Thursday, January 15, 2015

The Tempest Reaction Post

            Many critics debate over the category of romance for Shakespeare’s plays; however, it is clear to me as I read the parameters set for romance plays that the Tempest is a prime example of one of Shakespeare’s romances. Not only does The Tempest not quite fit into the parameters of comedy or tragedy, but it also has clear elements that link it to the other plays deemed as romances.
            Take his commonly known comedies, for example. Many of us have read some of these plays, such as Twelfth Night and Midsummer’s Night Dream, and can attest to the fact that they fit into the comic parameters of a lighthearted and comic plot, along with developed characters who all magically get a happy ending (not necessarily literal magic, more like deus ex machina). The Tempest does include some of these elements, such as Prospero’s quick change of heart leading to everyone’s happiness, even Caliban’s. However, there are many elements of The Tempest that disqualify it from the category of comedy, most notably its serious plot. Almost all of the characters in the Tempest deal with serious issues such as family betrayal and the threat of death throughout the entire play, which is uncharacteristic of a comedy.
            On the other hand, The Tempest does not fit into the category of tragedy either, most notably because no one dies at the end. As Schwartz describes, “While tragedy emphasizes evil, and comedy minimizes it, romance acknowledges evil -- the reality of human suffering” (Schwartz). Unlike comedies, the Tempest does not minimize evil with a comic and light-hearted plot, as we can see through the several accounts of brotherly betrayal, such as when Antonio suggests to Sebastian that they kill Alonso and “lay (him) to bed forever,” so that Sebastian can become King of Naples (Shakespeare, 90). However, The Tempest does not emphasize evil either, because not only do Sebastian and Antonio not kill Alonso, but Prospero also decides to throw away his magic and spare everyone in exchange for regaining his Dukedom. Evil is definitely present in this play, and plays a large part in many of the main character’s motives and even small actions, such as Prospero’s poor treatment of Caliban, but the evil does not consume all, so The Tempest really does not fit into the category of Tragedy either.
            Even more importantly, though, The Tempest fits perfectly into the parameters for a Shakespearean romance. Even by simply looking at Schwartz’s six main characteristics of Shakespearean romances, we can see that the Tempest is a perfect fit. First of all, the play begins with a back-story of brotherly betrayal, dating back for almost the entirety of Miranda’s life, which cause the current scenes to unfold. As the play continues, we see more and more Shakespearean romance elements, such as the dichotomy between the civilized characters and the uncivilized Caliban, the improbably magical Ariel, and the virtuous love between Ferdinand and Miranda. Finally, the play culminates with a happy ending and theme of redemption through Prospero forgiving his brother and taking back his Dukedom.

Works Cited:
Schwartz, Debora B. "Shakespeare's Four Final Plays: The Romances." 2005.Web. 14 January
2015.
Shakespeare, William. The Tempest. New York: Barron’s Educational Series, 1985. Print.

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

The Secret Pupil: Brave New World Rection

No one understands. Even I had trouble getting it at first, but it is essential that you understand. Science and religion can both be extremely tempting, and if the average person thinks about them too much, he can be easily be sucked into their traps. As we go through these lessons, you have to remember that I am giving you knowledge, but you must not try to pursue science or religion any further. The happiness of our Society is far more important than anything we could discover with science or feel with religion. As a World Controller, it is my job to preserve everyone’s happiness, and one day it will be your job, so listen up.
Science and self-denial have always failed us. Look at Shakespeare. In fact, look at all of the major people of the past, before the time of our Ford: Jesus, Gandhi, Einstein… They were all brilliant and revered, but at what cost? Jesus was persecuted and left for dead. He was forced to face immense suffering on the cross, all to help end the rest of the world’s suffering. But people still suffered, they still faced hardships every day. Soma is a much better fix. All the happiness and no tears. Or consider Gandhi. He forced himself to be completely peaceful and celibate, suppressing so much of his nature. What a backwards way of thinking! Why would we have these urges if we weren’t supposed to act on them? Our current system is much better: everyone belongs to everyone; nothing is suppressed so everyone’s happy and fulfilled. Einstein is the best example of the flaws of science. Such brilliance, he helped bring so many inventions and innovations into the world, but science is ultimately dangerous. Once people learn a little about the world, they become ravenous for more and more information, which in the end leads to unhappiness. In short, truth is a menace to society (Huxley 204).
Now you can see why John killed himself. He was obsessed with religion, self-denial, and the search for more truth, all of which drove him mad. I don’t blame him for taking his own life, I knew that was his inevitable end as soon as he came into our “brave new world,” as he liked to call it. John was born into chaos. That’s all he knew and all he was destined for. He was never conditioned to be happy, never taught the benefits of soma.
In the past, people would have regarded such actions as sad, but now we know better. His death, as all others’, is an inevitable part of life. You’re a little young to completely understand the joy in his death, though, so let’s take some soma and then we can resume our lesson.
***
Okay, so now we’re in the Fertilization Room. “These…are the incubators” (Huxley 16). As you know, this is where humans are made. Do you remember how many identical twins we can make now through bokavskification? That’s right, sixteen thousand and twelve! Individuality can be useful in some cases, as is with the Alphas, but in most cases uniformity yields the most happiness. We are all one Society, and uniformity helps us achieve our collective goals with the least amount of conflict. It is no coincidence that the people who are exiled to the island are all Alphas, nor was it an accident that the island of entirely Alphas broke into a civil war. When people are different, it can become very dangerous. That is why we manage who is the same, who is different, and how they are different; and that is why the job of the World Controller is so important.
One day, when you are older you will take my place as a World Controller. You will get to make the decisions about how our Society will work. You must not take your responsibility lightly, though, for you will be in charge of the happiness of the entire Society, which is why these extra lessons are so important. You must be aware of science and religion and knowledgeable about their dangers so that you will not be tempted by them. But you have a few years before you have to worry too much about this, so for now, go join your friends in Centrifugal Bumble-puppy.

Okay fath-I mean Mustapha!



Works Cited: Huxley, Aldous. Brave New World. New York: Harper & Brothers Publishers, 1932. Print. 

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Frankenstein Reaction

Frankenstein is in the genre of Gothic literature because Shelley uses elements of that genre to criticize both romanticism and rationalism. Shelley shows favoritism to romanticism, though, which can be seen in her characters’ strong admiration for nature. Victor, for example, spends a whole day wandering through the mountains after William and Justine’s deaths. He describes his beautiful surroundings in detail, exclaiming “the sublime and magnificent scenes afforded me the greatest consolation that I was capable of receiving” (Shelley 101). Descriptions like this one pepper the novel and illustrate Shelley’s romanticism, especially in her fondness of nature.
Continuing her praise of nature and its peacefulness, Shelley criticizes rationalism and science through her novel. Victor Frankenstein, a chemist and pupil of the natural sciences, clearly represents rationalism. Rational thought, especially in the context of the enlightenment, focused intensely on the abandonment of emotional thought and motivation, in favor of a way of thinking that was clearer, more concise, and based in fact. Shelley points out that this new way of thinking is flawed through Victor Frankenstein’s insanity in his work. Frankenstein himself even admits as he’s recounting the story that he got a little too obsessed with creating his being. In fact, he got so consumed with the small details of his work that he failed to recognize the bigger picture of what he was creating. Thus, Frankenstein was shocked and horrified at the creature that he alone spent night and day working on for months. He could not really see the monster because he was looking at it through his rational and scientific “lenses,” if you will. However, when life was breathed into the Creature, Frankenstein viewed his creation with emotion and saw a repulsive being. In his surprise, Frankenstein panicked and fled, leaving the confused monster to fend for itself. Through this series of events, Shelley points out that emotions are necessary to see the full picture, yet are also flawed and should not be the only tools used to make decisions.
The Creature’s representation, on the other hand, is not as clear. He is an unnatural creation, an artificial being that Frankenstein created in his rational defiance of the laws of nature. However, the Creature himself, as his own being, represents romanticism. The Creature is completely controlled by his emotions, acting on whatever anger or sadness he is feeling at the moment. Give in text example of him changing his mind twice after the family freaks out at him.
Overall, Frankenstein resonates with every reader because it calls into question the everlasting nature vs. nurture debate. Whether you are someone controlled by your emotions, or someone who meticulously and rationally thinks through your actions, we all wonder whether people are naturally evil or if they are corrupted by human experience. Should we blame the Creature for killing all of Frankenstein’s family, or should we blame Frankenstein for creating the Creature in the first place? The answer all depends on your perspective.

Works Cited

Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft. Frankenstein. New York: The Penguin Group, 2013. Print.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

The Sun Also Rises Reaction

            There are many famous authors, Hemingway included, that take a page to say what could be said in one sentence. In my opinion, though, Hemingway does not accomplish this properly or eloquently. Other writers such a J.K. Rowling use imagery and devices like metaphors or synecdoche to give these long descriptions, thus pulling the reader into the scene and making them feel like they are experiencing it with right alongside the characters. Hemingway, on the other hand, has very dry and straightforward descriptions, which can give the text a feeling of droning on. For example, when Bill, Jake, and Cohn are driving to Pamplona, Jake describes the scene by saying,
“After a while we came out of the mountains, and there were trees along both sides of the road, and a stream of ripe fields of grain, and the road went on, very white and straight ahead, and then lifted to a little rise, and off on the left was a hill with an old castle, with buildings close around it and a field of grain going right up to the walls and shifting in the wind.” (Hemingway 99).
As you can see, it’s not that Hemingway doesn't give descriptions; in fact, he gives extremely lengthy descriptions. That one sentence description (containing seven ‘and’s) required a block quote in and of itself. The problem here is not brevity, but lack of imagery.
That being said, Hemingway’s straightforward descriptions can add to his novels in some ways; and The Sun Also Rises is a great example of this positive impact. The Sun Also Rises is full of lengthy, drawn-out descriptions, combined with short, back-and forth dialogue between characters. Hemingway uses this style to give his characters a feel of always being displeased and bored with the world, an attitude that is fitting of a group of war veterans drinking the rest of their lives away in Europe.

For once we actually decided to go somewhere. It was getting boring just hanging with Cohn, Brett, and everybody. We all drove out to New Orleans for the Mardi Gras Parade. The drive up there was a pain. Cohn was all over Brett and Mike was jealous and Bill was drunk the whole time and I was just sitting watching the trees and the mountains and the billboards and the cars go by. God, they are all so annoying, but especially Cohn, that guy really pisses me off!
            When we got there we headed out to the parade. There were people everywhere and it was loud and colorful and energetic. This was a great place to be. Nobody ever lives their life except at Mardi Gras. Unless you’re Cohn, that moron, he wasn’t even happy here. He was too busy pining after Brett, which just made Mike mad. What an asshole.

Works Cited: Hemingway, Ernest. The Sun Also Rises. New York: Scribner, 2003. Print.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Wuthering Heights Reaction

Wuthering Heights is a highly cyclic book, essentially everything from characters to housing comes full circle by the conclusion of the novel. Bronte uses these cycles to point to the need for balance in society.
The similarities between both generations of Catherines is evidence enough of Bronte’s use of circular patterns in her novel. Most evident is the similarity between their names. Catherine Earnshaw marries Edgar and becomes Catherine Linton; then she gives birth to Catherine Linton, who marries Hareton and becomes Catherine Earnshaw. This specific example not only shows the similarities between the two generations of Catherines, it also shows, through the reversal of their last names, the contrasts between them. As a child, Catherine Earnshaw (I) was a rugged tomboy and “as rude as a savage”, learning to be more proper when she married into the Linton family. As Nelly, one of the main narrators of the story and a personal friend of Catherine’s family, describes her transformation, “instead of a wild, hatless little savage jumping into the house, rushing to squeeze us all breathless, there lighted from a handsome black pony a very dignified person” (Bronte 50). Conversely, Catherine Linton (II) was a proper and sheltered child, learning to embrace her tough side only through her marriage back into the Earnshaw family.
Readers can also find circular patterns through several other characters, such as the characters of Edgar Linton and his nephew, Linton Heathcliff. According to Nelly, both Edgar and Linton are weak and cowardly men who each marry one of the Catherines, although Catherine (I) and Edgar’s marriage was more successful than that of Catherine (II) and Linton. Another great example is the abusive relationship between Hindley and Heathcliff in the first generation, and Heathcliff and Hareton in the second generation. After his father passed away, Hindley “drove (Heathcliff) from their company to the servants, deprived him of the instructions of the curate, and insisted that he should labor outdoors” (Bronte 44). Hindley took his (often drunken) rage out on Heathcliff, often having him flogged for little to no reason. This childhood trauma came full circle for Heathcliff when he was an adult through his constant abuse of Hindley’s son, Hareton, once he was under Heathcliff’s care.

These circular patterns all point to one central theme: the second generation, though in the same circumstances, thrived exceedingly compared to the first generation. One example of this success is the marriage between Catherine (II) and Hareton, whose love was much healthier than that of Catherine (I) and Heathcliff, and their happy ending at Thrushcross Grange. There are many speculations as to Bronte’s intention behind this circular pattern of tragic endings followed by happy endings. One theory that intrigued me was the idea that through the generations, Bronte was trying to display the ways in which primitivism and civilization clash, but one can only succeed when there is a good mix of both. The Earnshaws (Heathcliff, Hindley, Catherine (II), etcetera), who were all uneducated and brutal, ended up dying in the end. On the other hand, so did the educated and sophisticated Lintons (Edgar, Linton, etcetera). However, the people who were open to change and realized that a mix of primitive instincts as well as civility were the best way to live (Catherine (II), Haretone, Nelly, etcetera), prospered in the end of the novel.

Works Cited: Brontë, Emily. Wuthering Heights.  New York: New American Library, 2004. Print.

Thursday, April 10, 2014

Bright Lights, Boring Highschool

You open your eyes. Do you know where you are? Do you know what day it is? “Oh, right,” you remember. It’s 2 am. You fell asleep while working on that goddamn project for that stupid history class. You think about how pointless that class feels, how pointless school feels. You suppose that some of history is important to learn, the general patterns, for example. But who cares that the guy who created the first steam engine was named Steven? Does that really even matter?
                What’s worse is your drill sergeant of a history teacher. Mrs. Paulis, or crazy Paul, as everyone calls her. Crazy Paul has it out for you; that’s for sure. Although it’s your own fault and you know it. You honestly don’t even know how you’re still passing the class. It’s just hard for you to get motivated. Read this chapter, read that chapter. Take notes here, take notes there. You’re sick of hearing the same one-sided stories about the same people. You want to get out of your hellhole of a school and experience the world.
                But for now, you realize that you have to get back to work. You have to focus. You always have a hard time focusing at two in the morning, or at any time of the day, really. Just one more Adderall, then you’ll get through this. Now you’re focused, only problem is you’re still not focused on the stupid history project. You are focused on cleaning your room. A full blown purge of old stuff.

                The next thing you know your alarm is screeching at you. What time is it? You suddenly realize that you’ve been cleaning all night. You didn’t finish your project, but who really cares. It’s kind of done, you might as well just turn it in now. You throw on some clothes and head out the door, dragging your feet to the bus stop. Just another day in the cycle of your boring life.

Thursday, April 3, 2014

Catcher in the Rye: Holden & Non-conformity

Salinger uses Holden in several different ways to show the non-conformity of teenagers. Holden’s pathological lying and feelings of phoniness (as well as feeling that others are phony) not only display the non-conformity of teenagers, but also the insecurities and unsureness that are the roots of the problem both with Holden as well as teenagers in general.
Holden’s brother, Allie, died of leukemia at the young age of eleven, when Holden was only thirteen years old. Experiencing such a loss at such a young age traumatized Holden, who was unable to handle his grief properly, as we can see when he “broke all the goddam windows with (his) fist, just for the hell of it” the night of Allie’s death (Salinger 39). This series of traumatic events leaves Holden wondering who he is and where, if anywhere, he belongs. Holden always feels out of place, as he phrases it when speaking with Sally, “I don’t get anything out of anything” (Salinger 131).
Aside from Allie’s death, Holden is starved for attention, especially from his parents. We can see through little side comments, such as the fact that “(Allie’s) teachers were always writing letters to (his) mother, telling her what a pleasure it was having a boy like Allie in their class” and all the mentions of how amazing his brother, D.B. is as an author, that Holden feels like he is the only child that isn't intelligent or high achieving. People, especially teens, often fill the shoes they are given, which is exactly what Holden does by slacking off in school.
However, Holden is actually an extremely intelligent boy, so he feels phony for not acting like it. Holden has a hard time tracing his phony feeling back to its source, though, so he is simply left feeling greatly unsettled. Unable to understand all of the emotions going on inside of him, Holden projects those emotions onto those around him, which is a very common practice among teenagers. Going around calling everyone else a phony takes the pressure off of him so that he doesn't have to deal with his own feelings of phoniness. However, this projection is self-destructive, because it causes Holden to be very angry at the world and everyone in it.
In a reaction to what he perceives as others’ phoniness, as well as in an attempt to deal with his own emotions, Holden constantly lies and pretends to be someone he’s not. For example, when on the train, Holden wants to impress the attractive woman on the train so he lies and says that his name is Rudolf Schmidt and that he has a brain tumor. After a few moments, Holden realizes that he shouldn't have made up all those stories, but he explains “once I get started, I can go on for hours if I feel like it. No kidding. Hours” (Salinger 58).

These are only a few examples of the many emotions and insecurities that cause Holden, as well as teenagers in general, to be deviant and non-conforming. Teenage years are full of pressures of conformity, but Holden struggles even more due to the death of his brother, not quite sure where to go or who he should be. I think one of the most powerful re-occurrences in the book is Holden’s obsession with where the ducks go after winter. His questioning seems to represent how Holden doesn't know where to go after this “winter” of a traumatizing event. 
Salinger, J.D. Catcher in the Rye. New York: Little Brown and Company, 1951. Print.