The friendly, philosophical, interchangeable, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, Hamlet’s life-long friends, are condemned to death by the very man they thought they could trust. What the Hell, Robert? What the Hell? (Please excuse the Hemingway allusion. It’s for you, Schooner.) Does friendship mean nothing to Hamlet? Or is he merely so concentrated on revenge that he focuses on nothing else? (A la Edmond Dantes of Alexandre Dumas’s The Count of Monte Cristo) In the course of the play, it is established that Guildenstern and Rosencrantz are good friends of the Danish prince. And yet, Hamlet willingly and unflinchingly writes his friends off to death without a second glance. Seriously, Hamlet? It has been argued by many that Rosenstern and Guildencrantz deserved their terrible fate. After all, they sided with the corrupt king to become spies against their friend. They are a symbol of the corrupting power of the court. But really, can we blame them? It’s not like they were doing anything….evil. Or really that terrible at all! They were merely following the orders of the king so that they might uncover the truth behind Hamlet’s madness and, by doing so, help cure their childhood friend. Hamlet suspects the two have “sided” with Claudius from the beginning and, upon realizing his suspicions are true, decides first to write them from his life and then, suddenly, end their lives with a letter! (Hamlet, like a Sith, seems to deal in absolutes.) What does this reveal about Hamlet’s character? In what mental state must a man be to have no regard for the lives of, if not friends, acquaintances? Obviously, not the correct one. We know that Hamlet’s a bit mad, however, that does not excuse him from killing R & G. One might pardon Hamlet for wishing to kill Claudius. One might also even pardon Hamlet for ending Polonius’s life, for he truly did not mean to kill Ophelia’s father. (Even though stabbing might NOT be the best way to discover what’s behind a curtain. I have discovered that simply asking for a name BEFORE stabbing can avert potentially embarrassing murders.) But one can simply not write off Hamlet’s murder of Guildencrantz and Rosenstern. No matter how awesome Hamlet might be, this murder puts a serious spot (Out, damned spot!) on his record.
The fact that the Danish prince ends the lives of two innocent people, people he once called friends, cannot be overlooked in a discussion of his character. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern become merely pawns in Hamlet’s elaborate plan of revenge. They are not with him; they are against him. They must be destroyed. In this way, Guildenstern and Rosencrantz are tragic. Their fates are out of their control. They are swept away by actions they don’t understand. And, sadly, they meet their end because of a depressed prince.
RIP Rosencrantz and Guildenstern
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
On Unfavourable Characters and Likeability
First and foremost, I would like to apologize to all commenters for my late posting. The blog completely escaped my mind. With my first English class on Tuesday, I don’t really tend to think of it when contemplating homework due for Monday. I apologize for any inconvenience.
Most of the discussion in class has resolved around which of the characters in Antigone is the more likable. However, looking over the top choices -- Creon, Antigone, Ismene -- it is difficult to see a clear winner. We’ve got Creon, some crazed tyrant who has led himself to believe that he *is* the state. Antigone, a woman who is solely led by her own stubborn will and, while admirable in her own way, is so narrow-minded she shuns all who might disagree with her. And Ismene, a sister who cannot stand up for her own beliefs and is tossed aside by everyone when they see she is not willing to do what it takes. Were the house to be broken into at this very moment by a well-read robber and were he to put a gun to my head and thrust a copy of Sophocles’s Antigone into my hands and were he then to force me to choose the character I liked most or surrender my life to him…..………I’d choose Ismene. He’d then set the gun down and we’d have a lovely chat comparing and contrasting the differing themes of Oedipus Rex and Antigone over tea and scones. But I digress.
The odd thing is, it has become apparent that we don’t *need* to like the characters in a story. One can enjoy a piece of literature or drama without feeling any sympathy at all for any of the characters. Sure, it definitely *helps* if the reader can identify with the protagonist or even a secondary character but it seems not to be essential for a well-written work of literary genius. Another example of use of less than favourable characters is Emily Brontë ’s, Wuthering Heights. I mean, who *actually* likes Heathcliff or Catherine? But despite this, the novel is still a masterpiece of English literature.
Granted, it’s a rather odd thought. How can one commit to a piece of literature, spend so much time reading and analyzing it, and *not* dislike spending the time required to do so with such annoying characters? Yet, I can easily say in the same breath that I dislike every character found within Antigone and yet I thoroughly enjoy the play. It seems that themes trump characters. Not in every circumstance, of course. But when in the hands of an extremely skilled author or playwright, a handful of disagreeable characters can be molded into a fantastic, timeless story.
(Alright, 8 am on Monday morning isn’t bad! Plus, if there are any commenters who have forgotten, here’s an untouched blog entry!)
Most of the discussion in class has resolved around which of the characters in Antigone is the more likable. However, looking over the top choices -- Creon, Antigone, Ismene -- it is difficult to see a clear winner. We’ve got Creon, some crazed tyrant who has led himself to believe that he *is* the state. Antigone, a woman who is solely led by her own stubborn will and, while admirable in her own way, is so narrow-minded she shuns all who might disagree with her. And Ismene, a sister who cannot stand up for her own beliefs and is tossed aside by everyone when they see she is not willing to do what it takes. Were the house to be broken into at this very moment by a well-read robber and were he to put a gun to my head and thrust a copy of Sophocles’s Antigone into my hands and were he then to force me to choose the character I liked most or surrender my life to him…..………I’d choose Ismene. He’d then set the gun down and we’d have a lovely chat comparing and contrasting the differing themes of Oedipus Rex and Antigone over tea and scones. But I digress.
The odd thing is, it has become apparent that we don’t *need* to like the characters in a story. One can enjoy a piece of literature or drama without feeling any sympathy at all for any of the characters. Sure, it definitely *helps* if the reader can identify with the protagonist or even a secondary character but it seems not to be essential for a well-written work of literary genius. Another example of use of less than favourable characters is Emily Brontë ’s, Wuthering Heights. I mean, who *actually* likes Heathcliff or Catherine? But despite this, the novel is still a masterpiece of English literature.
Granted, it’s a rather odd thought. How can one commit to a piece of literature, spend so much time reading and analyzing it, and *not* dislike spending the time required to do so with such annoying characters? Yet, I can easily say in the same breath that I dislike every character found within Antigone and yet I thoroughly enjoy the play. It seems that themes trump characters. Not in every circumstance, of course. But when in the hands of an extremely skilled author or playwright, a handful of disagreeable characters can be molded into a fantastic, timeless story.
(Alright, 8 am on Monday morning isn’t bad! Plus, if there are any commenters who have forgotten, here’s an untouched blog entry!)
Monday, January 12, 2009
On Tolstoy and Condemnation
It is human nature to fear to death. As I stated both in class and in my Senior Speech, necrophobia is number one on most lists of Americans’ most popular fears. With the exception of Gerasim, basically every single character within Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Ilyich refuses to face his or her own mortality. Why is this? Of course, death is frightening. I fear It as well. What reason do we have not to fear it? It’s inevitable. We are unable to escape its grasp. I can easily relate to both Ivan’s and Peter’s fears.
And yet, the story seems to promote the acceptance of death and those who have the ability to look upon their own mortality without fear. Why should this fear of death be seen as a negative personality trait? I would condemn the rest of the characters far more for their narcissism, materialism, and their mesh of falsity they construct then for their simple fear of the unknown. Though, perhaps this is what Tolstoy is condemning: The fact that the characters ignore death (just as they ignore the severity of Ivan’s illness) despite the fact that it is inevitable. Instead of at least *trying* to come to terms with death (if they succeed is inconsequential), they ignore it all together. Perhaps this refusal to admit the inevitable is their flaw. Even I can admit -- most of the time, anyway -- that we will all, at some time or another, reach the end of our lives. I try not to ignore that fact.
Yet, though titled The Death of Ivan Ilyich, the novella revolves around the life he and his contemporaries led. It was not how he died, nor how he feared death, but the fact that he wasted his life purely with trivial matters that is the focus of the story. Perhaps this fear of death only comes from the realization one has not lived his or her life properly. Perhaps this is why no character can face it. Because no character can face the fact that his or her life has been lived poorly. Despite their riches and their positions, they are unable to look upon death because they cannot look upon their wasted lives.
In the end, it seems, Tolstoy’s novella about necrophobia seems not to be about the fear of death at all, but about the fear of having lived a life that was not worth the pain.
P.S. I would merely like to add that I rather enjoyed the thinning of the chapters that occurred throughout the novella as both the reader and Ivan traveled closer and closer to his death. It gave me the feeling that not only was time quickening, but also that time was running out.
And yet, the story seems to promote the acceptance of death and those who have the ability to look upon their own mortality without fear. Why should this fear of death be seen as a negative personality trait? I would condemn the rest of the characters far more for their narcissism, materialism, and their mesh of falsity they construct then for their simple fear of the unknown. Though, perhaps this is what Tolstoy is condemning: The fact that the characters ignore death (just as they ignore the severity of Ivan’s illness) despite the fact that it is inevitable. Instead of at least *trying* to come to terms with death (if they succeed is inconsequential), they ignore it all together. Perhaps this refusal to admit the inevitable is their flaw. Even I can admit -- most of the time, anyway -- that we will all, at some time or another, reach the end of our lives. I try not to ignore that fact.
Yet, though titled The Death of Ivan Ilyich, the novella revolves around the life he and his contemporaries led. It was not how he died, nor how he feared death, but the fact that he wasted his life purely with trivial matters that is the focus of the story. Perhaps this fear of death only comes from the realization one has not lived his or her life properly. Perhaps this is why no character can face it. Because no character can face the fact that his or her life has been lived poorly. Despite their riches and their positions, they are unable to look upon death because they cannot look upon their wasted lives.
In the end, it seems, Tolstoy’s novella about necrophobia seems not to be about the fear of death at all, but about the fear of having lived a life that was not worth the pain.
P.S. I would merely like to add that I rather enjoyed the thinning of the chapters that occurred throughout the novella as both the reader and Ivan traveled closer and closer to his death. It gave me the feeling that not only was time quickening, but also that time was running out.
Monday, December 8, 2008
On Literary Criticism and Self-Inflicted Questions
“Three Ways of Going Wrong: Kipling, Conrad, Coetzee” by Douglass Kerr comes to some interesting conclusions and constructs connections which I would not have noticed had they not been pointed out to me. The connection between Kurtz and the Magistrate, for example, would have gone completely unnoticed were I not to have read this article. Also, his discussion of the outlaw and the lawman was particularly interesting.
However, I was less intrigued by the article than by the questions that suddenly and inexplicably jumped into my mind while reading the criticism. For some reason, I began musing upon the ideas of how the empire -- and indeed civilization and society itself -- is portrayed within the two novels: “Heart of Darkness” and “Waiting for the Barbarians.” In what ways is the empire viewed in each of the novels? (Well, one’s a novella.) It seems to me that in “Heart of Darkness” society and civilization are viewed as being beneficial to Europeans. For when Kurtz wanders too far from the empire’s tight grip, he looses himself in the savagery and darkness that surrounds him. His escape from society leads to his downfall. However, in “Waiting for the Barbarians,” Coetzee remarks upon the corrupting and poisoning influences of empirical life. The empire is seen as something evil, something unfeeling, something ignorant of the peaceful lives the barbarians lead outside the grasp of “civilization.” In fact, in Coetzee’s work, are not the citizens of the empire more barbaric than those who live far from their walls and regulations? For two literary works that are so similar in subject matter, it came as quite a surprise to think upon how the two differ.
And now I begin to wonder: “Why?” How can two books with similar themes, characters, and commentary have conflicting ideas on the benefits of empire? I have yet to come up with a satisfactory answer.
Overall, though, I thought the criticism was well worth reading. (This, despite the fact that I am now agonizing over my own questions.)
I hope you have a lovely winter break.
However, I was less intrigued by the article than by the questions that suddenly and inexplicably jumped into my mind while reading the criticism. For some reason, I began musing upon the ideas of how the empire -- and indeed civilization and society itself -- is portrayed within the two novels: “Heart of Darkness” and “Waiting for the Barbarians.” In what ways is the empire viewed in each of the novels? (Well, one’s a novella.) It seems to me that in “Heart of Darkness” society and civilization are viewed as being beneficial to Europeans. For when Kurtz wanders too far from the empire’s tight grip, he looses himself in the savagery and darkness that surrounds him. His escape from society leads to his downfall. However, in “Waiting for the Barbarians,” Coetzee remarks upon the corrupting and poisoning influences of empirical life. The empire is seen as something evil, something unfeeling, something ignorant of the peaceful lives the barbarians lead outside the grasp of “civilization.” In fact, in Coetzee’s work, are not the citizens of the empire more barbaric than those who live far from their walls and regulations? For two literary works that are so similar in subject matter, it came as quite a surprise to think upon how the two differ.
And now I begin to wonder: “Why?” How can two books with similar themes, characters, and commentary have conflicting ideas on the benefits of empire? I have yet to come up with a satisfactory answer.
Overall, though, I thought the criticism was well worth reading. (This, despite the fact that I am now agonizing over my own questions.)
I hope you have a lovely winter break.
Monday, November 24, 2008
On Style and First Impressions
Reading J.M. Coetzee’s Waiting for the Barbarians is quite the different experience from reading Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. The fact that the novel is written in the present voice is very interesting. The reader witnesses the action as it happens -- quite unlike the memories being retold in Heart of Darkness. As discussed in class, this prevents most foreshadowing and gives the reader an eerie uncertainty of what might happen later on in the novel.
Waiting for the Barbarians reads very quickly. Most of the sentences are short and to the point -- which is a far cry from the lengthy, flowery sentences of Conrad’s, who seems to delight in listing adjective after adjective.
This is, indeed, another detail which differentiates the two works of literature: Coetzee’s lack of long descriptive passages. Sure, there are small portions of description, however, the action is always moving forward. Each sentence and phrase seems to hold something of significance to either setting, character, plot, or theme. These full sentences make it extremely unbeneficial to become distracted while reading the novel, or to merely skim over lines. Missing a sentence could cause the reader to miss crucial bits of information and leave him or her lost within the plot. (Wait…. What just happened? When did he leave the granary? And where did those people come from?)
The text is also broken up frequently into portions of a few pages by pairs of asterisks, which allow the reader frequent breaks and gives the illusion of an even faster progression through the novel.
Overall, though, I seem to be enjoying Waiting for the Barbarians quite a bit. I am very much a fan of the asterisk breaks as mentioned in the previous paragraph. (I was never one for long chapters. They make my progress seem much slower.) I look forward to the completion of the text and its discussion in class. (319)
Happy Thanksgiving (Break)!
Waiting for the Barbarians reads very quickly. Most of the sentences are short and to the point -- which is a far cry from the lengthy, flowery sentences of Conrad’s, who seems to delight in listing adjective after adjective.
This is, indeed, another detail which differentiates the two works of literature: Coetzee’s lack of long descriptive passages. Sure, there are small portions of description, however, the action is always moving forward. Each sentence and phrase seems to hold something of significance to either setting, character, plot, or theme. These full sentences make it extremely unbeneficial to become distracted while reading the novel, or to merely skim over lines. Missing a sentence could cause the reader to miss crucial bits of information and leave him or her lost within the plot. (Wait…. What just happened? When did he leave the granary? And where did those people come from?)
The text is also broken up frequently into portions of a few pages by pairs of asterisks, which allow the reader frequent breaks and gives the illusion of an even faster progression through the novel.
Overall, though, I seem to be enjoying Waiting for the Barbarians quite a bit. I am very much a fan of the asterisk breaks as mentioned in the previous paragraph. (I was never one for long chapters. They make my progress seem much slower.) I look forward to the completion of the text and its discussion in class. (319)
Happy Thanksgiving (Break)!
Monday, November 17, 2008
On "To Boldly Go" and Heart of Darkness
Notes on Linda J. Dryden's "To Boldly Go": Heart of Darkness and Popular Culture
-Heart of Darkness is a novella that has not yet been "closed" because the story is still relevant in the 21st Century.
-The story continues to be re birthed over and over again through parodies and references in popular culture.
-There is "a broader interdependence between popular culture and some of our most valued literary products."
-Without Heart of Darkness, either Apocalypse Now would never have been made, or it would have been a completely different film. Less powerful. Less enduring.
-Did Conrad's work continue to be popular because of its lasting literary merit? Or was it Coppola's Apocalypse Now that renewed interest in the novella?
-"In a sense, a kind of two-way process is enacted here whereby literature is influencing the more populist media of the cinema, which itself is reflecting that literature back at an audience who subsequently find a new relevance in a 'old masterpiece' "
-"High" culture, as it is called, seems to be seeping into popular culture which blurs the dividing line between the two.
-Star Trek uses the same themes and plot points that Heart of Darkness uses. Africans are replaced with alien species, however, both raise the same questions regarding race relations and colonialism.
-Popular culture cannot exist without "high" culture to draw upon.
-"The point is that without the elite products of our culture, such as literature, popular culture itself would be impoverished, lacking in cultural reference points on which to base its narratives."
-Heart of Darkness is apparently "one of the most frequently quoted texts within popular culture and media."
"It has become part of our cultural heritage."
-Heart of Darkness is a novella that has not yet been "closed" because the story is still relevant in the 21st Century.
-The story continues to be re birthed over and over again through parodies and references in popular culture.
-There is "a broader interdependence between popular culture and some of our most valued literary products."
-Without Heart of Darkness, either Apocalypse Now would never have been made, or it would have been a completely different film. Less powerful. Less enduring.
-Did Conrad's work continue to be popular because of its lasting literary merit? Or was it Coppola's Apocalypse Now that renewed interest in the novella?
-"In a sense, a kind of two-way process is enacted here whereby literature is influencing the more populist media of the cinema, which itself is reflecting that literature back at an audience who subsequently find a new relevance in a 'old masterpiece' "
-"High" culture, as it is called, seems to be seeping into popular culture which blurs the dividing line between the two.
-Star Trek uses the same themes and plot points that Heart of Darkness uses. Africans are replaced with alien species, however, both raise the same questions regarding race relations and colonialism.
-Popular culture cannot exist without "high" culture to draw upon.
-"The point is that without the elite products of our culture, such as literature, popular culture itself would be impoverished, lacking in cultural reference points on which to base its narratives."
-Heart of Darkness is apparently "one of the most frequently quoted texts within popular culture and media."
"It has become part of our cultural heritage."
Monday, November 3, 2008
On Closure and Stability
While the last section of The Sound and the Fury does not close the novel definitely -- many ends are left open and possibility for the future still remains -- one aspect of the section does help give the novel a base and some form of closure. This device is, of course, the use of a third-person narrative. By leaving behind the stream-of-consciousness method used in the first three sections, William Faulkner creates a foundation which offers the reader a small portion of -- if one can say this in regard to the Compson family. -- stability. Abandoning the chaos and disorder of the minds of the Compson men, the reader is finally able to see the Compson family in a third-person panorama. By disengaging the reader with the characters, Faulkner allows the reader to look back over the novel as a whole and put together -- within his/her own mind -- the entire tragedy of the Compson family. The reader sees each event in chronological order, piecing together the story bit by bit and finally is able to see the entire arch of the novel. In this way, the last sections offers closure -- closure that the novel would indeed lack were the story to end with yet more twisted memories. (212)
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