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.