So, finally getting back into the swing of things with the weekly responses… yay.
Anyway, regarding today’s reading on Frederick Douglass, I realized that Douglass made slavery a very real subject very quickly. Just by describing the fact that he had no idea when he was born or what his original name was made me cringe in disbelief; that a man didn’t know a fact that almost every human knows by heart. How would that affect a person, to be unaware of how old they were when everyone around them knew? I can’t even begin to imagine. Also, all the instances that Douglass mentioned in his life as a slave were extremely powerful: seeing his aunt being whipped; his guardian ceasing to teach him how to read.
Douglass was different than the other slaves around him, that much was clear. Where others paled at the thought of running away, Douglass didn’t hesitate. Running away back then held a lot of danger. Even after the slave escaped from the plantation, they could still be caught up north, or even tricked back into slavery after their freedom was purchased. It took Douglass a great amount of courage (and wit, for that matter) to take the first step.
Finally, I’ll close with my own personal thoughts on this piece that we examined. It is difficult to be free. If a man binds himself with chains of faith, law, or otherwise, he finds that his life is easy. It is easy to relinquish control to another force, and simply follow what places the force takes him to. Freedom is a burden; every action he takes is a choice, and choices often leave doubts and niggling worries in the recesses of his mind. But freedom is worth pursuing. Why? Because freedom is what makes us unique.
Weekly Response #2 (January 17, 2014)
Well, color me surprised. The themes at which I was hinting at in my previous response were explained in full this week, with the tale of the Grand Inquisitor. It really makes me happy to see a bold author explore a topic that I find to be very worth discussing. The dialogue we had in class was well worth the amount of time it took to read the passage. In regards to the tale, I found it very interesting. It really made me wonder what kind of things were going on when the author decided to write this. What possessed him to depict the Church as the enemy, as servants of the devil. Sure, before there were plenty of examples of clergymen and holy men corrupted by the power of the Church office they occupied. However, this text differs from the others because the Grand Inquisitor is not interested in power, at least not as much as ones before him. He is interested in fulfilling the devil’s work by providing mankind with earthly bread; miracle, mystery, and authority; and universal unity. In his interrogation of Jesus the GI orders him to remain quiet, for he tells him that he cannot simply add more to what has already been said. Jesus cannot change what he has already laid out in Scripture. I find it fitting that Jesus remains silent. He doesn’t have to say anything to affect the GI’s thinking. By that simple action, by a simple kiss, he acknowledged the GI’s freedom to believe and to do what he believes. It reminds the reader that the GI is still free, despite all his talk about taking away freedom in exchange for happiness. Maybe it is a sign to the reader that the GI is not truly happy, and seeks to use his power to ensure that no individual under his influence suffers what he suffers.
Weekly Response #3 (January 24, 2014)
Reading through Faust this week has me excited. I knew that when we went over the syllabus I knew this would be the highlight of the semester, and I haven’t been disappointed. I’ve always been fascinated by the story of Faust, and the struggles he endures over the course of the play.
First of all, I didn’t like the actor choices for my group’s interpretation of the first scene. Leonardo DiCaprio, no matter how good of an actor he is, is not the right fit for Faust. And neither is Heath Ledger a good fit for the earth spirit that he summons. Joseph Gordon-Levitt was the only sensible choice for Wagner, though. If it was up to me, the casting would have gone as follows:
Faust- Bill Nighy
Earth Spirit- Ron Perlman
Wagner-Joseph Gordon-Levitt
Moving on, today’s discussion was the most revealing about Faust’s motivations and dreams. When making the deal with Mephistopheles (who would be played by Anthony Hopkins, if I were calling the shots), Faust talks about how he wants the demon to take his soul if ever he finds fulfillment or sinks into complacency. He knows that if he reaches either of those points, there’s no going back. Fulfillment is the end game for Faust, as it is for many of us. He knows that as soon as he achieves happiness, if he ever does, he wants to die soon after, so that he won’t lose it. Also, when he discusses his motivations to Wagner he reveals his “two-souls”: one who longs towards the earth, the other who pines for the heavenly, what lies beyond this earth; that’s why he is so fixated with the sun and the moon. And the parallels one could make between Faust and Icarus are many. I can only imagine what will happen when Faust’s wings inevitably burn up...
Weekly Response #4 (January 31, 2014)
This week’s discussion on Faust and other Romantic works is jam-packed full of things to discuss. Even though I missed a class this week (which I’m sincerely sorry about), there’s still plenty to talk about.
First, in terms of Monday’s discussion… I should have known Faust’s conflict would’ve come from a woman. I should’ve known. Faust sees Gretchen passing by, and he falls in lust (not love, obviously). And Mephistopheles just makes it worse by telling Faust to pursue Gretchen, even if Faust doing so would possibly endanger the terms of the contract that they made. The interactions between Faust and Mephistopheles make you wonder which of them is truly the one in control. Many in the class remarked at how cunning and tricky Mephistopheles was, and I wholeheartedly agree with them. Mephistopheles, while a demon, actually has very little power. He cannot do many things for himself, so it’s necessary that he develops people skills and becomes a being of great charisma. That’s how he’s able to make a great many people do his deeds for him: in many respects he’s like Tom Sawyer, convincing others to do his work while he reaps the benefits.
Also, we talked about why Mephistopheles is such a funny, relatable character in the story. Part of his personality links to his cunning and his ability to persuade others to do his bidding, but it also comes down to playing both sides equally. I don’t know if it’s just me, but I like it when I can sympathize with the villain as well as the hero. This duality of sympathy gives the feeling of uncertainty and creates conflict within the mind of the person. I think Goethe at least marginally made Mephistopheles a likable character because he wanted to add depth and complexity to what would have otherwise been a very static character.
Weekly Response #5 (February 7, 2014)
This week’s examination of Romantic-era music had me feeling good, even better than usual, because I can understand the dichotomy between Classical and Romantic much better when I can hear it. The exercise in which we listened to samples of both eras had me in a bit of a fix, though, because when I hear the word “Romantic” I instantly think of the theme from Romeo & Juliet (also one of the samples played in class). This sample clashed with the Romantic piece that was played alongside the Classical piece. I should have realized that the Romantic era isn’t just about lovey-dovey stuff, as clearly evidenced by the dark subject matter that Faust encompasses. The first piece, the Classical one, I interpreted as having a very celebratory sound, almost as if it would be played to scenes of people frolicking through a field or something. The second piece, the Romantic one, was radically different in the sense that I interpreted it as a piece one would play to narrate a great, large-scale battle. That was why I became confused as to which was which: the Classical one sounded like the more fanciful elements of Romantic music, and the Romantic piece sounded like the theatrical score for a war film.
Also, when we debated over which of the three Romantic paintings the musical accompaniment agreed with most, I chose painting B as opposed to the popular A and C. I chose B because the musical piece had an element of fading beauty that I envisioned in painting B. The fact that the color scheme reflected fall, slowly-falling leaves, and the onset of winter, synchronized with the melody of the music perfectly. The pacing told me of what occurred within the painting as well: the slow rhythm revealed a man walking slowly along the red and yellow leaves scattered across the ground; and the intense, sped-up portion foretold the violent winter winds that tore across the landscape. That is why I chose painting B.
Weekly Response #6 (February 21, 2014)
I thought this week’s reading of Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Ilych was going to be boring. Granted, the reading was still boring as hell. However, the themes that were elucidated in the discussions and the presentation were very interesting. I’m glad that we’re moving into the theme of individualism in our readings, as I’m a huge proponent of the individual. Though we did lightly cover the theme when we were examining Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself, we never really went very much in-depth until now.
Monday’s reading of The Communist Manifesto was rather interesting. Before reading it, I had always wondered why Communism was always good in theory, but awful in practice. Now I know the answer: the reason why it’s good in theory is because it’s really vague on how to accomplish its ideals in the real world. That’s why the rise and fall of the USSR was unsurprising. While Marx offered an idea on how society could be better off by establishing a class-less, egalitarian society, he offered little to no methods in which to implement this plan.
Regarding The Death of Ivan Ilych, the themes passed around were rather predictable. It all seems very reminiscent of the old man cliché, like Ebenezer Scrooge, who devotes his entire life to his work, and little else. It’s very likely that Scrooge’s character was inspired by Ivan Ilych. I find myself disliking Ilych, not only because he threw himself wholly into his work, but also because he sought little more than to increase his social standing. I find issue with that kind of living. When we were discussing what we derive purpose from in our life, I heard “religion” and “experience”, and yet I heard no one say “happiness”. It may be grouped into experience, but I think that’s the primary source of meaning in our lives. If we aren’t happy, then why are we living in the first place?
Weekly Response #7 (February 28, 2014)
Reading A Doll’s House this week was really weird. In my freshman Theatre History class we had gone over this play, and never did we delve deep into Ibsen’s deeply-ingrained individualistic tones throughout. We only really covered how the play had feminist themes. Then again, the class also focused on what exactly happened in the play, as opposed to how the actions in the play defined the themes that Ibsen had placed within. Personally, I don’t like this play, but I can appreciate the themes of independence that it projects, especially for a work of its time, and the importance its themes hold to our own American society today.
I found Nora’s character to be aggravating. How did Torvald ever think that this woman would be a fitting mother and wife? Then again, women’s duties back then were simple: cook, clean, have children, and take care of aforementioned children. But seriously, what the hell? I certainly wouldn’t want Nora to be my wife. Actually, now that I think about it more, Nora seems to be the definition of the modern-day woman. She seeks her own employment; she isn’t the default mother; in fact she probably dislikes children, judging from how terrible she was at taking care of them; and she blames men for her problems. Seriously, I could imagine her in this day and age giving a speech to fellow feminists about how Torvald and her father brainwashed her into living by the “patriarchy” and only being able to knock loose the veil placed over her head when Torvald fell into illness. Now, don’t get me wrong: I stand for many of the things that true feminists fight for. I just don’t think I would find Nora to be the best of company. Although she’d be much better than Torvald, that’s for sure.
Weekly Response #8 (March 7, 2014)
This week’s readings on Feminism were pretty good. Especially the Friday readings of The Declaration of Sentiments, The Women’s Bible, and Adam & Eve. The text that made the most sense to me was The Declaration of Sentiments, honestly. The other two were less reasonable in decreasing order, with the Women’s Bible being second and Adam & Eve making the least sense. The Declaration of Sentiments, if anything, taught that changing a single word in an important historical document can change it radically. Just by replacing the phrase “all men are created equal” with “all men and women are created equal” do you eliminate all the guesswork that the more broad areas of the Declaration of Independence. People have argued that when the Founding Fathers drafted this declaration, they inclusively meant both men and women when they wrote “men.” It makes sense to me, because I can see parallels in the Spanish language, oddly enough. Nouns in the Spanish language are gender-sensitive. The Spanish word for “son” is “hijo”, while the Spanish word for “daughter” is “hija”. When referring to a group of boys, the term “hijos” is used. When referring to a group of girls, “hijas” is used. Now, when there is a mixed group of sons and daughters, the default tense for the term is the masculine, “hijos”. This is the parallel I’m seeing when that argument is made. When the term “man” or “men” is used, it could mean a group of both men and women. Anyway, the Women’s Bible, while making a good argument by interpreting the Creation story to support their agenda, is a bad example to use. They’re fighting for women’s rights, but they’re using a text that was created during the olden days, back when Patriarchy was the norm, the ideal, and the example.
Weekly Response #9 (March 21, 2014)
This week’s reading, Heart Of Darkness, I was sort of excited about. I’ve had some past experience with this narrative, but not in the traditional sense. You see, last year, I did a project on the capacity of video games to serve as “moral testers”, experiences that gauge a person’s morality when presented with grey-area issues. One of the video games I used as an example was Spec Ops: The Line. This game is actually based off of Heart of Darkness, but re-tooled for gameplay and modern purposes. The story focuses on Captain Martin Walker, a Delta-Force operative whose job is to investigate the sandstorm-ravaged ruins of Dubai, in search of his former CO, Commander John Konrad. Martin Walker is the equivalent of Marlow, and John Konrad is the parallel of Kurtz. The game draws directly from the book in many ways. It takes the idea of the confusion as to who the savages are: the 33rd Battalion, who was sent in to evacuate Dubai after the storm and ended up occupying the city, or Walker and his squad, whose job was to scout for Konrad’s whereabouts after he went rogue. The game also capitalizes on Marlow’s naïveté in the beginning, with Walker becoming increasingly disenchanted by the consequences of his actions. Having the game’s experience helped me to see that, should this have been a warzone instead of an imperialist colony, Marlow may very well have ended up with PTSD after his affairs in the Congo were over. And Konrad, when you finally see him in person, delivers the most crushing blow directly to the player, a phrase Kurtz could feasibly utter to Marlow: “You’re here because you wanted to feel like something you’re not: a hero.” The game ends with Walker barely surviving, just as Marlow nearly escaped death from crippling illness. A squad of soldiers sent to investigate Walker's disappearance rescues him from the ruins of Dubai. The soldiers ask Walker how he managed to survive the carnage and horror that transpired there. Walker responds in words that could’ve easily come from Marlow’s lips: “Who ever said I did?”
Weekly Response #10 (March 28, 2014)
Last week, I made some connections between Heart of Darkness and its videogame counterpart, Spec Ops: The Line. Now, I’m going to make even more. Yay.
The grim appeal of Heart of Darkness is the massive amount of ambiguity of the themes tossed around? Which is the heart of darkness, Africa or Europe? Did Kurtz go insane because of the Congo, or because of the Company? What did Kurtz mean when he said “The horror! The horror!” There was so much ambiguity in the novel, we had enough firing power to spark debates in class. And this focus on the ambiguity of themes is continued in Spec Ops. For those of you who actually read these (probably none), I know I’m rambling on about the game, but it’s really good and those of you who enjoy shooters should get it.
Walker’s squad is faced with a vast array of heavy-hitting decisions to make throughout the series. And it seems, whatever the player chooses, there is always a cost, and some of the choices made don’t even feel right; they simply propel Walker closer and closer towards damnation. For example, there is a section in which Walker finds The Gate, a massive highway between two towers where a large majority of the 33rd Battalion is stationed. There is no conceivable way to get past all the soldiers for Walker and his two men, but there is an option to use a mortar to fire white phosphorus (a highly controversial explosive device) to obliterate the opposition. Tackling The Gate head-on is beyond suicide, so the only logical choice is to use the mortar. It’s only after Walker has finished annihilating the 33rd that he sees it: 47 dead civilians, scorched to death by the white phosphorus they used. It makes the player wonder, who is the real monster of Dubai: Konrad and the 33rd, who run the country under martial law, or Walker, whose every well-intentioned action leaves a colossal pile of corpses in his wake?
Weekly Response #11 (April 11, 2014)
Although I would’ve preferred to learn from a discussion rather than sit in a museum, I did appreciate the presentation Dafna Kaffman gave us today. It really made me think of why or how artists perceive their work. It certainly made me think twice about why I create my own work, and how my work is perceived by others.
Dafna’s presentation on her own work was very odd, to say the least. I have no doubt that her work would have been better received in Israel than here, but, then again, she did say that the Israeli people had a tradition of forbidding any form of sculpture. Anyway, the fact that I couldn’t read the Hebrew on the embroidered handkerchiefs barred me from really guessing at the meaning behind it, but the translation allowed me to get a rough idea at what is was. Even though Dafna said that most of us would treat the embroidery as images rather than text, I didn’t see it that way at all. If I had to compare it to something, I would say I saw them as gravestones: a profound name to commemorate a person who was taken too soon. And the flowers and the insects that she made around them, to me, almost seem like signs of aging on these “gravestones.” I know she made them because they were indigenous and invasive species in Israel, but not everyone has the same impression from a work of art.
As a side note, I was a bit perturbed by the wolf reliefs. Dafna said the glass furs gave a feel of both softness and danger, but I perceived it much differently. It made me think of the sharp hairs you see on a spider, and it really disgusted me. Aside from that, I liked the pieces overall.
Weekly Response #12 (April 18, 2014)
This week’s reading of Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe was kinda… weird. I had read Achebe’s work before, with his short story Civil Peace. The story is basically about a man who gives up the last of his money in order to protect himself and his family from thieves. It’s deeply moving, honestly, especially the thief leader’s sense of honor and truth. The entire conversation between the man and the thief takes place between the walls of the house, and the thief leader knows from the man’s voice that he is telling the truth. The short story can be found simply by Googling it. Seriously, read it if you have the time.
Anyway, Things Fall Apart was, in truth, somewhat alienating. The concepts, especially the villager’s laws, were all very off-putting and left me confused and slightly angered. For instance, I was a bit roused when Obieraka told the District Commissioner that it was against law for a native to handle the body of a person who committed suicide. They had to contract a foreigner to remove and bury the body. That, to me, spells “cop-out”. These villagers didn’t want to take responsibility for something they had no control over, so they decided to have someone else clean up the mess.
In terms of the final project for the semester, I will be collaborating with Kaitlyn Miner. Throughout the entire semester, there is a constant recurring theme of freedom in the texts that we’ve read. There is the lack of freedom in Ibsen’s A Doll’s House; there is the ambiguity of Gregor’s freedom in Metamorphosis; there is the journey that leads to freedom in the autobiography of Frederick Douglass. Nearly all of the texts have heavy themes around freedom, so we will be using our presentation to map out the progression of freedom throughout the textual history, and what that progression implies.
Chris, freedom is great theme to use for comparison since has been such a major theme of the course. But have you decided what you are going to do for the project? It can't be just a presentation, because we won't have time for everyone to give a substantial presentation during the exam period (though you will be sharing what you have done). Think in terms of something you can turn in. -MH
HONR 203-2 Responses, Spring 2014
Weekly Response #1 (January 10, 2014)
So, finally getting back into the swing of things with the weekly responses… yay.
Anyway, regarding today’s reading on Frederick Douglass, I realized that Douglass made slavery a very real subject very quickly. Just by describing the fact that he had no idea when he was born or what his original name was made me cringe in disbelief; that a man didn’t know a fact that almost every human knows by heart. How would that affect a person, to be unaware of how old they were when everyone around them knew? I can’t even begin to imagine. Also, all the instances that Douglass mentioned in his life as a slave were extremely powerful: seeing his aunt being whipped; his guardian ceasing to teach him how to read.
Douglass was different than the other slaves around him, that much was clear. Where others paled at the thought of running away, Douglass didn’t hesitate. Running away back then held a lot of danger. Even after the slave escaped from the plantation, they could still be caught up north, or even tricked back into slavery after their freedom was purchased. It took Douglass a great amount of courage (and wit, for that matter) to take the first step.
Finally, I’ll close with my own personal thoughts on this piece that we examined. It is difficult to be free. If a man binds himself with chains of faith, law, or otherwise, he finds that his life is easy. It is easy to relinquish control to another force, and simply follow what places the force takes him to. Freedom is a burden; every action he takes is a choice, and choices often leave doubts and niggling worries in the recesses of his mind. But freedom is worth pursuing. Why? Because freedom is what makes us unique.
Weekly Response #2 (January 17, 2014)
Well, color me surprised. The themes at which I was hinting at in my previous response were explained in full this week, with the tale of the Grand Inquisitor. It really makes me happy to see a bold author explore a topic that I find to be very worth discussing. The dialogue we had in class was well worth the amount of time it took to read the passage. In regards to the tale, I found it very interesting. It really made me wonder what kind of things were going on when the author decided to write this. What possessed him to depict the Church as the enemy, as servants of the devil. Sure, before there were plenty of examples of clergymen and holy men corrupted by the power of the Church office they occupied. However, this text differs from the others because the Grand Inquisitor is not interested in power, at least not as much as ones before him. He is interested in fulfilling the devil’s work by providing mankind with earthly bread; miracle, mystery, and authority; and universal unity. In his interrogation of Jesus the GI orders him to remain quiet, for he tells him that he cannot simply add more to what has already been said. Jesus cannot change what he has already laid out in Scripture. I find it fitting that Jesus remains silent. He doesn’t have to say anything to affect the GI’s thinking. By that simple action, by a simple kiss, he acknowledged the GI’s freedom to believe and to do what he believes. It reminds the reader that the GI is still free, despite all his talk about taking away freedom in exchange for happiness. Maybe it is a sign to the reader that the GI is not truly happy, and seeks to use his power to ensure that no individual under his influence suffers what he suffers.
Weekly Response #3 (January 24, 2014)
Reading through Faust this week has me excited. I knew that when we went over the syllabus I knew this would be the highlight of the semester, and I haven’t been disappointed. I’ve always been fascinated by the story of Faust, and the struggles he endures over the course of the play.
First of all, I didn’t like the actor choices for my group’s interpretation of the first scene. Leonardo DiCaprio, no matter how good of an actor he is, is not the right fit for Faust. And neither is Heath Ledger a good fit for the earth spirit that he summons. Joseph Gordon-Levitt was the only sensible choice for Wagner, though. If it was up to me, the casting would have gone as follows:
Faust- Bill Nighy
Earth Spirit- Ron Perlman
Wagner-Joseph Gordon-Levitt
Moving on, today’s discussion was the most revealing about Faust’s motivations and dreams. When making the deal with Mephistopheles (who would be played by Anthony Hopkins, if I were calling the shots), Faust talks about how he wants the demon to take his soul if ever he finds fulfillment or sinks into complacency. He knows that if he reaches either of those points, there’s no going back. Fulfillment is the end game for Faust, as it is for many of us. He knows that as soon as he achieves happiness, if he ever does, he wants to die soon after, so that he won’t lose it. Also, when he discusses his motivations to Wagner he reveals his “two-souls”: one who longs towards the earth, the other who pines for the heavenly, what lies beyond this earth; that’s why he is so fixated with the sun and the moon. And the parallels one could make between Faust and Icarus are many. I can only imagine what will happen when Faust’s wings inevitably burn up...
Weekly Response #4 (January 31, 2014)
This week’s discussion on Faust and other Romantic works is jam-packed full of things to discuss. Even though I missed a class this week (which I’m sincerely sorry about), there’s still plenty to talk about.
First, in terms of Monday’s discussion… I should have known Faust’s conflict would’ve come from a woman. I should’ve known. Faust sees Gretchen passing by, and he falls in lust (not love, obviously). And Mephistopheles just makes it worse by telling Faust to pursue Gretchen, even if Faust doing so would possibly endanger the terms of the contract that they made. The interactions between Faust and Mephistopheles make you wonder which of them is truly the one in control. Many in the class remarked at how cunning and tricky Mephistopheles was, and I wholeheartedly agree with them. Mephistopheles, while a demon, actually has very little power. He cannot do many things for himself, so it’s necessary that he develops people skills and becomes a being of great charisma. That’s how he’s able to make a great many people do his deeds for him: in many respects he’s like Tom Sawyer, convincing others to do his work while he reaps the benefits.
Also, we talked about why Mephistopheles is such a funny, relatable character in the story. Part of his personality links to his cunning and his ability to persuade others to do his bidding, but it also comes down to playing both sides equally. I don’t know if it’s just me, but I like it when I can sympathize with the villain as well as the hero. This duality of sympathy gives the feeling of uncertainty and creates conflict within the mind of the person. I think Goethe at least marginally made Mephistopheles a likable character because he wanted to add depth and complexity to what would have otherwise been a very static character.
Weekly Response #5 (February 7, 2014)
This week’s examination of Romantic-era music had me feeling good, even better than usual, because I can understand the dichotomy between Classical and Romantic much better when I can hear it. The exercise in which we listened to samples of both eras had me in a bit of a fix, though, because when I hear the word “Romantic” I instantly think of the theme from Romeo & Juliet (also one of the samples played in class). This sample clashed with the Romantic piece that was played alongside the Classical piece. I should have realized that the Romantic era isn’t just about lovey-dovey stuff, as clearly evidenced by the dark subject matter that Faust encompasses. The first piece, the Classical one, I interpreted as having a very celebratory sound, almost as if it would be played to scenes of people frolicking through a field or something. The second piece, the Romantic one, was radically different in the sense that I interpreted it as a piece one would play to narrate a great, large-scale battle. That was why I became confused as to which was which: the Classical one sounded like the more fanciful elements of Romantic music, and the Romantic piece sounded like the theatrical score for a war film.
Also, when we debated over which of the three Romantic paintings the musical accompaniment agreed with most, I chose painting B as opposed to the popular A and C. I chose B because the musical piece had an element of fading beauty that I envisioned in painting B. The fact that the color scheme reflected fall, slowly-falling leaves, and the onset of winter, synchronized with the melody of the music perfectly. The pacing told me of what occurred within the painting as well: the slow rhythm revealed a man walking slowly along the red and yellow leaves scattered across the ground; and the intense, sped-up portion foretold the violent winter winds that tore across the landscape. That is why I chose painting B.
Weekly Response #6 (February 21, 2014)
I thought this week’s reading of Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Ilych was going to be boring. Granted, the reading was still boring as hell. However, the themes that were elucidated in the discussions and the presentation were very interesting. I’m glad that we’re moving into the theme of individualism in our readings, as I’m a huge proponent of the individual. Though we did lightly cover the theme when we were examining Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself, we never really went very much in-depth until now.
Monday’s reading of The Communist Manifesto was rather interesting. Before reading it, I had always wondered why Communism was always good in theory, but awful in practice. Now I know the answer: the reason why it’s good in theory is because it’s really vague on how to accomplish its ideals in the real world. That’s why the rise and fall of the USSR was unsurprising. While Marx offered an idea on how society could be better off by establishing a class-less, egalitarian society, he offered little to no methods in which to implement this plan.
Regarding The Death of Ivan Ilych, the themes passed around were rather predictable. It all seems very reminiscent of the old man cliché, like Ebenezer Scrooge, who devotes his entire life to his work, and little else. It’s very likely that Scrooge’s character was inspired by Ivan Ilych. I find myself disliking Ilych, not only because he threw himself wholly into his work, but also because he sought little more than to increase his social standing. I find issue with that kind of living. When we were discussing what we derive purpose from in our life, I heard “religion” and “experience”, and yet I heard no one say “happiness”. It may be grouped into experience, but I think that’s the primary source of meaning in our lives. If we aren’t happy, then why are we living in the first place?
Weekly Response #7 (February 28, 2014)
Reading A Doll’s House this week was really weird. In my freshman Theatre History class we had gone over this play, and never did we delve deep into Ibsen’s deeply-ingrained individualistic tones throughout. We only really covered how the play had feminist themes. Then again, the class also focused on what exactly happened in the play, as opposed to how the actions in the play defined the themes that Ibsen had placed within. Personally, I don’t like this play, but I can appreciate the themes of independence that it projects, especially for a work of its time, and the importance its themes hold to our own American society today.
I found Nora’s character to be aggravating. How did Torvald ever think that this woman would be a fitting mother and wife? Then again, women’s duties back then were simple: cook, clean, have children, and take care of aforementioned children. But seriously, what the hell? I certainly wouldn’t want Nora to be my wife. Actually, now that I think about it more, Nora seems to be the definition of the modern-day woman. She seeks her own employment; she isn’t the default mother; in fact she probably dislikes children, judging from how terrible she was at taking care of them; and she blames men for her problems. Seriously, I could imagine her in this day and age giving a speech to fellow feminists about how Torvald and her father brainwashed her into living by the “patriarchy” and only being able to knock loose the veil placed over her head when Torvald fell into illness. Now, don’t get me wrong: I stand for many of the things that true feminists fight for. I just don’t think I would find Nora to be the best of company. Although she’d be much better than Torvald, that’s for sure.
Weekly Response #8 (March 7, 2014)
This week’s readings on Feminism were pretty good. Especially the Friday readings of The Declaration of Sentiments, The Women’s Bible, and Adam & Eve. The text that made the most sense to me was The Declaration of Sentiments, honestly. The other two were less reasonable in decreasing order, with the Women’s Bible being second and Adam & Eve making the least sense. The Declaration of Sentiments, if anything, taught that changing a single word in an important historical document can change it radically. Just by replacing the phrase “all men are created equal” with “all men and women are created equal” do you eliminate all the guesswork that the more broad areas of the Declaration of Independence. People have argued that when the Founding Fathers drafted this declaration, they inclusively meant both men and women when they wrote “men.” It makes sense to me, because I can see parallels in the Spanish language, oddly enough. Nouns in the Spanish language are gender-sensitive. The Spanish word for “son” is “hijo”, while the Spanish word for “daughter” is “hija”. When referring to a group of boys, the term “hijos” is used. When referring to a group of girls, “hijas” is used. Now, when there is a mixed group of sons and daughters, the default tense for the term is the masculine, “hijos”. This is the parallel I’m seeing when that argument is made. When the term “man” or “men” is used, it could mean a group of both men and women. Anyway, the Women’s Bible, while making a good argument by interpreting the Creation story to support their agenda, is a bad example to use. They’re fighting for women’s rights, but they’re using a text that was created during the olden days, back when Patriarchy was the norm, the ideal, and the example.
Weekly Response #9 (March 21, 2014)
This week’s reading, Heart Of Darkness, I was sort of excited about. I’ve had some past experience with this narrative, but not in the traditional sense. You see, last year, I did a project on the capacity of video games to serve as “moral testers”, experiences that gauge a person’s morality when presented with grey-area issues. One of the video games I used as an example was Spec Ops: The Line. This game is actually based off of Heart of Darkness, but re-tooled for gameplay and modern purposes. The story focuses on Captain Martin Walker, a Delta-Force operative whose job is to investigate the sandstorm-ravaged ruins of Dubai, in search of his former CO, Commander John Konrad. Martin Walker is the equivalent of Marlow, and John Konrad is the parallel of Kurtz. The game draws directly from the book in many ways. It takes the idea of the confusion as to who the savages are: the 33rd Battalion, who was sent in to evacuate Dubai after the storm and ended up occupying the city, or Walker and his squad, whose job was to scout for Konrad’s whereabouts after he went rogue. The game also capitalizes on Marlow’s naïveté in the beginning, with Walker becoming increasingly disenchanted by the consequences of his actions. Having the game’s experience helped me to see that, should this have been a warzone instead of an imperialist colony, Marlow may very well have ended up with PTSD after his affairs in the Congo were over. And Konrad, when you finally see him in person, delivers the most crushing blow directly to the player, a phrase Kurtz could feasibly utter to Marlow: “You’re here because you wanted to feel like something you’re not: a hero.” The game ends with Walker barely surviving, just as Marlow nearly escaped death from crippling illness. A squad of soldiers sent to investigate Walker's disappearance rescues him from the ruins of Dubai. The soldiers ask Walker how he managed to survive the carnage and horror that transpired there. Walker responds in words that could’ve easily come from Marlow’s lips: “Who ever said I did?”
Weekly Response #10 (March 28, 2014)
Last week, I made some connections between Heart of Darkness and its videogame counterpart, Spec Ops: The Line. Now, I’m going to make even more. Yay.
The grim appeal of Heart of Darkness is the massive amount of ambiguity of the themes tossed around? Which is the heart of darkness, Africa or Europe? Did Kurtz go insane because of the Congo, or because of the Company? What did Kurtz mean when he said “The horror! The horror!” There was so much ambiguity in the novel, we had enough firing power to spark debates in class. And this focus on the ambiguity of themes is continued in Spec Ops. For those of you who actually read these (probably none), I know I’m rambling on about the game, but it’s really good and those of you who enjoy shooters should get it.
Walker’s squad is faced with a vast array of heavy-hitting decisions to make throughout the series. And it seems, whatever the player chooses, there is always a cost, and some of the choices made don’t even feel right; they simply propel Walker closer and closer towards damnation. For example, there is a section in which Walker finds The Gate, a massive highway between two towers where a large majority of the 33rd Battalion is stationed. There is no conceivable way to get past all the soldiers for Walker and his two men, but there is an option to use a mortar to fire white phosphorus (a highly controversial explosive device) to obliterate the opposition. Tackling The Gate head-on is beyond suicide, so the only logical choice is to use the mortar. It’s only after Walker has finished annihilating the 33rd that he sees it: 47 dead civilians, scorched to death by the white phosphorus they used. It makes the player wonder, who is the real monster of Dubai: Konrad and the 33rd, who run the country under martial law, or Walker, whose every well-intentioned action leaves a colossal pile of corpses in his wake?
Weekly Response #11 (April 11, 2014)
Although I would’ve preferred to learn from a discussion rather than sit in a museum, I did appreciate the presentation Dafna Kaffman gave us today. It really made me think of why or how artists perceive their work. It certainly made me think twice about why I create my own work, and how my work is perceived by others.
Dafna’s presentation on her own work was very odd, to say the least. I have no doubt that her work would have been better received in Israel than here, but, then again, she did say that the Israeli people had a tradition of forbidding any form of sculpture. Anyway, the fact that I couldn’t read the Hebrew on the embroidered handkerchiefs barred me from really guessing at the meaning behind it, but the translation allowed me to get a rough idea at what is was. Even though Dafna said that most of us would treat the embroidery as images rather than text, I didn’t see it that way at all. If I had to compare it to something, I would say I saw them as gravestones: a profound name to commemorate a person who was taken too soon. And the flowers and the insects that she made around them, to me, almost seem like signs of aging on these “gravestones.” I know she made them because they were indigenous and invasive species in Israel, but not everyone has the same impression from a work of art.
As a side note, I was a bit perturbed by the wolf reliefs. Dafna said the glass furs gave a feel of both softness and danger, but I perceived it much differently. It made me think of the sharp hairs you see on a spider, and it really disgusted me. Aside from that, I liked the pieces overall.
Weekly Response #12 (April 18, 2014)
This week’s reading of Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe was kinda… weird. I had read Achebe’s work before, with his short story Civil Peace. The story is basically about a man who gives up the last of his money in order to protect himself and his family from thieves. It’s deeply moving, honestly, especially the thief leader’s sense of honor and truth. The entire conversation between the man and the thief takes place between the walls of the house, and the thief leader knows from the man’s voice that he is telling the truth. The short story can be found simply by Googling it. Seriously, read it if you have the time.
Anyway, Things Fall Apart was, in truth, somewhat alienating. The concepts, especially the villager’s laws, were all very off-putting and left me confused and slightly angered. For instance, I was a bit roused when Obieraka told the District Commissioner that it was against law for a native to handle the body of a person who committed suicide. They had to contract a foreigner to remove and bury the body. That, to me, spells “cop-out”. These villagers didn’t want to take responsibility for something they had no control over, so they decided to have someone else clean up the mess.
In terms of the final project for the semester, I will be collaborating with Kaitlyn Miner. Throughout the entire semester, there is a constant recurring theme of freedom in the texts that we’ve read. There is the lack of freedom in Ibsen’s A Doll’s House; there is the ambiguity of Gregor’s freedom in Metamorphosis; there is the journey that leads to freedom in the autobiography of Frederick Douglass. Nearly all of the texts have heavy themes around freedom, so we will be using our presentation to map out the progression of freedom throughout the textual history, and what that progression implies.
Chris, freedom is great theme to use for comparison since has been such a major theme of the course. But have you decided what you are going to do for the project? It can't be just a presentation, because we won't have time for everyone to give a substantial presentation during the exam period (though you will be sharing what you have done). Think in terms of something you can turn in. -MH