Satirical science-fiction war history books don't have too much time to discuss family issues, there's enough going on. However, ruminating on the big ideas Kurt Vonnegut's unique tale Slaughterhouse Five alludes to, a new approach to the argument of fate vs. free will emerges and applies to the question of individuality.
Tralfamadorian mantras teach us to go with the flow, "so it goes". Their all encompassing view of time, the goal to be "unstuck" from the "amber" that holds us, actually seems to me a more binding theory. In regards to the individuality issue, a Tralfamadorian would simply state that one was born to his or her parents, and that moment and the moments that shaped said being have, are, and will always be in existence the way they were meant to be. The idea of a deviant cannot exist if their concept were to be taken very literally.
By the way the aliens present their theory, itt sounds like good living without the consciousness of time, surfing moments as they pass. However, the fact that one's personality as they grow can be questioned stems from us "Earthlings" being more concerned with free will. It's a bottomless concept and goes against the seemingly peaceful wisdom of the Tralfamadorians, but I would say it's a key vehicle of change.
None of us wish to be exactly like our parents. Evolution of ideas and modifications of the system would not have it. Humans may rebel against the system a bit too often or try to take matters into their own hands, despite some wisdom from parent's experiential guidance. But the guts to go against time's mandates, being neither stuck or unstuck as the Tralfamadorian dictionary would describe it, I think brings us to enlightenment and mostly good development.
I would rather we not all be of the same, or seven different sexes, all with no distinct characterization. A crowd of palm faces and plunger butts with no want of control, aware of their imminent doom because one guy pushes a button. That kinda freaks me out.
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
A born artist is a whole new kind of kid
James Joyce, in his novel A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, offers an infiltration into a mind deeply perplexing, hidden to the world except through the medium of (often too interpretive) art. Stephen Dedalus, the young man portraying the artist's growth, is an Irishman.
Though not too much narrative is dedicated to the Dedalus family, strength in history and Catholic faith run deeply in this heritage. What is interesting about these components of Irish life is that each piece can be so divided against the other. For example, at the Christmas dinner table, Stephen's family argues the balance of religious piety versus loyalty to Ireland and its political figures. Though Stephen should likely have an opinion on the matter or grow into one as his family would impress upon him, he, as an artist and a maverick, goes into neither.
While on a walk with his father and uncle, the two older men show off their town and reminisce their lives centered in relationships, school, and goofing off typical of a young man of Stephen's upbringing. Stephen realizes that his brain doesn't work this way: "Nothing moved him or spoke to him from the real world unless he heard in it an echo of the infuriated cries within him. He could respond to no earthly or human appeal, dumb and insensible to the call of summer and gladness and companionship, wearied and dejected by his father's voice." Though his parents encourage Stephen to pursue acceptable aspirations, and his mother, traditional to Irish culture, sees Stephen as a god (here is where they might have a little something in common), he generally isolates himself from others and is not concerned with anything but that complies with his unique method of perceiving and processing.
Rather than acquiescing to the pressures of his family and inborn heritage, Stephen finds more of himself in aesthetics and contemplative ideas rather than the physical father and mother, or any other institution for that matter, family, Catholic spirituality, school, etc.
Though not too much narrative is dedicated to the Dedalus family, strength in history and Catholic faith run deeply in this heritage. What is interesting about these components of Irish life is that each piece can be so divided against the other. For example, at the Christmas dinner table, Stephen's family argues the balance of religious piety versus loyalty to Ireland and its political figures. Though Stephen should likely have an opinion on the matter or grow into one as his family would impress upon him, he, as an artist and a maverick, goes into neither.
While on a walk with his father and uncle, the two older men show off their town and reminisce their lives centered in relationships, school, and goofing off typical of a young man of Stephen's upbringing. Stephen realizes that his brain doesn't work this way: "Nothing moved him or spoke to him from the real world unless he heard in it an echo of the infuriated cries within him. He could respond to no earthly or human appeal, dumb and insensible to the call of summer and gladness and companionship, wearied and dejected by his father's voice." Though his parents encourage Stephen to pursue acceptable aspirations, and his mother, traditional to Irish culture, sees Stephen as a god (here is where they might have a little something in common), he generally isolates himself from others and is not concerned with anything but that complies with his unique method of perceiving and processing.
Rather than acquiescing to the pressures of his family and inborn heritage, Stephen finds more of himself in aesthetics and contemplative ideas rather than the physical father and mother, or any other institution for that matter, family, Catholic spirituality, school, etc.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Invisible man, imperceptible family stability
Ralph Ellison uses extreme ambiguity to his advantage in telling the complicated story of the invisible man, or how one becomes the invisible man. For one to become invisible, his or her foundation of identity is unusually loose.
Ellison's protagonist, being nameless from the beginning, neglects the influence a parent bears as the first characteristic they press upon their child after birth. Because Invisible Man solely follows the one character's internal growth as a bildungsroman, the reader has little information to find possible parental influence in the narrator. Except, possibly, from the lacking self-confidence of the invisible man that brings him to his predicament in the manhole at the end of his journey.
The only direct wording from a family member mentioned in Invisible Man comes from his grandfather, preaching a passive aggressive position toward the prejudice that haunts the narrator his entire life. One might assume that those words that stick with the invisible man had been the driving wisdom for the rest of his family, and the beliefs of his parents. If this is true, the invisible man doesn't diverge far from his paternal influence. Though he attempts to defy oppressive situations, for example giving his speech at Battle Royal for a small shot at recognition and better education, the narrator adheres to the innocence and passive nature his blood teaches him. This passable characteristic keeps him vulnerable to the identity that society thrusts upon him as an African American, whichever group he happens to be in at the time.
The invisible man has no roots, no identification, and that's the point. This is not a book that can give me a conclusive answer to my question in the affirmative direction. However, I feel the narrator's omitted family history and childhood from the book emphasizes how lost one becomes without a strong parental foundation.
Ellison's protagonist, being nameless from the beginning, neglects the influence a parent bears as the first characteristic they press upon their child after birth. Because Invisible Man solely follows the one character's internal growth as a bildungsroman, the reader has little information to find possible parental influence in the narrator. Except, possibly, from the lacking self-confidence of the invisible man that brings him to his predicament in the manhole at the end of his journey.
The only direct wording from a family member mentioned in Invisible Man comes from his grandfather, preaching a passive aggressive position toward the prejudice that haunts the narrator his entire life. One might assume that those words that stick with the invisible man had been the driving wisdom for the rest of his family, and the beliefs of his parents. If this is true, the invisible man doesn't diverge far from his paternal influence. Though he attempts to defy oppressive situations, for example giving his speech at Battle Royal for a small shot at recognition and better education, the narrator adheres to the innocence and passive nature his blood teaches him. This passable characteristic keeps him vulnerable to the identity that society thrusts upon him as an African American, whichever group he happens to be in at the time.
The invisible man has no roots, no identification, and that's the point. This is not a book that can give me a conclusive answer to my question in the affirmative direction. However, I feel the narrator's omitted family history and childhood from the book emphasizes how lost one becomes without a strong parental foundation.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Your Typical Father-Son Power Struggle, Henry IV vs. V
Shakespeare's historical play, Henry IV Part I, explores the messy inner-workings behind the succession of a throne. Through the depraved relationship between King Henry IV and Prince Hal (Henry V), the bard reveals truths about father to son inherited traits and inherited expectations, adding humor and relate-ability to the situation with a supplemental character named Falstaff.
Most of Hal's growing up occurs outside the palace and in a crude bar setting with less-than respectable commoners (in the King's eye). Fat old John Falstaff, Hal's pub friend, plays the role of Henry IV's foil, replacing kingly advice and fatherly duty with street knowledge and fatherly affinity. Though it is from Falstaff that Hal receives his ruling style and understanding that "wisdom cries out in the streets", Hal eventually reverts to the neglected influence of his father in him when battle commences. In his first very important soliloquy, Hal addresses his two-sided character, admitting some foolishness in his acts at the tavern but predicting the coming of his rise to power and glory, where the clouds will clear and the sun (or son) will be revealed in true allegiance to his father's expectations and teaching.
Despite the rocky road Henry IV and Hal endured to their bond, Hal proves to be a mirror image of his father when the most prominent piece of his father's life is thrust upon him. Henry V inherits his father's commanding presence - with perhaps a bit more active valor than the king - as messenger Vernon basks in Hal's new appearance as a warrior ready for the throne.
Shakespeare's exploration of Hal and Henry IV's relationship as a base for the historical drama contributes to my question of inherited identity the complications of an estranged bond and the strong will of a child. It puts forth the question of nature versus nurture with the presence of both the king and Falstaff and ultimately concludes that the nature of one's parent, at least parts of it, will manifest itself in one's developing self, accompanied by personally gained knowledge.
Most of Hal's growing up occurs outside the palace and in a crude bar setting with less-than respectable commoners (in the King's eye). Fat old John Falstaff, Hal's pub friend, plays the role of Henry IV's foil, replacing kingly advice and fatherly duty with street knowledge and fatherly affinity. Though it is from Falstaff that Hal receives his ruling style and understanding that "wisdom cries out in the streets", Hal eventually reverts to the neglected influence of his father in him when battle commences. In his first very important soliloquy, Hal addresses his two-sided character, admitting some foolishness in his acts at the tavern but predicting the coming of his rise to power and glory, where the clouds will clear and the sun (or son) will be revealed in true allegiance to his father's expectations and teaching.
Despite the rocky road Henry IV and Hal endured to their bond, Hal proves to be a mirror image of his father when the most prominent piece of his father's life is thrust upon him. Henry V inherits his father's commanding presence - with perhaps a bit more active valor than the king - as messenger Vernon basks in Hal's new appearance as a warrior ready for the throne.
Shakespeare's exploration of Hal and Henry IV's relationship as a base for the historical drama contributes to my question of inherited identity the complications of an estranged bond and the strong will of a child. It puts forth the question of nature versus nurture with the presence of both the king and Falstaff and ultimately concludes that the nature of one's parent, at least parts of it, will manifest itself in one's developing self, accompanied by personally gained knowledge.
Monday, November 11, 2013
As Mother Lays Dying, the Family Struggles with Personal Identity
A tale of perhaps the most chaotic family in literature, William Faulkner's As I Lay Dying reveals multiple truths about family dynamics, including how individuality is very nature lenient, mainly toward the mother's influence. The death of their mother causes each Bundren family member to struggle with their individuality a midst the rest of their kin as they attempt to fulfill one collective promise to her, carrying her coffin to Jefferson for burial.
Faulkner, in the cases of two of Addie's sons, Jewel and Vardaman, uses the motif of two animals, a horse and a fish, to quite directly characterize the nature of their identities and connection with "mother". Jewel is a wild spirit and a man of action, he loves in his own way, sternly but sincerely. "Your mother is a horse," Darl says of Jewel, reflecting upon the relationship Jewel and his steed share. Faulkner comments on the inevitability of shared traits between a mother and child as the mirror image of Jewel and his horse is described as a mother-son relation. Vardaman, just before Addie's death, catches and cleans a fish for her. Through this action, he associates his mother with the gift, perhaps as an attempt to cling to her dying body by offering a sort of reincarnation option. Seeing the fish chopped and cooked for dinner, Vardaman slips into an incoherent babbling state for the remainder of the journey, intermittently exclaiming or muttering, "My mother is a fish." His connection with Addie must have been great, as her death and the death of his reincarnation of her leaves him amiss, unsure of who he belongs to and who he possibly could be.
The children's' relationships with Anse, their father, is much less emphasized. They inherited his selfishness in that the journey to Addie's eventual grave becomes an opportunity for errand running, but Anse's caliber of laziness is unmatched.
Faulkner's dominant character, who, ironically, happens to be dead, brings forward an interesting sub-question to my question of nurture. Does the mother have more of an influence than the father? In this case of the spunky, demanding Addie Bundren, an strong argument for the power of a mother's relationship with her children's future identities can be made.
Faulkner, in the cases of two of Addie's sons, Jewel and Vardaman, uses the motif of two animals, a horse and a fish, to quite directly characterize the nature of their identities and connection with "mother". Jewel is a wild spirit and a man of action, he loves in his own way, sternly but sincerely. "Your mother is a horse," Darl says of Jewel, reflecting upon the relationship Jewel and his steed share. Faulkner comments on the inevitability of shared traits between a mother and child as the mirror image of Jewel and his horse is described as a mother-son relation. Vardaman, just before Addie's death, catches and cleans a fish for her. Through this action, he associates his mother with the gift, perhaps as an attempt to cling to her dying body by offering a sort of reincarnation option. Seeing the fish chopped and cooked for dinner, Vardaman slips into an incoherent babbling state for the remainder of the journey, intermittently exclaiming or muttering, "My mother is a fish." His connection with Addie must have been great, as her death and the death of his reincarnation of her leaves him amiss, unsure of who he belongs to and who he possibly could be.
The children's' relationships with Anse, their father, is much less emphasized. They inherited his selfishness in that the journey to Addie's eventual grave becomes an opportunity for errand running, but Anse's caliber of laziness is unmatched.
Faulkner's dominant character, who, ironically, happens to be dead, brings forward an interesting sub-question to my question of nurture. Does the mother have more of an influence than the father? In this case of the spunky, demanding Addie Bundren, an strong argument for the power of a mother's relationship with her children's future identities can be made.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Wuthering Heights: A Tale for/of Generations
Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights uses a cyclical writing structure and motif of doubles to aid her exploration of the development of her characters' personalities/traits in regards to their backgrounds.
The most illusive yet prominent character, Heathcliff, does not provide much clarity to the subject, being from the streets with no knowledge of his parents. Nelly attempts to be an influence on Heathcliff's behavior, acting as a mother and, in his young age, encouraging him with these words: "You're fit for a prince in disguise. Who knows but your father was Emperor of China, and your mother an Indian queen... Were I in your place, I would frame high notions of my birth; and the thoughts of what I was should give me courage and dignity..." (p 51). Nelly's statement is in line with the idea that one's identity can be found in his or her parents, but in this case Heathcliff has the opportunity to make up his identity. In the end, the reader cannot substantially prove if his eventual morose, selfish behavior was his choice or his absent parents' manifestation upon him.
Nelly, in the end, expresses an ultimate confusion with Heathcliff's case while visiting his grave: "But where did he come from , the little dark thing... And I began, half dreaming, to weary myself with imaging some fit parentage fro him; and repeating my waking meditations, I tracked his existence over again, with grim variations..." (p 301).
Bronte's juxtapositions between parents and offspring in the second piece of the novel display the idea that a person is a mixed image between the environment they grow up in and direct traits from the parents. For example, young Catherine is a double of her mother Catherine in appearance, and does have a wild way about her that the late Catherine possessed in her early years. She differs, however, in her sensitivity toward others rather than herself, a characteristic most likely harbored through her father, Linton, and nanny Nelly's teachings and love for her.
Linton Heathcliff, on the other hand, is nowhere close to having the visage of his dark father Heathcliff, and has not the brute strength and will of his father either. Nor do I see much of Isabella in him, other than possibly the flaxen hair. She was a somewhat stronger willed being who pursued what she wanted despite the will of others. Linton, being raised under Heathcliff's mighty hand, became a menacing and sniveling character at the same time by Heathcliff's conditioning. If he had been under a different roof, Nelly and Edgar proposed he might have grown up to be a better man, completely independent of the identities of his counterparts.
Recycling names gets tricky throughout the piece for the reader, but serves a strong purpose in Bronte's message. For instance, though young Catherine resembles her mother strongly in certain aspects and would be expected to be a continuation of her mother's behaviors, the fact that she transitions from Catherine Linton to Catherine Earnshaw whereas her mother does the opposite (Catherine Earnshaw to Catherine Linton), proves one's ability to break free of family traditions passed down.
I must conclude that Bronte intends her readers to learn from the failures of Heathcliff and the other beginning characters, their inability to take control of what was happening around them and deciding who they wanted to be. Though there is evidence that parental influence carries weight among the Wuthering Heights second generation, their eventual ability to bury the deep historical distemper between two families is weightier and the goal of Bronte's inclusion of those personalities.
The most illusive yet prominent character, Heathcliff, does not provide much clarity to the subject, being from the streets with no knowledge of his parents. Nelly attempts to be an influence on Heathcliff's behavior, acting as a mother and, in his young age, encouraging him with these words: "You're fit for a prince in disguise. Who knows but your father was Emperor of China, and your mother an Indian queen... Were I in your place, I would frame high notions of my birth; and the thoughts of what I was should give me courage and dignity..." (p 51). Nelly's statement is in line with the idea that one's identity can be found in his or her parents, but in this case Heathcliff has the opportunity to make up his identity. In the end, the reader cannot substantially prove if his eventual morose, selfish behavior was his choice or his absent parents' manifestation upon him.
Nelly, in the end, expresses an ultimate confusion with Heathcliff's case while visiting his grave: "But where did he come from , the little dark thing... And I began, half dreaming, to weary myself with imaging some fit parentage fro him; and repeating my waking meditations, I tracked his existence over again, with grim variations..." (p 301).
Bronte's juxtapositions between parents and offspring in the second piece of the novel display the idea that a person is a mixed image between the environment they grow up in and direct traits from the parents. For example, young Catherine is a double of her mother Catherine in appearance, and does have a wild way about her that the late Catherine possessed in her early years. She differs, however, in her sensitivity toward others rather than herself, a characteristic most likely harbored through her father, Linton, and nanny Nelly's teachings and love for her.
Linton Heathcliff, on the other hand, is nowhere close to having the visage of his dark father Heathcliff, and has not the brute strength and will of his father either. Nor do I see much of Isabella in him, other than possibly the flaxen hair. She was a somewhat stronger willed being who pursued what she wanted despite the will of others. Linton, being raised under Heathcliff's mighty hand, became a menacing and sniveling character at the same time by Heathcliff's conditioning. If he had been under a different roof, Nelly and Edgar proposed he might have grown up to be a better man, completely independent of the identities of his counterparts.
Recycling names gets tricky throughout the piece for the reader, but serves a strong purpose in Bronte's message. For instance, though young Catherine resembles her mother strongly in certain aspects and would be expected to be a continuation of her mother's behaviors, the fact that she transitions from Catherine Linton to Catherine Earnshaw whereas her mother does the opposite (Catherine Earnshaw to Catherine Linton), proves one's ability to break free of family traditions passed down.
I must conclude that Bronte intends her readers to learn from the failures of Heathcliff and the other beginning characters, their inability to take control of what was happening around them and deciding who they wanted to be. Though there is evidence that parental influence carries weight among the Wuthering Heights second generation, their eventual ability to bury the deep historical distemper between two families is weightier and the goal of Bronte's inclusion of those personalities.
Monday, September 2, 2013
The complexity of Oedipus's origins
Relating Oedipus to his parents can be tricky because through much of his journey Oedipus doesn't know who his real parents are. It's precisely this conundrum that reveals him to be quite similar to his kin who abandoned him in the mountains.
Throughout the story Oedipus is in search of the truth of his origins. "But I account myself a child of Fortune, beneficent Fortune, and I shall not be dishonoured. She's the mother from whom I spring... . Such is my breeding, and I shall never prove so false to it, as not to find the secret of my birth." (Lines 1080-1086) The Greek culture that values family and understands a link between parent and child is shown by Oedipus's strong belief that he will be true to his breeding and "never prove false to it". Unfortunately Oedipus is subject to dramatic irony when he states he will be fortunate to uncover where he comes from, as the audience knows he is true to the character of his parents but the outcome is not so good.
Though we don't know much of anything about Oedipus's father, and his mother/wife doesn't partake in the same thirst for knowledge and truth as her son, the royal family shares a passionate recklessness. After hearing the oracle's grim prophecy, both father/mother and son react without a thought to avoid the situation, and in turn place themselves directly in the spot they were trying to avoid.
Throughout the story Oedipus is in search of the truth of his origins. "But I account myself a child of Fortune, beneficent Fortune, and I shall not be dishonoured. She's the mother from whom I spring... . Such is my breeding, and I shall never prove so false to it, as not to find the secret of my birth." (Lines 1080-1086) The Greek culture that values family and understands a link between parent and child is shown by Oedipus's strong belief that he will be true to his breeding and "never prove false to it". Unfortunately Oedipus is subject to dramatic irony when he states he will be fortunate to uncover where he comes from, as the audience knows he is true to the character of his parents but the outcome is not so good.
Though we don't know much of anything about Oedipus's father, and his mother/wife doesn't partake in the same thirst for knowledge and truth as her son, the royal family shares a passionate recklessness. After hearing the oracle's grim prophecy, both father/mother and son react without a thought to avoid the situation, and in turn place themselves directly in the spot they were trying to avoid.
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