducklings and agreed wholeheartedly without even considering that just five minutes ago they were agreeing wholeheartedly with the complete opposite. I started chuckling and the teacher turned and gave me a wink, knowing that I'd caught it. He asked me, for the benefit of the class, to tell what I was chuckling at. I explained and watched as each person in that 30 seat classroom couldn't figure it out. They defended each side, as they had heard from the teacher, and some people even managing to argue the validity both contradictory views at the same time.
So, what does this have to do with 1984? We're not so far from it. The enemy is the one trying to manipulate you, they will tell you, while deliberately and blatantly manipulating you just as well. It's the Democrats. It's the Republicans. It's the Libertarians. It's Greenpeace. It's Big Oil. It's the church. It's Atheism. Language and loyalty are the blinders every institution uses. Not every institution is bad. Not every use of rhetoric is bad, but we need to be aware of it or we may as well be sidling up to Big Brother. If your emotions are engage by those you trust in order to sway your opinion then remember the "Two Minute Hate" from this book. I am immediately suspicious of anything that engages my emotions in an argument of ideas because that tends to mean logic won't win them their argument.
Pax,
Will Arbaugh
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
WIKA "1984"
What I know about 1984:
Pretty much everything I know about 1984 I know from osmosis. It is literally everywhere in entertainment. Whether it's Hodgins on Bones saying he's worried about Big Brother listening in the on the conversation or watching Minority Report and worry about the Thought Police, we cannot help but know this novel without having actually read it. It directly informs THX1138, George Lucas' student film which is world the reading, and even my favorite novel of all time which I've never actually finished reading, Lanark by Alisdair Grey. All of Phillip K. Dick's paranoid sci-fi fantasies find their root there.
One of the most acclaimed commercials of all time was a spot for the first Macintosh from Apple. It's tagline declared that the Macintosh was the reason "1984 won't be like 1984", an endearing moment of marketing hubris that clearly wasn't the case. Even our most recent scandal, the NSA spying on American citizens, is reported on by using buzzwords from George Orwell's work. It has so fully permeated the culture that I believe that anyone could tell you the basic storyline without ever having actually read it.
George Orwell was, of course, the man who wrote Animal Farm which I also haven't yet read. I can feel the judgmental glares now, stop. I was homeschooled half my life. I was reading Treasure Island, Kidnapped, Robinson Crusoe, and Pilgrim's Progress instead and they've done well enough. I regret nothing.
I often get George Orwell and H. G. Wells mixed up in my head. I'm not sure why.
I'm really looking forward to this one. A dark novel about a totalitarian society is probably just what I need after Wuthering Heights. At least it might be a bit of a decent comedown before I get to the next novel, Little Women.
Pax,
W
Pretty much everything I know about 1984 I know from osmosis. It is literally everywhere in entertainment. Whether it's Hodgins on Bones saying he's worried about Big Brother listening in the on the conversation or watching Minority Report and worry about the Thought Police, we cannot help but know this novel without having actually read it. It directly informs THX1138, George Lucas' student film which is world the reading, and even my favorite novel of all time which I've never actually finished reading, Lanark by Alisdair Grey. All of Phillip K. Dick's paranoid sci-fi fantasies find their root there.
One of the most acclaimed commercials of all time was a spot for the first Macintosh from Apple. It's tagline declared that the Macintosh was the reason "1984 won't be like 1984", an endearing moment of marketing hubris that clearly wasn't the case. Even our most recent scandal, the NSA spying on American citizens, is reported on by using buzzwords from George Orwell's work. It has so fully permeated the culture that I believe that anyone could tell you the basic storyline without ever having actually read it.
George Orwell was, of course, the man who wrote Animal Farm which I also haven't yet read. I can feel the judgmental glares now, stop. I was homeschooled half my life. I was reading Treasure Island, Kidnapped, Robinson Crusoe, and Pilgrim's Progress instead and they've done well enough. I regret nothing.
I often get George Orwell and H. G. Wells mixed up in my head. I'm not sure why.
I'm really looking forward to this one. A dark novel about a totalitarian society is probably just what I need after Wuthering Heights. At least it might be a bit of a decent comedown before I get to the next novel, Little Women.
Pax,
W
Wednesday, May 20, 2015
A Good End to Bad Things (Wuthering Heights CH 22-34)
I'm in a strange mental space upon finishing this book, so forgive me if that is reflected in this blog. I had intended to give a fiery denouncement of this book, and I still may, but it is less likely now. It's rather like attending a funeral of someone who had done you ill in the past. Death puts this weird perspective on things. Even the prospect of someone dying makes so much forgivable and we see that person in a rosier light than we did when they were healthy and seemed to have all the time in the world.
Given that, I think it would be best to section this post on Wuthering Heights into certain themes.
The End
The final third of the novel was actually more interesting than the rest of the novel. Cathy's father died and Heathcliff forced her to live under his roof and began to torture her especially after Linton died leaving everything to him rather than her...which of course was the plan all along.
There's this very subtle shift that occurs after Linton dies and Heathcliff wins. It's so subtle that I almost wonder if I'm making it up. There are moments and beats, shades of ways Heathcliff says things that seem to show that deep down he realizes how very hollow his victory is. He's fought, railed, abused, and tormented everyone his entire life. Now that everyone he could have been victorious against is dead and he's "won" there's nothing left. His life's actually without any sort of meaning. Certainly he continues to abuse Cathy and Hareton, but there are moments where he stops himself in the middle because he sees the dead looking right back at him through the eyes of the children. He's won...and nobody could care less. Indeed, the children have gotten to the point where they are just waiting him out. They don't say as much, but it's clear they can see an end to their torture, and so are less fearful of him.
Cathy's situation is particularly interesting to me. Here she was an intelligent and empathetic creature always trying to do right even if she got confused by romance, and once under Heathcliff's thumb she began to shift into this terrible creature. She causes discord for fun, delights in mocking Hareton for bettering himself by learning to read, and is generally spiteful to all. Here we go again, I thought, the apple isn't falling far from the tree. I was genuinely surprised to find what resistance there was in both of their hearts to this darkening. There were a few genuinely hopeful moments in the last third that indicated that these children (well, I say children but they were 23 and 18 years of age) would not make the same mistakes as their parents.
Heathcliff tells her that he will torment her as payment for living under her roof. She boldly looks at him with the eyes of her namesake and says "Mr. Heathcliff, you have nobody to love you; and however miserable you makes us, we shall still have the revenge of thinking that your cruelty arises from your greater misery. You are miserable, are you not? Lonely, like the devil, and envious like him? Nobody loves you - nobody will cry for you when you die! I wouldn't be you!"
Right next to that piece is my notation in black ink, "Daaaang, sister!"
Later Hareton and Cathy start to fall in love when both realize their toxic ways are less than beneficial and apologize to each other. They begin to show kindness and tenderness in a house of abuse and naturally they are drawn to it. They decide to make a little flower garden to please each other. Unfortunately Hareton digs up the wrong bushes. They explain and Heathcliff turns on Cathy.
'"And who the devil gave you leave to touch a stick about the place?...And who ordered you to obey her?" he added, turning to Hareton.
The Latter was speechless; his cousin replied - "You shouldn't grudge a few yards of earth for me to ornaments, when you have taken all my land!" (Oh, snap!)
"Your land, insolent slut! You never had any," said Heathcliff.'
He goes to hit her, Hareton stands by her side and he pales. It's as if they're saying, "We're just waiting you out old man. You won't be able to torment us forever".
For Earnshaw, Catherine, Edgar, Isabella, and even Linton, to a lesser degree, Heathcliff was something they had to endure in one form or another for the rest of their lives. His obsession and abuse shaped them and there was little hope of a reprieve. For the kids, they can swallow it down and not be permanently shaped by it. With Linton dead, he realizes, he leaves nothing of his own behind. Neither of the titles or lands were ever truly his. He was a foundling replacement in the stead of a child who died at birth.
Any remorse he may have had fades quickly at the prospect of being reunited in death with Catherine...which was pretty weak in my estimation.
The book does end happily and I was quite pleased with the ending, but it is not even remotely a book I would read through again just for that ending. I'll but the book on my "100 Books" bookcase and it will travel with me wherever I go, but it will never be opened again. It's too infuriating and it's main characters too vile. Most of my favorite books I return to in order to welcome my "friends" with open arms. This book I'd only be capable of returning to with a clenched fist.
Love and Obsession/Passion
Much is made of the "Love Story" supposedly found within these pages. I've looked at so many reviews that say "Oh, how I wish I had a man who loved me like Heathcliff" and I can't help but wonder what they mean by that. He was abusive to every woman in his life including Catherine and terrible in general to every one else. If you want a man to beat you about the face and neck, threaten your relatives, and attempt to murder your pets then I'm pretty sure that your average psych ward could grant you some prospects.
Now, naturally, no one wants those terrible things. So, what could they possibly mean by that?
To my mind what they are saying is that they want someone who feels strongly, passionately, about them, and I get that. I know so many people who say, "Man, if the fireworks aren't there then there's no point at all." The problem with that is that fireworks inevitably fade. They HAVE to. The proverbial "fireworks" are nothing more than chemicals in the brain. "Love" shoots us up with a crazy cocktail of hormones that are not unlike a drug. It is AMAZING to feel that way for weeks or even months. We easily become addicted to it. Just like any drug our bodies necessarily acclimate to it and need more in order to just feel buzzed. Instead of taking more hits we escalate situations in order to get the high. This leads to fighting, and abuse. As someone who was once the victim in an abusive relationship I can tell you that this happened to me and I stayed. Why? The mental and physical abuse was hell, but the makeup time was just the dose I needed to get high. One of my friends at the time described it perfectly. He said, "Imagine being in a cold, black box. You're in there for weeks at a time and then she opens the lid letting in the warm sunshine. You hope she'll take you out of the box, and she swears she will. You believe it every time because it feels so good." When you are addicted to passion you make the other person your "dealer" and you'll bow to nearly any whim for another high.
What Heathcliff and Catherine have is not love in any way shape or form. It can be loosely described as "passion". It is a wind storm devastating everything in its path leading to nothing in the end. There's nothing tangible or real about their "love". It's abusive to one another and everyone around them.
The real tragedy is that Catherine had love and didn't want it. Edgar Linton treated Catherine with dignity, respect, and doted on her in every way he could. Even to the end he was at her bedside refusing to leave or even sleep. It wasn't loud, it wasn't exciting, but it was healthy, wholesome and, if she had let it, it would have nurtured her. Genuine love is recognized not by how it feels but, rather, by what it does. Passion will get you high, but love will sustain you when you are in the depths. The fireworks do not last, and I thank God that they don't. When you're high on endorphins you can be the blindest you've ever been. You'll drink poison and swear it tastes like champagne. When the passion fades you can see things rightly. You can see what the two of you need to work on and how best to be each other's helpmate. Getting high on passion is always self centered and genuine love is other centered. Without some sort of morality healthy love cannot exist. It's merely passionate, self centered obsession.
Why, Emily? Why?
I've scanned a few articles on the net as to why Emily Bronte wrote Wuthering Heights and have discovered that there is nothing on the subject directly from Emily or any of her sisters. We are left with, as I declared in the first place, a terrible story about terrible people who do terrible things to each other. Now I am compelled to add, "with a little hope at the end."
I do not believe that Emily Bronte wrote this book in order to celebrate this abusive "love". It's much in the same way that Trainspotting was not, as many moral people believed and declared loudly, a book/movie that glorifies heroine usage. Seriously, all you have to do is watch the first fifteen minutes of the movie to get that it's about the horrors of heroine usage.
All we need do is to look at who the "hero" of the book actually is; Nelly. She is our perspective through 90% of the novel (the other 10% being made up of the unnecessary Mr. Lockwood). Nelly endures the sufferings, celebrates the joys, and accurately predicts the demise of every character. She's the only one throughout who cares about the others. She's the only one who holds any hope of redemption for anyone. Even Heathcliff she calls a Goblin or a Devil from the moment she sees him as a child and still keeps hoping she can nudge him into some sort of morality.
Charlotte Bronte, in speaking of the novel after it was published...sadly after the death of Emily, stated that it was the most accurate portrayal of life in those obscure manors that were such a distance from town. Isolation from the rest of the "herd" produces these strange abuses and odd behaviors.
Once I realized that it is a critique of such people and life then it became infinitely more tolerable. Still...not tolerable enough to read again. How this book is on the top 100 of all time is still a mystery to me, but then again so is Phillip Pullman's His Dark Materials.
Thank you one and all for sticking through this lengthy process of reviewing this book. I appreciate how frustrating it must have been to wait so long between posts, but I just couldn't handle it all at once as I normally try to do them.
Next is George Orwell's 1984 which I expect will be a read that delights me. Sadly, I will only be able to get a copy sometime after the first of next month. Until then I'll be reading classic sci-fi magazines from the 60's in order to recover from this 100 Brontes on the Austen/Bronte scale...which only goes up to 10.
Pax,
W
Given that, I think it would be best to section this post on Wuthering Heights into certain themes.
The End
The final third of the novel was actually more interesting than the rest of the novel. Cathy's father died and Heathcliff forced her to live under his roof and began to torture her especially after Linton died leaving everything to him rather than her...which of course was the plan all along.
There's this very subtle shift that occurs after Linton dies and Heathcliff wins. It's so subtle that I almost wonder if I'm making it up. There are moments and beats, shades of ways Heathcliff says things that seem to show that deep down he realizes how very hollow his victory is. He's fought, railed, abused, and tormented everyone his entire life. Now that everyone he could have been victorious against is dead and he's "won" there's nothing left. His life's actually without any sort of meaning. Certainly he continues to abuse Cathy and Hareton, but there are moments where he stops himself in the middle because he sees the dead looking right back at him through the eyes of the children. He's won...and nobody could care less. Indeed, the children have gotten to the point where they are just waiting him out. They don't say as much, but it's clear they can see an end to their torture, and so are less fearful of him.
Cathy's situation is particularly interesting to me. Here she was an intelligent and empathetic creature always trying to do right even if she got confused by romance, and once under Heathcliff's thumb she began to shift into this terrible creature. She causes discord for fun, delights in mocking Hareton for bettering himself by learning to read, and is generally spiteful to all. Here we go again, I thought, the apple isn't falling far from the tree. I was genuinely surprised to find what resistance there was in both of their hearts to this darkening. There were a few genuinely hopeful moments in the last third that indicated that these children (well, I say children but they were 23 and 18 years of age) would not make the same mistakes as their parents.
Heathcliff tells her that he will torment her as payment for living under her roof. She boldly looks at him with the eyes of her namesake and says "Mr. Heathcliff, you have nobody to love you; and however miserable you makes us, we shall still have the revenge of thinking that your cruelty arises from your greater misery. You are miserable, are you not? Lonely, like the devil, and envious like him? Nobody loves you - nobody will cry for you when you die! I wouldn't be you!"
Right next to that piece is my notation in black ink, "Daaaang, sister!"
Later Hareton and Cathy start to fall in love when both realize their toxic ways are less than beneficial and apologize to each other. They begin to show kindness and tenderness in a house of abuse and naturally they are drawn to it. They decide to make a little flower garden to please each other. Unfortunately Hareton digs up the wrong bushes. They explain and Heathcliff turns on Cathy.
'"And who the devil gave you leave to touch a stick about the place?...And who ordered you to obey her?" he added, turning to Hareton.
The Latter was speechless; his cousin replied - "You shouldn't grudge a few yards of earth for me to ornaments, when you have taken all my land!" (Oh, snap!)
"Your land, insolent slut! You never had any," said Heathcliff.'
He goes to hit her, Hareton stands by her side and he pales. It's as if they're saying, "We're just waiting you out old man. You won't be able to torment us forever".
For Earnshaw, Catherine, Edgar, Isabella, and even Linton, to a lesser degree, Heathcliff was something they had to endure in one form or another for the rest of their lives. His obsession and abuse shaped them and there was little hope of a reprieve. For the kids, they can swallow it down and not be permanently shaped by it. With Linton dead, he realizes, he leaves nothing of his own behind. Neither of the titles or lands were ever truly his. He was a foundling replacement in the stead of a child who died at birth.
Any remorse he may have had fades quickly at the prospect of being reunited in death with Catherine...which was pretty weak in my estimation.
The book does end happily and I was quite pleased with the ending, but it is not even remotely a book I would read through again just for that ending. I'll but the book on my "100 Books" bookcase and it will travel with me wherever I go, but it will never be opened again. It's too infuriating and it's main characters too vile. Most of my favorite books I return to in order to welcome my "friends" with open arms. This book I'd only be capable of returning to with a clenched fist.
Love and Obsession/Passion
Much is made of the "Love Story" supposedly found within these pages. I've looked at so many reviews that say "Oh, how I wish I had a man who loved me like Heathcliff" and I can't help but wonder what they mean by that. He was abusive to every woman in his life including Catherine and terrible in general to every one else. If you want a man to beat you about the face and neck, threaten your relatives, and attempt to murder your pets then I'm pretty sure that your average psych ward could grant you some prospects.
Now, naturally, no one wants those terrible things. So, what could they possibly mean by that?
To my mind what they are saying is that they want someone who feels strongly, passionately, about them, and I get that. I know so many people who say, "Man, if the fireworks aren't there then there's no point at all." The problem with that is that fireworks inevitably fade. They HAVE to. The proverbial "fireworks" are nothing more than chemicals in the brain. "Love" shoots us up with a crazy cocktail of hormones that are not unlike a drug. It is AMAZING to feel that way for weeks or even months. We easily become addicted to it. Just like any drug our bodies necessarily acclimate to it and need more in order to just feel buzzed. Instead of taking more hits we escalate situations in order to get the high. This leads to fighting, and abuse. As someone who was once the victim in an abusive relationship I can tell you that this happened to me and I stayed. Why? The mental and physical abuse was hell, but the makeup time was just the dose I needed to get high. One of my friends at the time described it perfectly. He said, "Imagine being in a cold, black box. You're in there for weeks at a time and then she opens the lid letting in the warm sunshine. You hope she'll take you out of the box, and she swears she will. You believe it every time because it feels so good." When you are addicted to passion you make the other person your "dealer" and you'll bow to nearly any whim for another high.
What Heathcliff and Catherine have is not love in any way shape or form. It can be loosely described as "passion". It is a wind storm devastating everything in its path leading to nothing in the end. There's nothing tangible or real about their "love". It's abusive to one another and everyone around them.
The real tragedy is that Catherine had love and didn't want it. Edgar Linton treated Catherine with dignity, respect, and doted on her in every way he could. Even to the end he was at her bedside refusing to leave or even sleep. It wasn't loud, it wasn't exciting, but it was healthy, wholesome and, if she had let it, it would have nurtured her. Genuine love is recognized not by how it feels but, rather, by what it does. Passion will get you high, but love will sustain you when you are in the depths. The fireworks do not last, and I thank God that they don't. When you're high on endorphins you can be the blindest you've ever been. You'll drink poison and swear it tastes like champagne. When the passion fades you can see things rightly. You can see what the two of you need to work on and how best to be each other's helpmate. Getting high on passion is always self centered and genuine love is other centered. Without some sort of morality healthy love cannot exist. It's merely passionate, self centered obsession.
Why, Emily? Why?
I've scanned a few articles on the net as to why Emily Bronte wrote Wuthering Heights and have discovered that there is nothing on the subject directly from Emily or any of her sisters. We are left with, as I declared in the first place, a terrible story about terrible people who do terrible things to each other. Now I am compelled to add, "with a little hope at the end."
I do not believe that Emily Bronte wrote this book in order to celebrate this abusive "love". It's much in the same way that Trainspotting was not, as many moral people believed and declared loudly, a book/movie that glorifies heroine usage. Seriously, all you have to do is watch the first fifteen minutes of the movie to get that it's about the horrors of heroine usage.
All we need do is to look at who the "hero" of the book actually is; Nelly. She is our perspective through 90% of the novel (the other 10% being made up of the unnecessary Mr. Lockwood). Nelly endures the sufferings, celebrates the joys, and accurately predicts the demise of every character. She's the only one throughout who cares about the others. She's the only one who holds any hope of redemption for anyone. Even Heathcliff she calls a Goblin or a Devil from the moment she sees him as a child and still keeps hoping she can nudge him into some sort of morality.
Charlotte Bronte, in speaking of the novel after it was published...sadly after the death of Emily, stated that it was the most accurate portrayal of life in those obscure manors that were such a distance from town. Isolation from the rest of the "herd" produces these strange abuses and odd behaviors.
Once I realized that it is a critique of such people and life then it became infinitely more tolerable. Still...not tolerable enough to read again. How this book is on the top 100 of all time is still a mystery to me, but then again so is Phillip Pullman's His Dark Materials.
Thank you one and all for sticking through this lengthy process of reviewing this book. I appreciate how frustrating it must have been to wait so long between posts, but I just couldn't handle it all at once as I normally try to do them.
Next is George Orwell's 1984 which I expect will be a read that delights me. Sadly, I will only be able to get a copy sometime after the first of next month. Until then I'll be reading classic sci-fi magazines from the 60's in order to recover from this 100 Brontes on the Austen/Bronte scale...which only goes up to 10.
Pax,
W
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
A Case To Be Made (Wuthering Heights Ch 11-21)
Gentle ladies and, to a lesser extent, gentlemen of the jury, if you will indulge me, I would like to present my case.
There have been many love stories written over the eight millenia or so since human beings invented written language. From those first chicken scratch cuneiform syllables to the garish modern implementation of Comic Sans and even upon entering into the all forgiving, healing light of Helvetica there has been much debate on the subject of what does and does not constitute a love story. Certainly it can take many forms.
Some would have us believe that for a tale to truly be a love story it must end happily. Romeo and Juliet, arguably the greatest of all love stories, would then be out of the running entirely. Indeed, the modern romantic classic Possession by A. S. Byatt would only count because the modern couple gets together though the past couple does not.
I submit to you that for a love story to truly be that in name, it must actually show the protagonist couple in love and doing loving things to and for each other. At it's very base element this must be present.
I further submit, therefore, that Wuthering Heights is the furthest thing from a love story since Machiavelli's The Prince or perhaps Mein Kampf. I don't use these comparisons lightly at all. When we look at Wuthering Heights what do we see between Catherine and Heathcliff? Only passion; animalistic and self serving passion. I do believe that I could excuse the novel as merely a tawdry little work if it was just animalistic passion. Tawdry but not nearly a love story.
Seriously, though, what am I supposed to think about this Heathcliff? A brute from the moment we meet him, cast into a family of brutes and selfish prigs, who has a certain amount of passion for a beautiful, sniping, selfish, conniving...wench. All he knows is beating people into submission and all she knows is manipulating people for her own uses. Why am I supposed to cheer for this couple? At all?
I last left these people with Heathcliff having returned to find Catherine married Linton, who is now one of two people who actually seem virtuous. It seems that Linton actually loves Catherine though her standards of "passion" are clearly not met in that relationship. She teases and taunts Heathcliff with the marriage and disrespects her new husband in many respects by allowing/demanding that Heathcliff be allowed to visit whenever he likes.
Heathcliff reveals his plan to destroy Earnshaw through the son he neglects, Hareton, and then gets the bright idea to revenge himself on Linton, for marrying Catherine, by taking up with his little sister, Isabella. Catherine correctly sees what Heathcliff is up to and says, not considering for a second that the same might be said of her, "Your bliss, like his (Satan's), lies in inflicting misery." The husband overhears all, steps in, Heathcliff threatens to beat him, she says it's all his (Linton's) fault and how dare he accuse Heathcliff of being horrible...Seriously. She declares "If Edgar will be mean and jealous then I will break their hearts by breaking my own." Yes...she's intentionally going to pitch fits because her husband won't allow her to see a man who is passionately in love with her and has threatened to beat her husband bloody. And this is love? She spends the next few chapters being not so much a Drama Queen as a freaking Drama Empress. She claims she'll kill herself and it's only out of selfishness that Linton wants her around.
It's about this time that Heathcliff comes around, scoops up Isabella to elope and, as any lover would do, hangs a dog by the neck so that it should die. It would be belong to his new wife, Isabella.
When news reaches Catherine then she predictable falls into a brain fever.
This section is where I pretty much lose it. Before, at Wuthering Heights, it was terrible people doing terrible things to other terrible people. Now they are leaving a trail of broken hearts and damaged psyches in their wake because they insist on involving decent people. Linton attends to Catherine and dotes on her before, during, and after the illness. Sure, he's not the most passionate guy, I mean her prefers books to strangling puppies to death, but he cares. Isabella warmly invited Catherine into their lives and she ends up repaid with abuse, physical and mental.
Isabella writes a letter to Nelly and asks if Heathcliffe is a man. If not is he insane or a devil? Seriously, honey, if you have to ask...you're in deep Bantha poodoo. Upon Nelly pressing Heathcliff for an explanation he declares it was all Isabella's fault. Hanging up her dog, beating her, no brutality had any effect on her so he continued to be brutal.
Gosh, he's dreamy.
Catherine takes ill even more. Apparently her fake tantrums took their toll especially in light of her pregnancy (surprise) and near to giving birth Heathcliff gets wind of her illness and stands outside the house, hidden. He's lurking, waiting until the husband isn't home and the door is accidentally left unlocked. (So freaking gallant and not at all creepy!)
"Oh, Cathy! Oh, My life! how can I bear it?" he says upon forcing his way in.
"'What now?' said Catherine, leaning back and returning his look with a suddenly clouded brow: Her humour was a mere vane for constantly varying caprices. 'You and Edgar have broken my heart, Heathcliff! And you both come to bewail the deed to me, as if you were the people to be pitied...(ain't she a gem?) You have killed me-and thriven on it, I think....How many years do you mean to live after I'm gone?'"
Chapter sixteen begins with the fact of Catherine's death in childbirth...to which I could only manage to say, "Then why is there so much freaking book left?!?!".
Loving, chivalrous Heathcliff responds as anyone would expect a caring individual who just lost the love of his life would.
"May she wake in torment!...Why she's a liar to the end!...haunt me...only do not leave me in this abyss where I cannot find you!" Yeah, cause you treated each other so well when she was alive. I mean, she must be in hell not being abused by you or be able to watch you tormenting her sister in law with a freaking KNIFE shoved between her teeth (actually happened). She must be missing you something fierce.
As ever Nelly has the right of it when she says, "Treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends; they wound those who resort to them worse than their enemies."
We fast forward...Isabella escapes Heathcliff and Earnshaw to London, pregnant but more than happy to make it on her own than around those two. She gives birth and names the child Linton, hoping that will disuade Heathcliff who only declares, as a good father would, "When I want it, I will have it." Edgar Linton has named his child Catherine, after her mother, and sixteen years pass. During that time Earnshaw died leaving Heathcliff with Hareton. Isabella dies and Edgar goes off to fulfill his sister's wish of having Linton live with him. Heathcliff objects and the poor, sickly child is brought into his care. And why would he want him? One simple reason; to have the ultimate in pathetic revenges; Linton to marry Cathy and then when Linton dies, because of the language of the law, Heathcliff would rule over both estates. Of course he can't help but encourage Hareton to try for Cathy and thereby cause even more discord. It's not enough to play with and ruin the lives of adults, but now he has to destroy the lives of children.
The worst part of it all? There is still one hundred pages to go, and we already know how this ends because the beginning is the end; Heathcliff abusing both Hareton and Cathy around a fire.
I could spill all of my feelings about this book, what all it's taught me, and that sort of thing, but I think it's best left for the final entry.
I will say, however, that I got on multiple sites and read reviews for this book by many people. The one thing that amazed me was how many people think that this is such a good love story, and how amazing Heathcliff is. Seriously?
Renee commented on my last post about how there's a sort of Heathcliff arc in fiction. Edward Cullen, Four, Christian Gray and all these guys who are dark, brooding, abusive types are so lapped up by readers as so dreamy. I'd even go so far as to put Lestat in that category. I guess it's likely human nature on some level. When I was in high school who did all the girls want? That guy who was no good for them at ALL...but gosh they want them. They give their bodies and their lives to them and then when they are used up, abandoned with kids, past their "prime" they wonder where all the good guys are.
Now the interesting question, of course, is what would Charlotte Bronte think of her sister's work and does Rochester apply as the dark, brooding, abusive type?
I'll leave that to your gentle hands, dear jury, to type out into the comments below. :)
Pax,
W
There have been many love stories written over the eight millenia or so since human beings invented written language. From those first chicken scratch cuneiform syllables to the garish modern implementation of Comic Sans and even upon entering into the all forgiving, healing light of Helvetica there has been much debate on the subject of what does and does not constitute a love story. Certainly it can take many forms.
Some would have us believe that for a tale to truly be a love story it must end happily. Romeo and Juliet, arguably the greatest of all love stories, would then be out of the running entirely. Indeed, the modern romantic classic Possession by A. S. Byatt would only count because the modern couple gets together though the past couple does not.
I submit to you that for a love story to truly be that in name, it must actually show the protagonist couple in love and doing loving things to and for each other. At it's very base element this must be present.
I further submit, therefore, that Wuthering Heights is the furthest thing from a love story since Machiavelli's The Prince or perhaps Mein Kampf. I don't use these comparisons lightly at all. When we look at Wuthering Heights what do we see between Catherine and Heathcliff? Only passion; animalistic and self serving passion. I do believe that I could excuse the novel as merely a tawdry little work if it was just animalistic passion. Tawdry but not nearly a love story.
Seriously, though, what am I supposed to think about this Heathcliff? A brute from the moment we meet him, cast into a family of brutes and selfish prigs, who has a certain amount of passion for a beautiful, sniping, selfish, conniving...wench. All he knows is beating people into submission and all she knows is manipulating people for her own uses. Why am I supposed to cheer for this couple? At all?
I last left these people with Heathcliff having returned to find Catherine married Linton, who is now one of two people who actually seem virtuous. It seems that Linton actually loves Catherine though her standards of "passion" are clearly not met in that relationship. She teases and taunts Heathcliff with the marriage and disrespects her new husband in many respects by allowing/demanding that Heathcliff be allowed to visit whenever he likes.
Heathcliff reveals his plan to destroy Earnshaw through the son he neglects, Hareton, and then gets the bright idea to revenge himself on Linton, for marrying Catherine, by taking up with his little sister, Isabella. Catherine correctly sees what Heathcliff is up to and says, not considering for a second that the same might be said of her, "Your bliss, like his (Satan's), lies in inflicting misery." The husband overhears all, steps in, Heathcliff threatens to beat him, she says it's all his (Linton's) fault and how dare he accuse Heathcliff of being horrible...Seriously. She declares "If Edgar will be mean and jealous then I will break their hearts by breaking my own." Yes...she's intentionally going to pitch fits because her husband won't allow her to see a man who is passionately in love with her and has threatened to beat her husband bloody. And this is love? She spends the next few chapters being not so much a Drama Queen as a freaking Drama Empress. She claims she'll kill herself and it's only out of selfishness that Linton wants her around.
It's about this time that Heathcliff comes around, scoops up Isabella to elope and, as any lover would do, hangs a dog by the neck so that it should die. It would be belong to his new wife, Isabella.
When news reaches Catherine then she predictable falls into a brain fever.
This section is where I pretty much lose it. Before, at Wuthering Heights, it was terrible people doing terrible things to other terrible people. Now they are leaving a trail of broken hearts and damaged psyches in their wake because they insist on involving decent people. Linton attends to Catherine and dotes on her before, during, and after the illness. Sure, he's not the most passionate guy, I mean her prefers books to strangling puppies to death, but he cares. Isabella warmly invited Catherine into their lives and she ends up repaid with abuse, physical and mental.
Isabella writes a letter to Nelly and asks if Heathcliffe is a man. If not is he insane or a devil? Seriously, honey, if you have to ask...you're in deep Bantha poodoo. Upon Nelly pressing Heathcliff for an explanation he declares it was all Isabella's fault. Hanging up her dog, beating her, no brutality had any effect on her so he continued to be brutal.
Gosh, he's dreamy.
Catherine takes ill even more. Apparently her fake tantrums took their toll especially in light of her pregnancy (surprise) and near to giving birth Heathcliff gets wind of her illness and stands outside the house, hidden. He's lurking, waiting until the husband isn't home and the door is accidentally left unlocked. (So freaking gallant and not at all creepy!)
"Oh, Cathy! Oh, My life! how can I bear it?" he says upon forcing his way in.
"'What now?' said Catherine, leaning back and returning his look with a suddenly clouded brow: Her humour was a mere vane for constantly varying caprices. 'You and Edgar have broken my heart, Heathcliff! And you both come to bewail the deed to me, as if you were the people to be pitied...(ain't she a gem?) You have killed me-and thriven on it, I think....How many years do you mean to live after I'm gone?'"
Chapter sixteen begins with the fact of Catherine's death in childbirth...to which I could only manage to say, "Then why is there so much freaking book left?!?!".
Loving, chivalrous Heathcliff responds as anyone would expect a caring individual who just lost the love of his life would.
"May she wake in torment!...Why she's a liar to the end!...haunt me...only do not leave me in this abyss where I cannot find you!" Yeah, cause you treated each other so well when she was alive. I mean, she must be in hell not being abused by you or be able to watch you tormenting her sister in law with a freaking KNIFE shoved between her teeth (actually happened). She must be missing you something fierce.
As ever Nelly has the right of it when she says, "Treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends; they wound those who resort to them worse than their enemies."
We fast forward...Isabella escapes Heathcliff and Earnshaw to London, pregnant but more than happy to make it on her own than around those two. She gives birth and names the child Linton, hoping that will disuade Heathcliff who only declares, as a good father would, "When I want it, I will have it." Edgar Linton has named his child Catherine, after her mother, and sixteen years pass. During that time Earnshaw died leaving Heathcliff with Hareton. Isabella dies and Edgar goes off to fulfill his sister's wish of having Linton live with him. Heathcliff objects and the poor, sickly child is brought into his care. And why would he want him? One simple reason; to have the ultimate in pathetic revenges; Linton to marry Cathy and then when Linton dies, because of the language of the law, Heathcliff would rule over both estates. Of course he can't help but encourage Hareton to try for Cathy and thereby cause even more discord. It's not enough to play with and ruin the lives of adults, but now he has to destroy the lives of children.
The worst part of it all? There is still one hundred pages to go, and we already know how this ends because the beginning is the end; Heathcliff abusing both Hareton and Cathy around a fire.
I could spill all of my feelings about this book, what all it's taught me, and that sort of thing, but I think it's best left for the final entry.
I will say, however, that I got on multiple sites and read reviews for this book by many people. The one thing that amazed me was how many people think that this is such a good love story, and how amazing Heathcliff is. Seriously?
Renee commented on my last post about how there's a sort of Heathcliff arc in fiction. Edward Cullen, Four, Christian Gray and all these guys who are dark, brooding, abusive types are so lapped up by readers as so dreamy. I'd even go so far as to put Lestat in that category. I guess it's likely human nature on some level. When I was in high school who did all the girls want? That guy who was no good for them at ALL...but gosh they want them. They give their bodies and their lives to them and then when they are used up, abandoned with kids, past their "prime" they wonder where all the good guys are.
Now the interesting question, of course, is what would Charlotte Bronte think of her sister's work and does Rochester apply as the dark, brooding, abusive type?
I'll leave that to your gentle hands, dear jury, to type out into the comments below. :)
Pax,
W
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