Final opinions on journals

I feel like I've touched on this topic many times since the subject first came up, and hosestly, I'm glad I've had so long to let my opinions grow and change. I initially preferred the paper format of the old journals, butalthough they would have been very useful during long play rehersals with a lot of downtime, I seem to have changed my preference. The online journals are simply much easier to write and edit. In addition, the idea of being able to see everyone else's blog has also grown on me, as I've begun to see much more of the critical minds of my peers than before. Honestly, I feel I would be happy with eiether system of journals, so long as we keep on doing journals. Journals are such an intregal part to how I really get into a book that I feel significantly  without it. Journals are important to me, and whether it's online or on paper, I feel I should stand by them and what they do for us as readers.

Opinions on Macon Dead II

With the new information of Macon being a responsible and "self-made" man, I was thinking about how my opinion of the character has changed. Once you consider the necessity for his drive towards wealth, all of his following actions can be viewed as simply Macon attempting to do what he's always done. Even still, I'm having trouble forgiving all of Macon's actions, especially when it comes to his gruff and unloving persona he displays for his family. I don't feel like we've discussed Macon II enough in class, and I mainly wrote this post so that I could hear a wider variety of opinions. So what do you guys think of Macon's intentions? Are they justified because of the conditions in which he was raised? Or is he simply a greedy jerk?

Song of Solomon and Timeline Jumps

I've really liked Song of Solomon as a book for many reasons, but probably the strongest is Morrison's ability to write interesting characters. From the beginning of the book I've been interested in how these people develop and what makes up their personalities. This makes the story jumps in the first half of the book very frustrating.

Although I understand that the book would be much longer if there was a more slow progression through the lives of these people, I feel almost cheated out of the character development and life-changing events that took place is the lost time. This feeling is probably at its highest when Milkman quickly jumps from age twelve to twenty-two within chapter 3. This skips over what some would consider the most important time for the development of character and takes out most of the discussion of "coming of age" (one of my favorite times for character development.) The depth of these characters in more continuous sections makes me certain that I've missed hundreds of crucial events in their development as people.

Now, although I find these early jumps confusing and misguided, I really enjoy some of the later jumps which utilize a different feeling of "in medias res". Take for example, the jump between chapters 4 and 5. We haven't skipped over too much time (about 6 months) and as we read, the narrative slowly fills in the details of what happened in the lost time. This draws the reader in and makes the events much more exciting to unravel. This is very different from the earlier jumps in progression, where the lost time is viewed as unimportant and barely even worth alluding to.

Although I find these characters to be rich and interesting to follow, I still can't help but wish that the earlier section breaks had not jumped over so much time that could have been interesting to the reader. Maybe if the jumps had been smoother and more polished, I would feel less perplexed by there exclusions. Even still, the book becomes much more engaging once these jumps become more minor and explained.

The Verdict on Rochester

I've decided it's time for me to voice my opinion on the character that has spawned the most heated division in our class discussions since the discussion of Brett in The Sun Also Rises. I feel no internal conflict in saying this: I despise Mr. Rochester. To me, he simply appears to be an all around deplorable human being. The way he treats Antoinette is inexcusable, despite what some might say to the contrary.

I find no sympathy for this character, which may surprise some of you. Many have said that Rochester is sympathetic because although he is surly, that's mainly because of the "unfair" situation he is put in. How exactly is his situation in any way "unfair"? If Rochester didn't want to be a part of this new culture then why did he come here? Why did he marry Antoinette if he didn't love her? How exactly is he "forced" to marry for money? Does he have some sort of debilitating aristocrat disease that keeps him for actually earning his own goddamn money? If Jake is an example in making the privileged seem likable then Rochester is the exact opposite.

And on to the whole love potion/rape debate. I would totally side with Rochester in this situation if Antoinette was doing it out of malice or if Rochester had felt genuinely violated, but as it stands, Rochester barely lingers on that aspect of it, instead focusing on the side effects brought on by the drug. And here I would side with him if not for his childish and sadistic act of revenge. If there weren't a section in which Rochester gets royally chewed out I would be a lot more upset with this novel as a whole, but as it stands I'll just reserve all y hate for Rochester.

The Flaws of Inspired Fiction in Wide Sargosso Sea

I've always been extremely interested in great works of art that are inspired and birthed from other pieces. This idea of "parallel" or "inspired fiction" has allowed authors to reinterpret classics in order to further understand them. One of my favorites in this genre is Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, a satire of Hamlet which follows the exploits of two extremely minor characters in the Shakespeare play, and we've already seen the film version of another good example, The Hours. I also appreciate how this genre has evolved, becoming the widely popular "fanfiction" genre. Although many would consider "fanfiction" a separate, less professional category, but I believe that it allows for young aspiring writers to both experiment with characters they are used to and bear tribute to the books and worlds they love. I even dabbled into the genre myself for my open genre assignment last year, exploring how Black Swan Green protagonist Jason Taylor and Catcher in the Rye protagonist Holden Caulfield would interact if they ever met.

Although I hold this genre in very high regard, I run into a small snag when it comes to Wide Sargasso Sea: I've never read Jane Eyre, the novel which inspired it. This brings forth a difficult question to answer: is the previous reading unnecessary to my enjoyment of the book or am I missing a large part of the characterization? Although I do feel I have enjoyed this book on its own merits I can't help but feel at a disadvantage when we discuss the character of Rochester and whether he can be considered sympathetic. I find it difficult to even discuss my opinion on the character because I don't have the whole picture. It's the same feeling I would have if I tried to discuss a book I never finished among a group who has.

Although there's no changing the disadvantage I feel in discussions of character, I feel my enjoyment of the book itself isn't hampered. The reason for this is that the book takes place entirely before the events of Jane Eyre, meaning that any character development that takes place within that book is technically a moot point. Even still, I must admit that reading this piece of "inspired fiction" without first reading the source material has felt somehow wrong, as though I'm watching a show out of order, or seeing a prequel before viewing the original. I'm mainly interested to hear what others of you who are in the same boat as me think. Is it a problem to read inspired fiction without knowledge of the original, or should the book be designed to function well with both perspectives in mind?

The Importance of connecting with Meursault and Bigger Thomas

Even though it has been a long time since my last post, I want to talk about the Stranger for a little while. Due to my preoccupation with the play and other duties I've been unable to sit down and write a post that really did justice to the complexity of this novel, but that doesn't mean I haven't been considering certain subjects intensely. Luckily for these ideas, I keep a small notepad on me whenever I can in order to catch fleeting ideas for later refinement. I would've hoped to have addressed these concepts when the book was more fresh in my mind, but, unfortunately, that was not the case. I'm optimistic though, that my opinions and stances on these subjects improve with age like a fine wine. But I've already wasted enough space on this babbling. On to the nitty-gritty.

After completing my panel presentation I became very focused on how people reacted to Parts 1 and 2 differently. When I talked to other students outside of class about it the near unanimous answer was that people found the first part engaging and the second part disturbing. Seeing an almost entirely undivided opinion first led me to think that the modern preference based in the books writing, but then I began to look at reviews and more scholarly opinions of the book as a whole. In this group, I saw a huge preference towards part 2, enough that some even recommended a complete disregard for the part 1 in order to focus on the trial itself. These approaches and interpretations do bear some merit as they focus on how society should judge the behavior displayed by Meursault, but I feel that in putting such a focus on the more judgment based section a reader might miss the most rewarding and beneficial part of the novel.

  As I started the trial in part 2 of the stranger I was struck by a strange sense of literary deja-vu.  I had read a book that had a structure of almost uncanny similarity in last year's African-American Literature class. The first two sections of Native Son is the story of a poverty stricken black youth named Bigger who through a series of events comes to kill a young white girl and his black girlfriend. The third and densest part of the book concerns his trial which brings forth questions as to whether Bigger is truly "guilty" or if it is more the fault of the society and ideas that surround him. Sound familiar yet?  I found here that, similarly to my reaction to Camus,  I preferred the sections that focused on the life and interactions of the main character rather than the trial which reflects on the implications of said actions.

The reason I preferred the beginnings of these books is that it allows you to understand and judge the characters in a much more subtle way. You see how they interact with others and become slightly unsettled when they react strangely to societal norms. Most importantly, the author endears you to the characters in subtle ways by allowing you to connect with them in a way no one else can. You see into their minds and observe how they act when nobody else is around to judge or impact them, when they are able to confront their own anxieties and troubles without interference. By doing this, the authors make us more invested in the discussion of their morality and role in society. The reason we all seem to find the trial to be a disturbing and uncompromising setting is that the judge and the jury are looking at these men from the outside, while we are horrified from within. To them these men are a problem to be fixed, but for us it is a much more important problem. We want to see the story work out for the main characters. We want them to have some sort of redemption in which they change their ways and learn to live in their societies. The reason for this is that the authors took the time to make us care and  learn about the human sides of what some would call monsters. Although it may be interesting to observe Meursault without these biases I feel that the connections forged in the first part are essential to engaging the reader and causing them to truly care about the issues put forth in the second part.

Reaction to the End of The Metamorphosis

I have to admit that I was really sad with the ending to this book, but the more I reflect on it, the more I wonder if it really happens at all. Yes, the whole story's realism comes into question many times, but even if we accept those strange dreamlike qualities I feel that the final section operates outside the "reality" of the rest of the story.

When reading the narration of the final section, it is almost unmistakably Gregor speaking. This and the almost ridiculous whimsy and perfection exhibited in the ending makes me suspicious of whether or not the events actually happened.

I don't mean to call the whole plot into question, but I want to propose an alternate reason for the whimsically strange ending. I view it as the final sad hope of the dying Gregor that he can bring happiness to his family. He pictures that, in death, he is able to improve their lives in every way. This is the only way that he can justify his death, because as we've seen, he never has truly cared about his own well being, but instead what his family wanted. This makes the ending all the more sad, as it transforms from a family strangely joyous at the death of a son, to the son himself, hoping that his family finds joy in his death.

Humor in The Metamorphisis

Although I sometimes hate to admit it, the Metamorphosis has amused me pretty consistently throughout our reading of it. At first I thought the reason was that the situation was so goofy that it just came across as funny, but I now think it's much more than that.

Looking at the text, the element of the writing which causes everything to be so humorous is the style of writing itself. Everything is said such a matter-of-fact way and focuses on elements you wouldn't expect. Especially when juxtaposed to the simple and rapid progression of a scene in Hemmingway's writing, Kafka's tendency to dwell on mundane ideas makes the character seem ridiculous. Seeing Gregor's reasoned tone in the face of his transformation is just about as silly as a posh aristocrat retaining his composure while his hair is on fire.

While I do find a lot of humor in the text based on situation alone (the scene in which Gregor is desperately trying to turn around is particularly funny in my mind), the formality of the writing accentuates the humor already present. The comedy of Gregor's character is also emphasized, especially when it explains his odd priorities in this strange situation. Regardless of the source, the humor in The Metamorphosis is more tightly weaved into the story and characters than most comedy books I've read.

My Final Thoughts on Brett

I feel as though I've finally decided on my viewpoint in the raging debate of "is Brett a good person?"/"is Brett a literary bitch?" debate. I reached this new conclusion while I was working on my response paper, but it also has a basis in my panel presentation and private debates I've had with classmates outside of class. Unfortunately my conclusion doesn't side with one side in particular, so it may come across as simply wishy-washy and indecisive.

I feel like Brett is too complex of a character to simply characterize her as all good or all awful, which is the divide I've seen between a lot of my classmates. She's either a loving mother-figure who cares for all the characters and is trying to understand her own emotions, or she's a manipulative whore who plays with the emotions of others in order to gain a sick thrill of control (This is not to say all my classmates have claimed one of these arguments. This is simply what I have noticed from observing and participating in less structured and formal discussions outside of class). I feel that Brett's character is a little bit of both.

She's a burden to Jake, who is trapped in his infatuation, unable to act on it or change his current situation, but at the same time I don't think she intentionally causes Jake to suffer. And even though I don't view Brett as a "mother figure" within the story, I do see her as a human being. She can feel sorrow and regret, and can give in to selfishness and vanity, but overall, she is still learning who she wants to be as a person. In the same way I can't claim to know any of you fully as people simply based on our classroom interactions, I don't feel I can fully judge Brett based on the observations and feelings exhibited by Jake. I see her as a human pretending she knows who she is, all the while trying to learn.

That may be an over-humanization of what we draw from the text, but the more I look over old passages, the more I see a complexity of Brett, and a shimmer of the hidden iceberg beneath the water.

Thoughts on Bill

I've been liking The Sun Also Rises a lot as a book, and a lot of that can be attributed to the style Hemingway presents, but a lot of it has to do with the characters. Jake is a complex narrator who surrounds himself with very interesting people, and I can form a solid opinion on almost every one of them.

The reason I said "almost every one of them" is that I've had a hard time recently forming my opinion of Bill as a character. I find him hilarious and quick-witted regardless of the situation he finds himself in, and for a while I really enjoyed him as a character.

Then...the bigotry surfaced. While racism and homophobia has been a constant throughout the book ranging from subtle (Jake saying Cohn getting his nose flattened improved it) to overt (Jake becoming infuriated by the black drummer's friendly attitude towards Brett) it had never been quite so inflammatory as it can be with Bill.

At first, I tried to brush it away as being an attitude of a bygone era, but the more time we spend with Bill, the harder it is to make that argument. It's hard to defend rants about the American Civil War being caused by Lincoln's homosexual affairs as anything less than rampant bigotry.

And here is where I run into my problem. I really want to like Bill as a character but can't simply ignore these sometimes horrifying displays of ignorance and hate. I still "enjoy" Bill's presence in a scene and find him much more preferable to Mike the drunken ass or Brett, who, quite comically, I recently discovered is referred to as a "demi-bitch" by many literary critics. Even so, I can never view Bill in the same way I would Howie or Holden. I can picture spending time with him being fun for a little while, but it wouldn't take long for the bigotry to reach the surface. For this reason, although I may enjoy his inclusion in the book and believe the narrative is greatly improved by his involvement, I cannot like the character himself

The Hours

I've been having some trouble summing up my thoughts on The Hours, and I feel that demonstrates how complex and rich this film actually is. Although I do have some problems with it, I feel that around 80% of The Hours was of the highest quality in terms of acting, cinematography, soundtrack, and writing. I especially liked the third of the movie that focused on Virginia Woolf as a character. Had the entire movie been about her and her experiences I would think even more of it than I already do.Ed Harris was also amazing as the new Richard character. Overall, I would say that The Hours can be called a truly quality piece of cinema.

...but I didn't like it.

I know that may sound silly after I spent the last paragraph praising the film to death, but there's one element that I haven't mentioned that completely ruins the experience for me. I hate the entire 50's plotline.



So many elements of this third of the movie rubbed me the wrong way that I could no longer stand the plot itself. One of the biggest reasons is the character of Laura Brown. Now, usually I'm a pretty big Julianne Moore fan. Almost every role I've seen her in is packed with depth, emotion, and humanity (e.g. The Kids Are All Right, The Big Lebowski, Children of Men, etc), but here her acting is so flat and unappealing that I can't help but be drawn out of the experience. Whenever the camera lingers on her as she attempts to emote I consistently felt a feeling of bewilderment come over me. I don't know if I'm alone in this interpretation but Moore's performance of slowly forcing out every syllable of her dialogue didn't communicate the tortured soul of a repressed housewife to me but instead a tired actress who's having trouble remembering her lines. It's entirely possible that Moore's attempt at portraying depression is made to look even worse due to being juxtaposed to masterful portrayals from Harris, Kidman, and Streep. Regardless of the real reason, I found the performance stupendously awful.


Not only was the performance close to painful for me, but I found the character herself incredibly out of place in this kind of story. Compare Laura's motivations for suicide to our two other main candidates. Virginia Woolf is pushed to suicide by her mind itself, a brilliant but tortured thing that seems restricted by the confines of society and life itself. Richard, similarly, is mentally unstable, depression surrounding him as his disease spreads and life loses its meaning. Laura...well to be honest I can barely tell you. Where the other sections are able to richly communicate the suffering their characters are going through, all we ever really observe from Laura's life is that she has a caring husband who loves her unconditionally, a sweet son who seems to want to emulate her, and she's reading the beggining of Mrs Dalloway. Also she... talks... as if... she... is falling... asleep.

I don't want to rant for too long about all the thematic ways the 50s section detracts from the rest of the movie because I'm sure nobody will get excited for a blog of THAT size. And besides, I do want to restate that I LOVE the other two sections. If it were possible I would consider putting the Viginia Woolf third of this movie in my personal top 100 movies. I mainly just want to hear other people's reactions to this. I really want to understand and connect to the 50s storyline, and if there's some underlying meaning or subtle nuance I'm missing then by all means help me  find it. For I'd rather be wrong and love a movie than right and hate one.

Blog Vs. Journals: A Comparison

I thought it might be helpful to air my opinions and personal observations on the transition from hand-written to online journals. Having been in two semesters of Mr Mitchell's classes previously (African American Lit. and Coming of Age Novel ), I grew a certain fondness for the hand-written form of journal writing. I was obviously able to get over this preference, however, as I am at this moment utilizing the more modern equivalent. Having used both, I will attempt to weigh the benefits and disadvantages based on my own experiences and what I've seen and heard from others.


I will admit that I was initially against the online blogs as a full time replacement for hand-written journals. Last year the journal represented a much more personal communication between teacher and student. The best analogy I can present is that of a therapist and their patient. It would be ridiculous to broadcast a therapy session on NBC's thursday comedy lineup, and that's how I viewed the idea of putting the journal online. This comparison became immediately ridiculous once I considered it, but I do fear that more shy students are holding back some of their more creative ideas because of a fear of reprisal from their peers. I have so far seen no chastisement or heated debates erupting from blogs, which although a good thing, also has something to do with the fact that nobody is commenting at all. I'll try my best to comment whenever I can, but it seems difficult whenever you're in the role other than instructor to post a public comment on what amounts to be a piece of written work. The comment idea has grown on me in theory, but unless we are able to successfully utilize it, it's just a waste. I've also developed an interesting little paranoia in which I check every one of my classmates' blogs to make sure the idea I'm about to write about wasn't already done by someone else.

Of course, there are numerous benefits to the online version that I've run across. For one, it helps in keeping pieces of creative works legible in the case of a student with messy handwriting (oh, you all knew that was coming, don't act all surprised). It also allows the student to focus his writing time when it most benefits them, rather than having to try and force their creativity during class-time (some may have noticed that I write more late at night). It is even more practical when you consider that you cannot lose an online blog, forcing you to check every classroom and rummage through the lost and found whenever you become a bit absentminded. This new blog system should also cut down on a terrible habit that can develop in which a student puts off their journal work until a few nights before the final due date. I'm also sure that it's incredibly more beneficial to the sanity of our instructor to read 6 or 7 posts a day rather than thirty-five journals worth in a weekend. Additionally, although I do complain that I have to check every post to make sure I don't accidentally copy an idea, I do enjoy reading the posts made by others and watching as their opinions of the book grow and dwindle.

Well, this post turned into a bit more of a ramble than a point-by-point argument, but I'm not sure I can truthfully answer wholeheartedly for one side or the other. If I had to pick a side, it would probably be with this new system. Even with its flaws, the blogs just seem more practical and interesting for a journal writer. That said, I would still be perfectly happy to switch back. There's something so much more satisfying about holding a completed piece of writing rather than looking at it on your computer screen. I would say that This match has come to a draw, and until I see further evidence as to an obviously better journal experience, I'll simply be happy to be a part of the writing process.

Septimus Thoughts

After reflecting on today's discussion of Septimus' character I wanted to get some of my thoughts down on paper (er...blog?).

I said today that I found Septimus' inner dialogue mildly off-putting. His unique way of observing his surroundings made me see him as mildly deranged and unstable, especially when he described violent images of fire and destruction or violently snaps at Rezia. Although I still worry about the character sometimes, I feel like I've settled on a more nuanced opinion of Septimus' character.

What first got me thinking was Rosa's comment today about how his perspective seemed more poetic than violent. This got me thinking more about the character, and the newly understood back-story from yesterday's reading. The more that I reread his excerpts,  the more I started to see them as the thoughts of a depressed artist rather than the ramblings of a madman.

Knowing about Septimus' background allowed me to see past my original assumptions, and I began to understand why I was so put out by his first few narrations. They are so different than any other character's that have come before him, causing me to react with much more apprehension than I likely would have if the book started with him. He has a strange ability to hijack the narration itself, as if there's a separate narrator that also observes his strange delusions. I suppose I was so surprised by this difference in style compared to other "normal" characters that it immediately caused me to feel weirded-out.

Well, now I feel like I have a different perspective on the character as a whole. Which makes me wonder whether "curing" Septimus will inadvertently doom the artistic mind I've just begun to notice. I'm impressed by Woolf's ability to make a character as complex and intricate as Septimus. I greatly look forward to reading more about him and how society reflects on his differences.

Howie's Disgust

While reflecting on the Mezzanine recently I decided that Howie is one of my favorite narrators in fiction. His ability to spark your interest in the most trivial things is nothing short of remarkable, and his overall attitude is a welcome vacation from the more negative and pessimistic standard I’ve seen in this kind of novel. He’s a sweet character that is able to go through life seeing the simple wonder of things most people would overlook like straws, paper towels, and perforation. 

Howie’s reaction to the line from Aurelius especially demonstrates why I like him.  Aurelius claims that all of life is meaningless when you look at it with a certain perspective. Lives come and go without reason and when it’s all over you have nothing to show for it. When I first read this I was worried for a short moment that Howie might take this message to heart and enter an unhealthy and personality-changing depression, but luckily I didn’t have long to worry. Immediately Howie confronts this passage head on. In Howie’s eyes, not only is this outlook on life entirely untrue, it also seeks to ruin the sunny and curious outlook of people like him. 

I’m very happy that Howie responded this way: refusing to let a pessimistic oversimplification ruin his almost unique outlook on the world. While reading this book, I initially expected it to follow the standard of a bright and idealistic young man entering the corporate world and becoming bitter and angry with the injustice that is business. Luckily, Howie was able to break the mold by entering this emotional and intellectual meat grinder and coming out the other side the same sweet and interesting fellow. It’s that fact that earns Howie the right to rank up there with Holden Caulfield and Jason Taylor as one of my most liked main characters in a novel.

Man, wouldn’t those three make an interesting group of friends?