Is this God's ironic revenge?

I usually like the main character in the novels that I read.  No matter how dislikable they may seem, there is always something about them that makes up for their downsides.  So far, I find Hazel Motes–the main character in Flannery O’Connor’s Wise Blood–extremely dislikable and haven’t been able to isolate any redeeming qualities in his personality (so far).

However, it isn’t just Haze that I dislike, every person in the novel seems disagreeable, slimy, or even base in some way.  Take Leora Watts for example: she is the town prostitute whose teeth “were small and pointed and speckled with green and there was a wide space between each one” (30).  Ew. And its not just Ms. Watts.  Every character we (the readers) come into contact with seems so mean or wrong.  Like Enoch, who hits on the poor soda girl everyday, watches women swim, and yells terrible things at the animals in the zoo. Or even like the poor soda girl– who you actually start to feel bad for because of the terrible things that Enoch says to her–who ended up having a fierce temper and a profanity problem.  And then, just when I thought that the one armed mechanic was going to be my saving grace, he ended up having a caged, uncared for animals in the back of his truck.

So where are all the likable characters? Is there anyone in Wise Blood who I can like (as a person)?

Binx's worst nightmare ironically becomes is reality.

As soon as I finished The Moviegoer, I thought to myself: IRONY.

That is the one word that I can think of to describe the outcome.  It was so ironic.  Everything that Binx said that he didn’t believe in or didn’t want, he ended up getting.  Earlier in the novel Binx talked about this movie he saw in which the main character showed up in a new town, with no memory of his previous life, and has to start completely over.  In the end, the main character becomes a respectable citizen, gains the trust of the neighborhood kids, settles down with a pretty librarian, and starts a family.  Sounds pretty nice, right? According to Binx, no.  Binx condemns this character for settling into “the everydayness”–something which he painstakingly tries to avoid at all costs.

So it would make sense that at the end of the novel, Binx winds up without the 1950s dream ending (just as he would have liked). It does, but that isn’t what happens. Binx winds up marrying Kate, going to medical school, and–essentially –living out the end of the movie that he couldn’t stand.  Anyway, I find it ironic that Binx ends up succumbing to “the everydayness” that he so vehemently rejects for the whole novel.

A new book, a new impression, a new blog.

So, at first I didn’t think I liked Walker Percy’s The Moviegoer.  I just didn’t quite get it.  After we discussing tone in class, the novel is growing on me now that I have tone in mind.

So tonight I was reading and I got to the part where Binx picks Kate up and they are trying to figure out what they are going to do.  Kate says, “Have you noticed that only in time of illness or disaster or death are people real? I remember the time of the wreck–people were so kind and helpful and solid.  Everyone pretended that our lives until that moment had been every bit as real as the moment itself and that the future must be real too, when the truth was that our reality had only been purchased by Lyell’s death.  In another hour or so we had all faded out again and gone our dim ways” (81).  When after reading what Kate had said, this Kate started to think.  I think that what Kate (character) is saying about the difference in people’s actions is true.  People care more about you when you are in the middle of a tough time–tragedies seem to bring out the best in people.  However are these people truly being real? Or could their caring attitude just be fake? It really makes me wonder if tragedy bring about genuineness in people or if it just makes them fake in a “better”, more socially acceptable way.  If people are only real in times of disaster, are they fake the rest of the time? And on that note, can you be real and genuine and yet fake at other times? If makes me wonder whether these people who suddenly care so much for Kate are faking being real.

Anyway, definitely something to think about.

“Words, words.  They’re all we have to go on.” (p 41).

This made me think:

When you think about it, words are all we have to base our judgements off of.  And when you think about this idea a little further, it becomes pretty unsettling pretty darn quickly.  There is such an ambiguity in language.  Think about the word “maybe”:

Runner 1: “Hey, do you want to go for a run later today?”

Runner 2: “Maybe.”

WhAt?!

What do you mean by “Maybe,” Runner 2?

Does Runner 2 mean, ” Maybe… that’d be nice” or “Maybe… the idea of running later today is giving me cramps now” or “Maybe… I already ran earlier today” or even “Maybe… no way, only in your dreams, loser!” Or wait, maybe Runner 2 just means: “Maybe.” *Gasp*

See what I mean–Runner 1 is either going to get their hopes us, feel like Runner 2 hates them, or just get extremely confused.  Runner 1 is falling victim to the ambiguity of language!

But perhaps Runner 2 chose the word “maybe” on purpose.  Perhaps Runner 2 didn’t feel like revealing his true meaning.  So, perhaps he manipulated language in such a way  that Runner 1 would have no idea that he wasn’t being completely honest with him.

Everyone knows that this happens.  It happens all the time.  People soften the truth all the time as to not hurt other people’s feelings.

But is this always a bad thing? What if we said everything we really meant? Is the ugly truth really worth it? For me it is. For me, I’d like to hear what people really have to say.  Rather than meaningless words and rhetoric, I’d like to hear the truth.

More specifically, I'd like to hear what all of you really have to say.

But due to the ambiguity of language, sometimes one cannot express what they are really thinking.  Sometimes words cannot do thoughts justice.

But without words there is no communication.  There is no mutual understanding.

So, no matter how ambiguous language can be, it is necessary.   As Tom Stoppard put it, ”Words, words.  They’re all we have to go on.” (p 41).

So, I was going to make this a response to your Blog, but it ended up becoming something a little too long for a comment and I felt weird posting it on your blog.

1) I don’t mix up Kevin and Colin’s names all that often anymore.

2) The idea of consistency intrigues me as well. As humans we strive for consistency. We are truly creatures of habit. Think about your morning routine for example. For me this entails brushing my teeth, washing my face, fixing my hair then my makeup,getting dressed, and then making my bed (in that order). I do things that way because it is something that I always do, for consistency’s sake. However, I am pretty certain that I function better most mornings because of this routine–if I mixed up the order I’m pretty sure I could walk out the door without washing my face or making my bed. In real life it is the inconsistencies that trouble us. Anything as small as your sandwich being made with mayo instead of mustard or as dramatic as when that guy you’ve been casually seeing/hanging out with/talking to starts sending you mixed signals can mess up your whole day (or in the later case can send you drive you nearly crazy). HOwever, what I find more intriguing about the way that consistency is portrayed in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead is that some things seem wrong when they are too consistent.  Take the coin toss for example: when a coin lands on heads 93 times in a row it becomes suspicious and erie–is something wrong with the coin, no. Is this phenomenon improbable, yes.  This instance feel weird because it is too consistent–which is something strange to think about.

Here lies my first Rosencrantz And Guildenstern Are Dead blog post.  So far, the play has been semi-confusing, but I feel that is intentional.  I feel like it will all come together sooner or later.  Although certain things do not make sense now, the idea of probability as a theme almost slaps you in the face.

At the opening of the play, Rosencrencrantz and Guildenstern are flipping coins. Guildenstern flips the coin, if the coin is heads Rosencrantz takes the coin for himself.  Apparently they have been doing this for some time because if has landed on heads upwards of 80 times.  Rosencrantz just accepts the fact that the coin keeps landing on heads and is delighted that it keeps happening.  Guildenstern on the other hand goes into an in depth study of probability.  He examines the situation from all angles, yet, in the end, he comes to the simple conclusion that it is just, “a spectacular vindication of the principle that one individual coin spun individually (he spins one) is as likely to come down heads as tails and therefore should be no surprise each individual time it does” (16). The fact that the overly analytical Guildenstern has arrived at this conclusion about the coin toss may perhaps be a signal to how the rest of the play may pan out with  respect to the idea of probability.

So, apparently I never got the memo that we were supposed to do a blog post on our individual reading assignment, but here it is (better late than never?)!

For my individual reading assignment I chose to read A Streetcar Named Desire and it did not disappoint.  Although it was not what I originally expected, I was still spellbound by Willams’ play.  One thing that caught my attention was how easy it was to identify with Blanche.  Why should I have anything in common with Blanche? I did not grow up on a plantation. I have not been previously married and do not feel responsible for my lost love’s death. I have not swindled away my family’s estate and finances. I do not have sexual relations with complete strangers. I do not feed off other’s opinions of me or have an extreme anxiety problem. So why do I feel so connected to Blanche? I feel that my connection to Blanche stems from her extreme insecurities.  We all have them, but Blanche  just shows them.  Like Blanche, I too fear rejection.  I too want acceptance.  And although I–hopefully–don’t show it as much as Blanche does, I also have things that I am insecure about.  Blanche cares so much about her appearance that she cakes on makeup and only goes out with men at night.  And although I do not care as much about what others think of me, I still long for approval and acceptance–I still care what others think of me.  So, I understand what Blanche feels.  Do I feel it as strongly, no. But, I feel that Blanche’s intense insecurities appeals to the Blanche in all of us.  Its what makes her accessible to the audience because we, like Blanche, aren’t perfect.

So our discussions today in class got me thinking: Why did Virginia Woolf choose to name her novel Mrs. Dalloway rather than The Hours.  I mean, naming the novel The Hours would make a ton of sense–there is a definite theme of the fleetingness of time and Woolf chooses to write about Big Ben every single time the clock strikes a new hour.  So why not The Hours? Why title the novel Mrs. Dalloway?

Well, Virginia Woolf must have a reason to title her novel Mrs. Dalloway instead of The Hours– I mean, she took the time to talk about “The sparrows fluttering, rising, and falling in jagged fountsins were part of  pattern; white and blue, barred with black branches” (22) she must of had a good reason for re-titling her novel.

Well, although I cannot delve into the inner recesses of Woolf’s mind, I think I may have an answer.  Throughout the novel Woolf  alludes to the fact that when women get married they seem forced to throw away their identities and personal interests to become a wife .  Rezia leaves her homeland, family, and passion for hatmaking to become Septimus’s wife, every married woman in the novel is referred to as Mrs. (Insert husband’s full name here), Clarissa is left planning parties for fun, and even Sally gives up smoking cigars, sitting cross-legged in dresses, and being an independent young woman to become a devoted wife.  The only woman who seems to have her own distinct identity is Lady Bruton–who is unmarried yet powerful.

Is it a coincidence that the novel is named Mrs. Dalloway rather than The HOurs, or Clarissa, or even Clarissa Dalloway?

I think not .

So far, Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying has proved to be quite confusing.  As a reader, I feel like I’ve been left with nothing to cling to.  I feel as if I have just been flung into Darl, Jewel, Cora, Dewey Dell, and Tull’s lives.  They keep name dropping, mentioning events, and changing perspective.  For me it has added up to a confusing first 34 pages.  I can’t decide who Tull, Miss Lawington, Eula, Anse, Cash, Peabody, and Vardaman are–I suppose I’ll understand their role with time(maybe?).

But for now I can say that I know that Jewel and Darl are brothers and that Addie is their mother.  It also seems that Dewey Dell and Darl have an understanding for each other–maybe love? Since Eula watched Darl walk through the room (that Addie was in) I also suspect that she has feelings for him.  Also, Jewel and Cora seem to be opposites when it comes to religion.  But thats about all I can gather from what I’ve read so far.  Hopefully I understand more as I go along–maybe Faulkner wanted his reader to be a little disoriented at the beginning of As I Lay Dying.  If so, mission accomplished.

Well, this book is definitely not what I was expecting.  When I picked up Song of Solomon for the first time, I thought it was going to be your “run-o-the-mill” english class novel.  Boy was I surprised.  Within the first chapter, you see an insurance agent jump of the top of Mercy hospital, hear of daughters who do nothing except sew red, velvet roses, observe a mother breast-feed her much too old son, learn about a daughter sucking her dead fathers fingers, and enter the lives of many strange and dysfunctional characters.  The weirdest thing about most of these events is that no one makes a big to-do about them–as if it is normal.  The only thing that would make the book weirder would be a character with a skeleton in their closet.  But no one meets that description–the bones  that Pilate had were hanging in a sack from her ceiling.  Wait, what??

Ok, so finally there is something that all of the characters in the book think is weird: Pilate’s inheritance is a bag full of dead bones–not the gold they thought it was.  Macon best describes the strangeness of their discovery when he says, “What’s crazier? Her hauling a sack of of gold around all this time, or hauling a dead man’s bones around? Huh? Which one?” (205) Well, I’ll tell you what’s wierder: the only reason that Pilate went back is because her dead father told her to.  She rationalizes the fact that she took the bones by saying “if you take a life, then you own it.  You responsible for it.  You can’t get rid of somebody by killing them.  They still there, and they still yours now… They stay with you anyway, in your mind.  So it’s a better thing, a more better thing to have the bones right there with you wherever you go…it frees up your mind” (208).  As chilling as that thought is, it is true.  If you kill someone, no matter how far you try to distance yourself from it, the fact that you killed someone will linger with you forever–not that I am speaking from experience.  Although Pilate went to an extreme by taking the bones with her, I think that this is important.  What does this mean for Hagar? For Guitar? For the rest of the Days? For Macon?  Hmm… something to think about.

Some poor policeman getting ready to take a gander in Pilate's sack