Boori Ma: Truth or Lies?

After reading 'A Real Durwan,’ I’ve found Boori Ma to be one of the most interesting characters I’ve encountered this semester. Boori Ma is a refugee of the Partition of India in 1947, which was an event that had a huge impact on both the people involved as well as their descendants. In the story, Boori Ma often reminisces on her old life before the partition, mentioning marble floors and baths scattered with flower petals. She sorrowfully recalls her four daughters and husband. While the other dwellers sympathize with Boori Ma, it is clear that they are also slightly annoyed that she keeps mentioning her previous wealth. This makes sense- the apartment is a very middle-class residence, without much money for luxuries. They are also annoyed because they believe Boori Ma’s stories are complete lies—something that the reader may suspect as well.

Personally, I believe that there may be truth within her stories. Often times lies are based on a small truth, and just travel further and further away over time. As a refugee, Boori Ma very likely experienced intense emotions: sorrow over losing her belongings, home and perhaps her family. While some of the material things may have not truly existed, the emotions are definitely there.

And that’s why I don't think it matters if she's lying. Believe her, don't believe her, how much of a difference does it really make? The feelings she's experiencing are what really matter. It's similar to Tim O'Brien's war stories: a story's 'truth' is its ability to capture raw emotion. And for both O'Brien and Boori Ma, telling their stories to others (in her case, she only has the tenants as her audience) may be their own way to cope with the pain of loss.

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Maskulinity

The theme of masculinity in Diaz's stories has been brought up in class a few times, and I found it very interesting to look at what role it plays in the story "Ysrael."
One of the earliest events that stood out to me is when Yunior cries after being sexually harassed on the bus, and Rafa tells him off for crying, calling him a "pussy." While it's true that Rafa doesn't know the real reason why his brother is crying, his message is nonetheless very clear: Yunior needs to get tougher, because 'real' men don't cry.
I also wonder if Ysrael's mask is a symbol of masculinity. Or if not masculinity, a defense mechanism. I found a Latin American sport called "lucha libre", which involves two male (never female) wrestlers wearing masks. Apparently the biggest dishonor is not necessarily losing the match, but having your opponent remove your mask to reveal your face. The stealing of the mask is considered a symbol of losing your identity and masculinity.
So if we are to consider this in the context of the story, perhaps Rafa and Ysrael are the wrestlers (in the story, Ysrael is actually into wrestling). Ysrael wears a physical mask, and seems to do everything in his power to avoid others stealing his mask. While Rafa doesn't have a physical mask, he seems to put on a very 'tough' outwards appearance. Rafa is very determined to remove Ysrael's mask, in my opinion, not only because he is curious about Ysrael's injury, but also because Rafa is frustrated that Ysrael keeps evading capture by any of the boys. I feel as if Rafa is somehow determined to reveal the 'true' Ysrael whom he believes is under that mask. And of course, by taking off Ysrael's mask, Rafa seems to strip Ysrael's power as well, something that is often associated with masculinity.
And then there's Yunior. In class, we touched on the possibility that Yunior is more interested in the person behind the mask, unlike Rafa, who is interested in removing Ysrael's defense mechanism and just looking at his injuries. It definitely seems as if Yunior does not fit the typical mold of masculinity, especially in Latin American culture. This seems to be consistent in other stories involving the two brothers as well—In "Fiesta, 1980," Yunior is constantly carsick, for which his father calls him a weakling.

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How "How" Made Me Feel

The short story, "How" has become one of my favorite pieces I've read for this class so far. In a way, the style reminds me of "Pee on Water"—I feel as if I'm watching a time lapse or movie, completely engrossed in every scene and the emotion it holds. In addition, the two stories share the clear passage of time, which I think adds to the film-like feel. "Pee on Water" unconventionally tells the story of human evolution, while "How" concerns the arc of a certain relationship, over "a week, a month, a year," and how it feels like "just a series of endless tests."
In addition, both stories employ short, deliberate sentences that are extremely effective in evoking emotion within the reader (me). Some of my favorites from Moore's story include "unleash your irritation in short, staccato blasts," "apartments can shrink like drying ponds," and "lie [in bed next to each other] like sewing needles." While those phrases include vivid imagery and metaphors, there are also powerful phrases as simple as when the boyfriend tells you (?) to "have a heart." Moore seems to master the timing/placement of these snippets of conversation. While James Baldwin paints beautiful scenes with long, descriptive phrases, the frankness of both Moore and Glaser's writing (for me, at least) hits closer to home and makes it easier to see myself as a character in their stories. And as we discussed briefly in class, Moore's use of the imperative mood makes her writing feel all the more personal.
On my cover of New American Stories, there's a little spiel from Ben Marcus about the pieces in the book, describing how a good short story can affect a reader. "If they are well made," he says, "and you submit to them, they go in clean...they trigger pleasure, fear, fascination, love, confusion, desire, repulsion. The potent story writers, to me, are the ones why deploy language as a kind of contraband, pumping it into us until we collapse on the floor...overwhelmed with feeling." While "How" is not part of New American Stories I feel as if it checked all of the boxes consistent with Marcus' description. "How" immersed me in the storyline of the main character, taking me on a rollercoaster of happiness, anger and sadness. While I didn't "collapse on the floor" after I finished reading, it was one of those stories that made me stare blankly into space for a few minutes, emotionally taxed, contemplating about how intensely Moore's writing made me feel.

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Paris

Baldwin's story "This Morning, This Evening, So Soon" takes place in Paris, where the narrator, an American expatriate, and his family have lived for twelve years. They are on the verge of returning to the US for the narrator's work, and he is understandably nervous about the transition.

For the narrator, Paris is very special to him because has allowed him to "enter [his] own life." He thinks about how his relationship with his wife, a white Swedish expatriate, would not be possible in America. As the narrator describes it, "if Harriet had been born in America, it would have taken her a long time, perhaps forever, to look upon me as a man like other men; if I had met her in America, I would never be able to look on her as a women like all other women...we would never have been able to love each other. And Paul would never have been born." Besides his relationship, which is considered normal in Paris, the narrator seems to imply that Paris has allowed him to become his own individual. In the US, society attempted to define him solely by his race. This pressure is absent for him in Paris, which allows him to define himself (however, he does acknowledge that France has its own racism).

Later in the story, the narrator recounts on his visit to the US for his mother's funeral. During the ship journey, he begins to feel uneasy, noting that the Americans on board were friendly to him, but it was a friendliness that was "not intended to suggest any possibility of friendship." After tipping a waiter on board, the narrator notices a "flicker of wry sympathy" in the waiter's eyes, and another uniformed crew member refers to him as "boy." As he travels to his Alabama hometown, the narrator has a difficult time hiding his dislike for the cops and white people. He mentions that he tries to say "no sir" or "no ma'am" the 'correct' way, but never succeeds. The narrator, after spending time in Paris and gaining a broader view of the world, seems to pose more of a 'threat' to the white people in Alabama, who find that they are unable to define his place in society anymore.

The narrator eventually returns to Paris, excited to escape from American society. But I think it's important to realize that while he has physically left the US, he can never really 'escape' from America. He was born in America and will always carry his experiences with him. This becomes apparent when the narrator discusses the role of Chico he played in one of his movies. The director of the movie, Vidal, recalls how the narrator could only produce a good performance when he drew upon his rage and frustration that he experienced while living in America.

Paris has also helped the narrator to better understand his upbringing in America and where he came from. His life in Paris offers perspective on how his fellow African-Americans are treated in the US and aids him in understanding his own culture. And generally speaking, looking from the outside in can reveal things that someone might never have noticed if they were inside.

I thought this was a great story overall. I really enjoyed the contrast the author draws between Paris and the US, and how it enabled the narrator to understand his origins. Looking at Baldwin's other stories, setting always seems to play an enormous role.

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How Does Teddy Die?

(Sorry about the weird formatting)

For me, the ending of Salinger's short story "Teddy" came across as an unexpected shock. Even if the reader had picked up on earlier hints dropped by Teddy, I don't think that many people fully expected the story to end in the way it did.
But going off that, how does the story end?
Upon first glance, it seems that Teddy dies. For one, Teddy hints that something important "will either happen today or February 14, 1958 when I am sixteen." This 'thing' becomes clearer later in the story, as Teddy (oddly) explains in great detail a hypothetical situation where he dies.
"I have a swimming lesson in about five minutes. I could go downstairs to the pool, and there might not be any water in it. This might be the day they change the water or something. What might happen, though, I might walk up to the edge of it, just to have a look at the bottom, for instance, and my sister might come up and sort of push me in. I could fracture my skull and die instantaneously." 
And in that famous, ambigious closing scene, we hear piercing screams from the pool, "clearly coming from a small, female child." This seems to suggest that a) Teddy and his sister are indeed at their swimming lesson, and b) something horrifying has happened.
If we as readers believe that Teddy is truly a spiritual genius who can outsmart professors at institutions around the world, then perhaps this whole situation is more believable. Maybe Teddy can truly predict his death.

But even if we accept this ending, it raises a few, important questions. For one, is it possible that Booper  murders Teddy? If Teddy knows that he's about to die why doesn't he try and stop it?
Both are sinister and chilling to think about. Maybe Booper and Teddy's relationship is more strained than just a "sibling rivalry". Or maybe Booper is truly evil. If we believe Teddy's intellegence is real, then it really isn't a far stretch to consider that Booper is a malicious child. Or heck, maybe Booper was just predetermined to kill Teddy when she was born. As for why Teddy does not try to avoid his inevitable death, it makes the most sense to assume that he believes that death—and dying, is not a big deal. He truly thinks he will be reincarnated again.

Another explanation of the last scene is that Teddy commits suicide.
From this point of view, we regard Teddy's genius with skepticism. After all, what ten-year old truly behaves like Teddy? Perhaps Teddy is actually a very mentally disoriented child, who has conjured a whole different world in his head. If we consider the people around Teddy—his parents, Bob, and Booper—they all seem much more different and removed.
Early on in the story, Teddy complains that he was only reincarnated as an American because he could not stay focused while meditating in his earlier life. Based on this detail, it would make sense for Teddy to be frustrated and even feel trapped in his current situation. Perhaps Teddy jumps into the empty pool himself in an attempt to escape from the confinements of his American life.

One last possibility to consider is that Booper is the one who dies (I didn't consider this until someone brought it up in class). It depends how closely you want to read into the text, but the last paragraph states that the piercing female scream seems to "reverberate within the four tiled walls." Maybe Salinger literally means "within"—that Booper screams as she falls into the empty pool.

There's no doubt that Salinger keeps the ending very ambiguous. A few of his other short stories have ended similarly, causing the reader to ponder (at times, with great frustration) what has actually happened, and what will happen.

How do you guys read the ending of "Teddy"?

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Phony People

Since we've started reading Salinger's short stories, I can't help but notice great similarities between them and Salinger's most known work, Catcher in the Rye. Some stories seem to bear an uncanny resemblance. Others not so much, but still carry over certain elements from Catcher. I think Uncle Wiggily in Connecticut is a story that's trademark of Salinger's style. In the piece, he seems to focus a lot on contrasting the phony (hi there Holden) world with an idealized, youthful and innocent one—something that's also a recurring theme in his writing.

In Uncle Wiggily, I think we can safely view Connecticut as the "phony world"—full of fake, materialistic individuals who are concerned about superficialities. In the very beginning, we start to get hints that Eloise is an middle-upper class— if not upper class—woman. She has a camel-hair coat. Her bookcases are "heavily stocked." And of course, she has a maid named Grace. From these details alone, the reader starts to get the impression that Salinger might not be fond of such a lifestyle. In addition, take A Perfect Day for Bananafish as an example. Muriel is portrayed rather negatively as an high class woman who's too naive and preoccupied with fashion to see that something might be wrong with Seymour.
Eloise herself also seems to be rather phony. For one, she didn't marry Lew out of love. When asked about their marriage, Eloise just shrugs and says that Lew liked Jane Austen (which turns out to be a lie). But there are also hints she married Lew for financial security and comfort.
Lew is pretty phony. He lies about his favorite authors and seems to be a stereotypical working husband with a high salary.
Mary Jane, in my opinion, seems to be the most phony. The dramatic way she talks and cackles with laughter seems to be performed, rather than genuine. Salinger seems to suggest that Mary Jane is younger and lacks experience compared to Eloise, as we discussed in class. In my opinion, it just makes her seem immature.
Especially in comparison to Ramona, who in contrast appears to be wise beyond her own years. Ramona doesn't react to Mary Jane's childish conversation and seems to speak very matter-of-factly. When Jimmy "dies," Ramona is able to move on very quickly and conjure Mickey.
Ramona, along with Walt, both seem to represent the youth and innocence that stands in stark contrast to the phoniness of Connecticut and the other characters. In fact, the title itself, Uncle Wiggily in Connecticut, seems to be an oxymoron.

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Beauty, Gore and Death

There's no denying that war is gory. It's ugly. It's dirty and often not as glorious as one might expect (take the shit field where Kiowa passed, for example). Indeed, "war is hell."
But can it be beautiful as well?
In the stories we've read so far from Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried, there have undoubtedly been showcases of the horrors of war, both physical and emotional. Yet every death or other incident is accompanied by a sort of beauty as well.
Take the story of Curt Lemon, who is killed after stepping on a land mine. His death is first told in an almost poetic manner, with O'Brien describing the seemingly tranquil landscape—the white flowers, the sunlight dancing through the leaves, and the surrounding mountains. Then, Lemon's face appears in the sunlight, shining, and suddenly, he "soars" into the tree.
Lemon's story made me do a double take, and I had to reread the section to fully acknowledge that he had died. It was certaintly not what I had pictured a death by land mine to be like. As O'Brien puts it a second time, "when he died it was almost beautiful, the way the sunlight came around him and lifted him up and sucked him high into a tree full of moss and vines and white blossoms."
Later, we get another, more technical and gory version of the story, where "the booby-trapped 105 round blew him [Lemon] into a tree." O'Brien and Dave Jensen were tasked with peeling the body parts off the tree and throwing them down—the white bone of an arm, wet yellow pieces of intestines.
There's also the man that O'Brien killed, described as having a 'star-shaped hole' where his eye should have been, the jaw in his throat, and half his mouth blown away. Yet this description stands in sharp contrast to the other things O'Brien notices about the man: the smooth, undamaged nose and right cheek, his shapely hands and clean fingernails. Notably, we receive descriptions of nature once more. The dead man's head lays among a blanket of blue blossoms, and a butterfly momentarily rests on his chin.
For me, war and beauty have always seemed to be worlds away from each other, especially when you consider the gory nature of fighting. But O'Brien seems to find a middle ground in his writing, where the two are free to intermingle. "War is grotesque, but in truth, war is also beauty. For all its horror, you can’t help but gape at the awful majesty of combat."
Because O'Brien has stated that he is intent on capturing the emotion in war, it is easier for me to try and picture the beauty he describes. Perhaps, in his shoes as a soldier, there is something beautiful about seeing how powerful war can be, and how death can occur so quickly, to anyone. It may even make him value his own life more.
I also think that O'Brien intends to tell us that despite war and death, life keeps moving. Butterflies still fly, sunlight is still reflected off the dead man's ammunition belt. Flowers blossom among pools of blood. Death does not change the world around O'Brien and his soldiers—they're still stuck in Vietnam, in some cases in a shit field. But they too, must eventually cope and move on with their grief.
By writing stories that highlight both the gore and beauty of war, that's exactly what O'Brien is attempting to do.

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Ick

In recent class discussions, we’ve touched upon the rather unsettling stories of Ruth and her father—from both Ruth and Macon’s respective viewpoints. Macon paints a very graphic picture to the reader: his wife lying naked next to her father’s dead body, with Dr. Foster’s fingers in her mouth, among other disturbing events. Understandably, both Milkman and the reader are revolted. The story even seems too be too ludicrous to be true. In class, we discussed how Macon and Ruth are constantly trying to bring Milkman closer to one of them, and how Macon might be using this story to induce hateful feelings in Milkman towards his mother. 

A few chapters later however, as Milkman follows his mother to Dr. Foster’s grave, we are given the opportunity to hear Ruth’s side of the story. Ruth bases her story around the fact that she is a “small woman”, someone who was greatly deprived of intimacy and companionship after she married Macon. The one person who truly cared about her was her father, and thus, when he died, Ruth “kissed” his delicate fingers. She began visiting his grave on a regular basis, seeing him as the only person she could talk to. Ruth also paints a rather horrible picture of Macon; someone who both killed Dr. Foster and tried to kill Milkman himself. Again, as readers, we question the validity of her story—who is right?

For a while, I tended to believe Ruth more. Her story was understandable, based on how Macon interacted with her, and I definitely felt sympathetic. It was clear to me that from a young age, Ruth had always admired her father and felt a deep connection to him. There’s also the fact that Ruth had no idea Milkman was following her; she wouldn’t really have time to orchestrate an elaborate lie. 

However, things changed after I revisited Chapter 1. In the first handful of pages of the novel, Macon recalls the first time he met Dr. Foster, asking if he could “keep” Ruth from time to time. Dr. Foster agrees. Interestingly, the narrator (Morrison, not Milkman or Macon) adds that Dr. Foster was secretly glad that Ruth might be married to Macon. 

“Fond as he was of his only child…lately he had begun to chafe under her devotion. Her steady beam of love was unsettling, and she had never dropped those expressions of affection that had been so lovable in her childhood…at sixteen she still insisted on having him come to her at night. Sit on her bed, exchange a few pleasantries, and plant a kiss on her lips. Perhaps it was the loud silence of his dead wife, perhaps it was Ruth’s disturbing resemblance to her mother. More probably it was the ecstasy that always seemed to be shining in Ruth’s face when he bent to kiss her—an ecstasy he felt inappropriate to the occasion.”

After reading the above quote, I was taken aback. I had totally forgotten about this section in Chapter 1, and rereading it completely changed my idea of Ruth being completely truthful. I also think this makes the story all the more complex. Perhaps there were some incestuous feelings directed from Ruth to her father. That makes the scene of her lying next to the dead Dr. Foster more believable. We also learn that although Macon hated Dr. Foster, Dr. Foster knew Macon well and thought he was a decent young man. I once believed that Dr. Foster was fostering (haha) an inappropriate relationship with Ruth, but now I feel as if it was much more one sided—he seemed to be very uncomfortable with Ruth’s behavior as she grew older. Although I still sympathize with Ruth’s loneliness and abusive relationship with Macon, she clearly left things out in her story to Milkman. Yes, she might visit her father’s grave because he was the only one who cared about her, but there may be other reasons as well.

In the end though, I’m honestly not sure how much all of this matters. Ruth and Macon have been pointing fingers at each other for years, and it’s very clear that their relationship is nearly impossible to mend. In fact, all of these twisted stories prove how little communication lies between them. But as a reader, I find it very interesting that Morrison included the detail about Dr. Foster in chapter 1 from a narrator’s perspective, rather than one of the main characters’. The passage definitely made me reconsider my own opinions and alliances.

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Betrayal and the Crowing Cock

In Wide Sargasso Sea, one detail that keeps popping up is the cock/rooster crowing. In one instance, Antoinette seems to specifically state that the rooster’s call impends betrayal. “But who is the traitor?” she questions. It becomes clear that the traitor in that instance is Amelie, who betrays Antoinette and sleeps with Rochester. Their encounter is arguably the last straw for Antoinette, who immediately leaves to meet Christophine. Later, after Antoinette's return, she grills Rochester over the affair, telling him that he’s no better than the old slave owners.

I was also curious to see whether the rooster’s crow signaled impending doom in other parts of the novel. Shortly after Antoinette and Rochester arrive in the island, Rochester mentions how he had to listen to “cocks crow all night”. As they explore the landscape the next day, Rochester feels uncomfortable, overwhelmed by the size and color; “too much blue, too much purple, too much green”. But perhaps the most telling is Rochester’s reaction to their temporary house, calling it “more awkward than ugly, a little sad as if it knew it could not last”. Here, we are provided with an ominous reference to Antoinette and Rochester’s eventual fate. In addition, the cocks crowing every night seem to strengthen this idea that from the start, their relationship would end in some sort of betrayal.

The last instance of the rooster’s call seems to be the most chilling. By this point in the novel, Rochester has transformed into a near madman-- to destroy Antoniette, he plans to take her back to Jamaica, and then England. He begins to write a letter to the lawyers in Spanish Town, requesting to rent a large house with separate suites, and servants who he would pay very liberally if they keep quiet about Antionette. The entire time that Rochester writes the letter, a cock crows persistently outside. Rochester is clearly annoyed and even throws a book at the animal, but the cock just moves further away and begins to crow again. This seems to indicate Rochester’s final--and worst-- betrayal: taking Antoinette away from the places she so dearly loves.

Upon further research, I also discovered that the image of a crowing cock is often used in literature as a symbol of Peter’s betrayal of Christ:  “I tell thee, Peter, the cock shall not crow this day before that thou shalt thrice deny that thou knowest me’, (the Bible, Luke 22:33). Thus, it makes a lot of sense how Rhys employed this image in her novel. Although there’s a feeling of unease throughout the entire novel, I think the crowing cock image was interesting to explore. We mentioned in class (earlier in the book, before Rochester goes crazy) that there might be a sliver of hope for Antoinette and Rochester’s relationship. There’s no denying that there are a few scarce moments of tenderness: when he buries his face in her hair, or admires her white dress. But I feel as if the rooster really drives home the point that despite these moments, Rochester and Antoinette were doomed from the moment they arrived in the islands.

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Is Meursault Indifferent?

I think in general, the ending of The Stranger is pretty satisfying. Throughout the whole novel, emotions and everything are kind of pent up. Meursault finally seems to release everything in his long rant to the chaplain towards the end of the novel, and it definitely made me feel relieved. I guess you could think of it as a flood, slowly pushing against a wall, and it finally breaks through. In addition, afterwards, there is the sense of some “calm after the storm” when Meursault talks about the stars, the salt air and the “wondrous peace”.

Despite all of this, there’s some part of me that’s not satisfied. I still have questions about Meursault that I feel like were not answered.

First, he talks about the gentle indifference of the world, and how it feels like a brother to him. For me, this phrase suggests quite clearly that Meursault recognizes his own indifference towards things in his life— especially the consequences of his actions. I don’t think we should be surprised by this at all— his actions throughout the book, his line about “to shoot or not to shoot” all reflect his attitude.

But here’s the thing that confuses me a little. Prior to his execution, Meursault feels disappointed once he realizes that there will be no scaffold to climb, as if he wished the execution was more grand and dramatic. His last line in the book seems consistent with this idea as well. Meursault hopes that there is “a large crowd of spectators the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate”. These thoughts seem to suggest that Meursault almost wants to be acknowledged for his idiosyncrasies. I think he recognizes that most people do not think or act in the same manner he does. Cheers of hate would validate that his ideas and attitude are at odds with society.

If this were confirmed, I think it would make death easier to cope with for Meursault. He can die knowing that he was sentenced because of his own philosophy, not necessarily because he killed a man. Maybe there’s some triumph in that acknowledgement.

However, I feel as if these two things are at odds with each other. On the one hand, Meursault describes himself as “indifferent”, but on the other, he seems to care about who wins the moral (?) battle in the end (what they are killing him for). So I don’t exactly know what to make of Meursault’s character at the end of the novel.

I had a decent amount of trouble fleshing out some of my ideas as I wrote this, but hopefully it makes at least some sense. How did you guys interpret the last few pages of the novel?

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Who Killed Gregor?

Gregor dies at the conclusion of The Metamorphosis. At first, I thought his death was underwhelming in a way. Kafka opens the book by dramatically proclaiming that Gregor had been transformed into a giant insect. It was so absurd that for the first few pages, I wondered if it was only a nightmare. Based on the striking beginning, I initially expected Gregor to go out with a bang.
But, as we read, he dies peacefully in his room, shortly after dawn. His death is only really described in one paragraph. I think the nature of his death reflects what we've been talking about in class; how Gregor is reduced from the breadwinner to nothing more but a nuisance. His death seems almost emotionally insignificant to the family, which reflects how they have lost most, if not all sympathy for Gregor.
In contrast, as Gregor has slowly become this dependent creature, the rest of his family members have each becoming working, contributing members to society. So there's sort of a cycle, or reversal of roles.
I found the last part extremely sad to read. It made me dislike Gregor's family quite a bit. I guess I had a faint dislike for them ever since the beginning, where we saw Gregor groveling at his manager's feet while Gregor's dad was lazily enjoying his giant breakfast. I really disliked the fact that although the father was in debt, the whole family pushed the responsibility onto Gregor. Maybe I don't understand enough about family dynamics during the time period, but it seemed extremely unfair. It also made the family look a little pathetic.
The worst part to read was at the end, when Gregor's family had clearly lost all sympathy for him and decided it best to get rid of him somehow, and Gregor agrees. As he dies, all he thinks about is how he "must disappear", for the sake of his family. Despite how badly he has been treated by the family, especially by his father, Gregor still seems to be loyal and still has their best interests in mind.
This makes me wonder if he in a way, committed suicide. I know it's a bold statement, but by the end, Gregor was quite determined to die, to disappear. Perhaps he willingly lost the will to live (if that makes sense). In addition, most people who commit suicide do it because they feel as if they are a burden on family and friends. Gregor clearly feels this way.
Another way you could see it is that his family killed him. One huge blow was his father's apple throwing. Another was the lack of suitable food. It's possible that Gregor felt like he had no choice but to die, especially considering how weak he was due to his family's neglect.
No matter how you interpret Gregor's death, it's definitely a somber ending to an adventurous story.

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Brett Relies on Men

Some of the discussions and panel presentations as of late have brought up the idea that Brett embodies the image of "The New Woman". I think this is true, to some extent. Brett's heavy drinking, smoking, short hair and androgynous clothing suggest that she tries to distance herself from traditional feminine stereotypes. It also seems that all the men in the novel are constantly vying for Brett's attention.

But I believe that Brett, in the end, is as dependent on men as they seem to be dependent on her. Brett relies on them both financially and socially. One example is after her break up with Romero, where she sends a distressing telegram to Jake that says she is trouble. She later confesses that she has run out of money. Is it possible that Brett sent for Jake mainly so he could bail her out of Madrid? On one hand, it's kind of sad to think about, but I think it's plausible. 

In addition, Brett has never truly been alone throughout the course of the book. She was always with the Count, Cohn, Jake, Mike or Romero. It's possible that Brett needed these men in her life partially for financial support, but also partially to exert her dominance. We see Brett toy with the emotions of the men throughout the novel. We could debate about whether or not it's intentional, but in the end, her flirtatious manner is a huge part of Brett's character either way. It's a very 'Brett' thing to do. 

Because Brett is so used to interacting with men in that certain manner, it's odd that Brett is so emotional after her break up with Romero. When she leaves Mike for Romero, Brett doesn't think twice about Mike. But as Brett tells her breakup story to Jake, she is visibly shaken and lacks her usual self control. She tells Jake that they should stop talking about Romero, but Brett herself keeps mentioning his age, birthday, and language skills, among other things. In addition, Brett says that Romero was "ashamed of [her] for a while", but eventually got over it. However, a few lines later, Brett undermines herself by mentioning that Romero "would have gotten used to" her appearance later. The word "would" suggests that Romero was still disapproving of Brett towards the end of their relationship. These details seem to suggest Romero broke up with Brett, instead of the other way around.

This brings me back to Brett's need to asset her dominance over men. When Romero takes the position of power in the relationship, Brett is completely shaken. I highly doubt any man would have broken up with her before Romero (possibly) did, so rejection is a foreign feeling to Brett. In the end, Brett seems to realize that she cannot function alone. Thus, she immediately calls Jake to provide her with financial and emotional support, displaying how much Brett relies on the men in her life.

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Fear no more the heat of the sun

The saying "fear no more the heat of the sun" comes up repeatedly at various points in the novel, both from Clarissa and Septimus' points of view. After a little bit of research, I discovered that the quote is from Shakespeare's Cymbeline, and it is said as part of a funeral song in the play.
In Mrs. Dalloway, Clarissa first encounters the quote through a shop window that displays an open book. At first, this quote may seem confusing or unimportant. We have just met Clarissa and are beginning to learn more about her personality. However, if you look at the quote from the broader scope of the novel as a whole, it is very telling. Right before she sees the book, Clarissa thinks about death. She asks if it mattered that "she must inevitably cease completely", and asks "did it not become consoling to believe that death ended absolutely?" Clarissa, until the end of the novel, seems to fear death. Or, on the contrary, she seems to enjoy life thoroughly, saying "what she [Clarissa] loved was this, here, now, in front of her". Clarissa seems to find comfort in reading the words, "fear no more the heat of the sun" especially in the face of adversary.
Another similar instance occurs when Clarissa is disappointed after hearing that Lady Bruton has asked Richard to lunch. Lady Bruton is someone Clarissa looks up to, and she wasn't invited to Lady Bruton's lunch. Again, Clarissa looks to Shakespeare for comfort, repeating the line from Cymbeline. We also return to the image of death as Clarissa describes herself as feeling "suddenly shrivelled, aged and breastless" and notes her failing "body and brain", both of which are direct results of Clarissa not being invited.
Similarly, Septimus refers to this line of Shakespeare for a sense of comfort. As Rezia makes hats, the frightening images he sees, such as the dogs barking, fade "far away on shore". Septimus can finally relax, and "fear no more", as he relishes the golden beauty of nature in that moment. However, a mere few pages later, he commits suicide. Perhaps "fear no more" was not referring to Septimus' suicide directly, but Woolf seems to constantly put Shakespeare's quote in proximity to death imagery.
The last instance occurs near the end of Clarissa's party. She contemplates Septimus' death in a separate room and then watches the old woman go up to bed and turn off the light. Besides the obvious presence of Septimus' death, I think Woolf created additional death imagery with the old woman. She closes the blinds and turns off the light, and Clarissa watches her intently, saying "fear no more".  It seems that Septimus' death and the old woman have provided Clarissa a frame of reference to what life is, and she accepts the fact that she will die one day. The line also gives her the courage to face her past (literally), despite her regrets about it, and return to Sally and Peter.

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Clarissa and Septimus

As we progress further into the novel, Woolf dives deeper into Septimus' thoughts, as well as providing a background story and further insight into his character. After reading these new sections, I think that quite a few parallels are emerging between Septimus and Clarissa.

The first hint of a connection between the two is when Woolf introduces the "beak-nosed" Septimus as a character. Clarissa was also described as beak-nosed, back in the first chapter. Because "beak-nosed" is quite a specific description, as opposed to just saying "pointed nose" or "large eyes" (features that number of people might share), it seems that Woolf is intentionally connecting the two in terms of physical description.

More important are the numerous parallels between their ways of thinking and attitudes towards the world and humanity itself. We know that Clarissa, for the most part, thoroughly enjoys life. She breathes in the bustling streets of London, and finds beauty in things such as the early morning sky and bunches of carnations and arum lilies. I would argue that Septimus is also able to find his own instances of beauty amidst his mental illness. Although strange to the reader, tears fill Septimus' eyes as he looks up at the plane, "this beauty, this exquisite beauty" (21).

In addition, both Clarissa and Septimus are readers, specifically readers of Shakespeare. In the first chapter, we see Clarissa reading a page from Cymbeline through a shop window. For Septimus, reading Anthony and Cleopatra before the war had a profound impact on him. Much like Clarissa describing Sally's kiss as "the most exquisite moment of her whole life", Septimus describes Shakespeare's work as lighting in him "such a fire as burns only one in a lifetime". I believe these details might be important in the broader narrative due to the reactions both characters received from others for reading Shakespeare. For example, Clarissa's husband, Richard, says Shakespeare's sonnets should never be read because it is similar to listening in on one's conversation through a keyhole. Sir William, who self-proclaims that he "never had time for reading", has some kind of "grudge" against Septimus and looks down upon his character. Perhaps both Richard and Sir William are stifling the true Clarissa and Septimus, respectively, and causing them to conform (intentional or not) to society instead.

I suspect that Woolf created Clarissa and Septimus to be reflections of each other. She puts them in the same city, London, but also in two very different worlds. Clarissa's biggest problems pale in comparison to Septimus' horrendous experiences. But they share other things, like their love of reading and their opinions on the stifling constraints of humanity, for example. I think Woolf might have done this to draw attention to the huge contrast between the different social classes in London at the time. Two people who are very similar at heart, but whose circumstances result in vastly different experiences.

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Isn't it funny? The way the mind works?

The sense of closure is very strong in Sag Harbor, especially compared to the other novels we've read this semester. In Catcher in the Rye, it was tough to tell if Holden had actually grown as a person by the time the novel ends. For both Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and The Bell Jar, it was understood that both Stephen and Esther were about to open a new chapter in their lives. However, we are left in vague about how the future will fare for each of them.

In Sag Harbor, Ben very lays out a detailed plan for his new school year. He's going to reform his wardrobe, and "make out with three girls a semester". He's also going to be turning sixteen, which will allow him to attend more concerts and parties. As Ben puts it, "It was going to be a great year".
I find it interesting (and kind of cute) that Ben "[is] sure of it". I got the image of a boy standing up straight and taking a deep breath, ready to conquer whatever was thrown his way. A pretty firm image to end upon. No loose strings are left untied in this ending. Ben has gotten a job, kissed a girl, picked out a "little Benji" and it is understood that this chapter of his life, coming out to Sag Harbor, is coming to a close.

But the thing is, the novel doesn't end exactly there. Instead, Whitehead, shifting to present tense, makes the last sentence, "Isn't it funny? The way the mind works?"

It's a very interesting phrase to end on. For me, the fact that it's in present tense makes me think that future Benji is sort of chuckling at old Ben for being so idealistic. I don't really know what this implies. Maybe his school year turned out a lot differently than he initially thought? Or maybe he's commenting on how expectations in general are overrated? Or maybe that's not his intention at all.

Either way, the strong sense of closure I felt during this chapter felt sort of undermined by this last sentence. If I'm following my interpretation, it makes for an uneasy ending. The plan Ben described sounds like it would make for a pretty good year. But maybe the last sentence is indication he had a much crappier year than expected.

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Emotional Roller Coaster

The last two chapters of Black Swan Green were definitely quite intense. You have Jason's pent up frustration finally release. We see his inner "smart ass" come out. He has his first kiss. But while all of this is happening, his family is falling apart.
These sections were my favorite part of the whole book. It's very action packed, and as I read, I could vividly imagine everything playing out in a movie. In addition, I think by this point in the book we know Jason very well. We have experienced his insecurities and internal struggles over popularity and ethics. We know how he idolizes his sister, Julia. We've seen both compassionate and asshole versions of Jason (when he brushes off Dean repeatedly as a moron). Since we've basically befriended Jason, we can't help but let out a satisfactory grin when the calculator is crushed. We smile at Jason's exchange with Ms. Lippetts, banter that almost resembles Julia's rhetoric. I couldn't help but feel proud as Jason finds a girl to share his first kiss with- someone who wasn't Dawn Madden. And I felt heartbroken as Jason's dad struggled to explain that he was getting divorced.
Besides the emotions, I felt like there was closure in these two chapters, which I enjoyed. The fact that Jason was finally brave enough to expose his bullies after all this time was extremely satisfying to read. And of course, replacing Dawn with Holly. I think the title, January Man, really brings home the idea of coming full circle.
But I think with this sense of closure comes a new beginning, similar to novels (most notably) like The Bell Jar  or Joyce's Portrait. Esther steps over the threshold of the door, her future uncertain. Stephen leaves Ireland to pursue something extremely unpredictable. For Jason, the same type of feeling is present. Who knows if there will be bullies at his new school? How will he deal with his new stepmother? Will he find new friends? Although I hope that Jason's experiences will make him well-equipped for the future, you never know.

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Sylvie vs Luna Lovegood

Something that really struck me were the parallels between Sylvie in Housekeeping, and Luna Lovegood from the Harry Potter series (If you've read Harry Potter previously, you may be already drawing connections between the two). Although the chance that J.K. Rowling actually based Luna on Sylvie is near impossible, the two characters are remarkably alike.

If I tried to write about their numerous similarities it would get awfully repetitive, so I made a table:

Sylvie Fisher	Luna Lovegood
Likes to spend time amongst nature. For example, she doesn't sweep the leaves into the corner of her house because she doesn't want to disturb nature. She doesn’t mind the rodents, birds and insects that later inhabit the dilapidated house.	In the 5th movie, Luna is seen bringing apples to the thestrals in the Forbidden Forest, all while barefoot. In fact, Luna goes on in her adult career to become the wizarding equivalent of a naturalist, called a magizoologist.
Sylvie doesn’t mind the rain seeping through her shoes. In fact, she kind of enjoys it. She buys garish jeweled slippers for Ruth and Lucille. One Lucille realizes that the slippers aren’t particularly stylish by society standards, she rips the sequins off.	Luna owns a pink-strawberry printed pair of sneakers, which her classmates hid from her. Thus, for most of the year, she walks barefoot through the halls and outside. In the movie, she doesn’t seem very upset about it.
Expanding on Sylvie’s style, she arrives in Fingerbone wearing a green dress made of silk, complete with an ornate brooch of lilies.	Luna is well known for her odd sense of style. At a wedding, she shows up in bold yellow dress robes, complete with a sunflower in her hair. Luna also regularly wears radish earrings, a beetle ring, pink glasses with one red and one blue lens, and a necklace made of a Butterbeer cork.
Sylvie is a non-conformist by definition. Her idea friends are people who she has just met for mere hours. She does not eating with the lights on. She doesn’t keep the house tidy and often snacks on crackers stored in her coat pockets. Nearly everything about Sylvie’s lifestyle is the opposite of “normal”.	Ravenclaw prizes originality, creativity and individualism. Luna embodies these characteristics. She is well known for reading the Quibbler, her dad’s magazine, upside down. She also keeps onions in her purse, to ward off vampires. Luna’s often described as “bizarre” in the series by other characters.
Standing out in the crowd doesn’t come without judgement, however. In Housekeeping, almost all of Fingerbone whispers about the weird woman who is Sylvie. She is stared at nearly everywhere she goes. Soon, Lucille finds herself unable to live with such a non-conformist. The residents start to question Sylvie’s parenting abilities and turn their noses at the condition of her house. Sylvie doesn’t really mind all the attention until the close of chapter 9.	Luna is often referred to as “Loony Lovegood” for her eccentric appearance and behavior. As mentioned above, she was the frequent victim of stealing and hiding. For the most part, she was unfazed by all the rumors about her and instead chose to be non judgemental and quite accepting of the people around her.
Probably the hardest but most important characteristic to describe is the lofty, carefree manner in which Sylvie conducts herself. She remains calm under all circumstances, including the flooding. She doesn’t mind walking in damp clothes. Sometimes Sylvie, known for being remote, becomes lost in her own thoughts and doesn’t reply when her name is called.	Luna is also characterized by her dreamy and distant demeanor. When faced with an uninteresting conversation, she often drifts away. Luna has no trouble spending time alone with her thoughts. Although Harry, Ron and Hermione find her bizarre, they eventually become quite fond of her, just as Ruth becomes fond of Sylvie and her mannerisms.
Personally, I think Sylvie comes across as intelligent, in her own unique way. Although she does seem detached, I feel as if all her actions and words are very deliberate.	Luna is also smart (Ravenclaw), but not in the same way as say, Hermione is. She loves learning about odd things, and doesn’t care if it had a logical, practical application or not. She doesn’t care if people things she’s nuts or wasting her time. Instead, she wants to know things simply because they are there to know: she values knowledge for its own sake.

Imagining Sylvie as Luna had actually made the book come to life for me. Although there are lots of similarities between the two, there are also differences, which I didn't really address. As we come to the end of the book, I'm looking forward to see how Sylvie deals with some serious judgement coming her way.

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Forgetting About Pain vs Easing it

In The Bell Jar, one scene that stuck me as interesting was when Esther views childbirth for the first time and is particularly shocked by the medicine given to the woman on the table that knocks her out completely. The birth clearly has a large emotional effect on Esther, considering how vividly she remembers it. I wonder if it might be parallel to Esther's dislike towards men.
Probably the most recognizable example would be Buddy: the fact that Buddy might be delivering babies and giving out doses of the medicine in the future scares Esther, as she scarred by seeing the birth.  Buddy also says in a very "sinister, knowing way" that maybe when Esther is married she will not want to write poems anymore. This causes Esther to think about marriage and childbirth as equivalent to being "brainwashed" and becoming "numb as a slave in some private totalitarian state".
Another person who is very similar to Buddy is Dr. Gordon. Esther describes him as having "nearly perfect" features but immediately distrusts him. Esther's instincts about Dr. Gordon turns out to be fairly accurate. He makes her go through shock therapy, something Esther describes as a horrible "punishment".
Besides being similar in profession, both men attempt to (or believe in) make their patients forget pain, rather than help them work through it. The woman during childbirth was "given a drug that would make her forget". To Esther, it is "just like the sort of drug a man would invent". Although the drug would make her forget how bad the pain had been, a "windowless corridor of pain was waiting to open up and shut her in again".
This scene is almost mirrored during Esther's shock treatment, in which Dr. Gordon attempts to make Esther forget about her pain through electrotherapy. The woman giving birth was on some sort of "awful torture table, with these metal stirrups sticking up in mid-air at one end and all sorts of instruments and wires and tubes". The bed that Esther lays on is creepily similar, a "table on wheels with a machine on it" and is given wires to bite. The woman, despite having been given 'treatment' or medicine, was "in terrible pain, obviously feeling every bit of it". Esther also feels every bit of the shock treatment, thinking that with each jolt, her "bones would break".
In addition, I think the quote about the woman waiting for a "corridor of pain" to "shut her in again" is very similar to how Esther feels as if she is trapped in a bell jar. Although many people, including even her mother, try to make Esther numb towards her pain, she is trapped underneath a fog of pain that constantly returns.

After thought: The fact that Esther trusts Doctor Nolan is also telling about Esther's attitudes towards different genders. ALSO Esther's thoughts on double standards concerning chastity further hints at that.

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Holden's Hunting Hat

One interesting detail in The Catcher in the Rye that I’ve noticed is how often Holden will mention his unique hunting hat. As you may recall, he first obtained the red hunting hat for a dollar after leaving all the fencing team’s equipment on the subway. Even Holden admits it’s “corny” when he wears it with the peak in the back but he “likes it that way”. The hunting hat is an interesting item to consider because it’s sort of an inconsistent symbol, if it is at all. At first, I was inclined to think that the hunting hat, being so gaudy, represented how Holden knew he was different from everyone else and wanted to show it. But after looking for passages with mentions of the hat, it becomes unclear.Sometimes Holden seems proud, wearing his hat. He mentions multiple times that he really “got a bang” out of wearing it. He carries the hat everywhere he goes, and Holden seems incomplete without it. After Holden gets beaten by Stradlater, he searches for his “goddamn hunting hat”, making the two seem nearly inseparable. At other times though, Holden seems to be ashamed of wearing the hat. He usually takes it off in public, like when he was riding on the train or checking into the hotel. Holden acknowledges the hat makes him look like a “screwball”.

These two conflicting things make it harder to identify whether the hunting hat is symbolic of Holden’s identity and attitudes towards other people. For me, this aspect of the hat is inconclusive. However, I did notice that Holden always removes his hat in the presence of other adults, which brings me to my next point.

It may be that the hunting hat symbolizes Holden’s attachment to childhood. After all, most adults wouldn’t be caught wearing such an odd hat. Holden knows this and therefore takes his hat off around them. On the other hand, Holden puts on the hat at specific times, such as when he was writing about Allie’s baseball mitt, and when he leaves Pencey. He also puts on the hat after getting beaten by Stradlater, imagining himself himself as a tough hero covered in blood. To me, that symbolizes Holden’s desire to cling onto his childhood, which is as unrealistic as his ideal vision of the “tough Holden” in the mirror.

We also discussed the “catcher in the rye” scene in class, talking about how Holden wants to protect the other children from falling off the cliff, which could symbolize falling into adulthood. If we believe this to be true (which I think it is), then this further strengthens the argument of the hunting hat representing Holden’s own attachment to his childhood.

In the last scene, as he watches Phoebe ride the carousel, it starts to rain. Holden mentions that “My hunting hat really gave me quite a lot of protection, in a way, but I got soaked anyway”. I thought of this symbolizing Holden sort of coming to terms with his age. He can dream as much as he wants about the idealized world and childhood, but in the end, he cannot avoid the fact that he will grow up. It is inevitable.

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Good vs likeable

I met Holden yesterday, and I didn't really enjoy the encounter. He seems like the entitled white boy, accompanied by a lot of teenage angst. His language is rather crude, speaking in short frank sentences loaded with unnecessary curse words.He seemed to make it his mission to find some fault with everything and everyone he encountered. Holden seemed extremely indifferent- he didn’t seem to care about his fencing team or his grades, and threw the word moron around without a care in the world. What irritated me most was probably this aura of superiority I felt surrounded him. He constantly called other people phonies, which seemed pretty obnoxious. Who even asked for Holden’s opinion in the first place? Why do people even want to be liked by Holden? I definitely did not find him likeable.

But is he a good person?
Now that we've read more into the book, I will definitely say he is good at heart. The way he protects Jane, the girl from his childhood, and Phoebe, his sister, is almost (excuse me for my lack of refined words) cute, in a puppy-eyed kind of manner. Jane is constantly on Holden's mind, and his musings of Jane seem different from Holden's thoughts of anyone else. Whenever Holden thinks of Jane, he fondly recalls childhood memories, such as the way she looked when she got excited about things, or the time they went golfing and Jane lost eight balls. On the contrary, Holden constantly judges other people on a surface level- literally. He emphasizes Ackley's pimply face, and Stradlater's impressive physique. Although Holden briefly mentions Jane's appearance on not being "strictly beautiful", he still focuses on experience. Holden even mentions that he got to know Jane "quite intimately", but not by means of sex. For me, this display of affection stands out in stark contrast to Holden's indifference towards nearly everything else, and makes me think that he actually has a heart.
Another thing we might explore is Holden's affinity of calling things "phony". As I mentioned earlier, I initially looked at it as Holden being unreasonably bitter. Yet after getting a glimpse into Holden's protective side, using the word "phony" might be Holden's way to protect his own pride.
We know that Holden, like Stephen Dedalus, is a loner. He sits alone at the football game and doesn't seem to connect with many people. Everyone who rejects or offends Holden in some manner is bound to be a phony. Whether it be the girls in the Lavender Room or Ackley in his own room, they're all phonies to Holden.
I feel as if that is Holden's defense mechanism- he might be trying to make himself feel better when he's rejected. So what if the girls make him pay for their drinks? They're phonies. He tries to convince himself that he's high and lofty and out of their league, instead of facing the fact that he is lonely.
The first chink I saw in Holden's armor was the affection he displayed towards certain people. For someone who doesn't give a single shit about a lot of things, it was a bit surprising. These observations bring me to say that Holden is good, but not likeable. His defense mechanism of finding fault in others doesn't really scream, "I'm a nice, friendly person:". But likeability is shallow in regard to character, and I do believe that underneath Holden's mask is indeed a heart.

*This was written earlier in the week but after class discussions my opinion has shifted!!

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