Despite initially liking Guitar, I haven't liked him much at all lately. Now that I've read chapter 13 though, I don't dislike him quite as much.
Even though his speech to Hagar about Milkman didn't help her in the end, he tried. As far as we know, he has never treated women as badly as Milkman used to. Had Guitar been able to help Hagar earlier on, maybe she wouldn't have ended up dead. Yes, he thinks to himself that she is spoiled, stingy, and greedy, but all of this is true. Guitar understands Hagar, and even though he thinks she is spoiled, stingy, and greedy, he also tries to help her. He tries to make her see sense. Yes, he fails, but Pilate and Reba fail too. He is not the only one. Guitar's redeeming characteristic, in my opinion, is his good treatment of women, especially Hagar.
Ultimately, I don't like Guitar very much. I think his ideas about killing white people for every black person that gets killed are crazy. I don't think that's the way he should be taking action. However, even while I hate his actions, I understand the intentions behind them. His intentions make sense to me, and his actions make sense too, because he has a right to be angry. When people are angry, they act irrationally. We've seen this with nearly every character in this book from Hagar to Macon Dead II.
I can't dislike Guitar as much as I did before though. Even though he tried to kill his best friend (who I feel sympathy for, partly because he is the main character) and is involved in the Seven Days, he tries to help those who need it. He really understands Hagar, and that shows his ability to sympathize with people and to care about people. Guitar was able to love and has loved, but he's been hurt by love all throughout his life. It makes sense for him to understand Hagar, and it also makes sense for him to be tough and irrational about killing white people and even trying to kill his best friend.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Friday, December 9, 2011
Flying
"It was a warm dreamy sleep all about flying, about sailing high over the earth. But not with arms stretched out like airplane wings, not shot forward like Superman in a horizontal dive, but floating, cruising, in the relaxed position of a man lying on a couch reading a newspaper. Part of his flight was over the dark sea, but it didn't frighten him because he knew he could not fall. He was alone in the sky, but somebody was applauding him, watching him and applauding. He couldn't see who it was." (Song of Solomon, page 298)
After meeting Guitar for the second time since Guitar has decided to kill him, Milkman goes back to Sweet's house and "[sleeps] the night in her perfect arms." He has just learned why Guitar wants to kill him and has told his friend that he never found any gold. This point is just before the morning when he reconsiders his entire life, and consciously recognizes that he has needed to change.
Flying has been an important image throughout this book, so when I read this passage it struck me. Milkman finally seems at peace. His flight is like "floating, cruising, in the relaxed position of a man lying on a couch reading a newspaper." He imagines someone "watching him and applauding." I would argue that this night marks him really growing from a boy into a man. His flight is easy and relaxed, rather than uneasy and hurried. This idea that he has now really changed is supported the next morning when he consciously realizes it. Maybe this dream about flying is Milkman unconsciously realizing that he has changed.
After meeting Guitar for the second time since Guitar has decided to kill him, Milkman goes back to Sweet's house and "[sleeps] the night in her perfect arms." He has just learned why Guitar wants to kill him and has told his friend that he never found any gold. This point is just before the morning when he reconsiders his entire life, and consciously recognizes that he has needed to change.
Flying has been an important image throughout this book, so when I read this passage it struck me. Milkman finally seems at peace. His flight is like "floating, cruising, in the relaxed position of a man lying on a couch reading a newspaper." He imagines someone "watching him and applauding." I would argue that this night marks him really growing from a boy into a man. His flight is easy and relaxed, rather than uneasy and hurried. This idea that he has now really changed is supported the next morning when he consciously realizes it. Maybe this dream about flying is Milkman unconsciously realizing that he has changed.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Song of Solomon and Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man
"He was as eager and happy as he had ever been in his life."
I think so far, chapter 12 is my favorite in this book. In it, Milkman consciously considers his entire life, his family, and his personality. He realizes that he's changed and reflects on what a jerk he has been. We were talking in class about how we weren't completely sure the change would carry over and how he may not consciously realize he has changed...but this chapter is proof that he has changed and taken note of that change.
As I was reading this chapter and reading through all of Milkman's "revelations" I was reminded of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce, which we read in Coming-of-Age. I remember being kind of disappointed by Portrait because Stephen Dedalus had SO MANY false "coming-of-age" moments. Reading Song of Solomon, I was a bit worried it would turn out similarly to the way Portrait did--leaving plenty to be desired. However, I am loving the way Song of Solomon is turning out. In this chapter, he has completely changed his way of thinking about his family, relationships, and all the women in his life (which is a huge deal considering the sexist ways in which he used to think), and he has also discovered significant information about his family and his past, not by being told creepy perverse stories, but by using his own mind and finding the information himself.
Milkman has finally (at almost 40 years old) grown up from the little boy in between his parents in the car, facing everything behind him but being made uncomfortable by everything he saw that had already happened without his input. Now that he can face his past, find his ancestors, and learn their stories, he has no reason to be scared of the past. Furthermore, when he thinks about the "perverted" part of the past now, it no longer seems perverse. He understand his "weird" mother and his controlling, greedy father. He's not selfish anymore and truly cares about how other people feel--his instinctive remembrance of Hagar when he was about to die has become more than just a passing thought. He now considers her feelings as important and significant, and even more importantly, recognizes his past cruelty toward her.
So the only question now is, will Macon Dead III escape death? Will he die at the hands of his first real friend, or will he be allowed to live a long life, enjoying the benefits of his new, mature personality?
I think so far, chapter 12 is my favorite in this book. In it, Milkman consciously considers his entire life, his family, and his personality. He realizes that he's changed and reflects on what a jerk he has been. We were talking in class about how we weren't completely sure the change would carry over and how he may not consciously realize he has changed...but this chapter is proof that he has changed and taken note of that change.
As I was reading this chapter and reading through all of Milkman's "revelations" I was reminded of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce, which we read in Coming-of-Age. I remember being kind of disappointed by Portrait because Stephen Dedalus had SO MANY false "coming-of-age" moments. Reading Song of Solomon, I was a bit worried it would turn out similarly to the way Portrait did--leaving plenty to be desired. However, I am loving the way Song of Solomon is turning out. In this chapter, he has completely changed his way of thinking about his family, relationships, and all the women in his life (which is a huge deal considering the sexist ways in which he used to think), and he has also discovered significant information about his family and his past, not by being told creepy perverse stories, but by using his own mind and finding the information himself.
Milkman has finally (at almost 40 years old) grown up from the little boy in between his parents in the car, facing everything behind him but being made uncomfortable by everything he saw that had already happened without his input. Now that he can face his past, find his ancestors, and learn their stories, he has no reason to be scared of the past. Furthermore, when he thinks about the "perverted" part of the past now, it no longer seems perverse. He understand his "weird" mother and his controlling, greedy father. He's not selfish anymore and truly cares about how other people feel--his instinctive remembrance of Hagar when he was about to die has become more than just a passing thought. He now considers her feelings as important and significant, and even more importantly, recognizes his past cruelty toward her.
So the only question now is, will Macon Dead III escape death? Will he die at the hands of his first real friend, or will he be allowed to live a long life, enjoying the benefits of his new, mature personality?
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
The Voice of Reason
So far, the only person in Song of Solomon who seems mature and reasonable to me is Pilate. All of the other characters seem to be either far too "young at heart" or are just impossible for me to understand. It seems this has a lot to do with gender--the women generally seem to be the "younger" ones, while the men have control over them and are able to make them "crazy." Let's start with the Dead household: Macon Dead (II) is clearly in control, and is very controlling. I almost understand him, but he just seems so incredibly greedy, abusive, oppressive, and mean. Because of his jealousy complex, he abuses his wife, and therefore abuses his son in an attempt to further abuse his wife (whether he is consciously trying to abuse Ruth is debatable, but maybe it doesn't even matter), he oppresses all of his family members as if they are all very badly-behaved young children, and he is greedy for money and status, which is demonstrated by his crazy attempts to find the gold from the cave.
Now, if we analyze relationships with people outside of the Dead household, we see the same sort of gender dynamic. Milkman is a cowardly jerk in his relationship with Hagar, and although she is older than him, she seems like a child throwing a tantrum when he leaves her. This is entirely Milkman's fault, because he has treated her like something to be ashamed of for years. He has become his father in this respect, because he is emotionally abusing Hagar in the same way that Macon emotionally abuses Ruth. At least Milkman hasn't physically abused Hagar (as far as we know). In this relationship, Milkman is in the power position: he gets to make all the decisions and treat Hagar like a child. Of course, this puts Hagar below him in a very childlike position.
Looking at Corinthians's relationship with Porter draws similar conclusions. Although Corinthians is above Porter status-wise, she is humbled by Porter and must almost literally throw herself at his feet. Porter seems very much like the adult in this situation where she is banging on his window and then lies across the hood of his car, because he allows her to have her "tantrum," then rationally and calmly comforts her, and then gets his way and takes her home with him. This seems to be the most healthy romantic relationship in the book though. Corinthians genuinely cares about Porter and he seems to genuinely care about her. Of course, it is crushed by Macon (and Milkman who is dying to have the power that his father does).
Who keeps their head on throughout all of this? Pilate. Pilate is strong and tall like Macon, and this is a symbol for being just as powerful as a man. She is calm, cool, and rational, even more so than Macon, and gets her way for the benefit of not just herself, but for those she loves. Sure, Pilate is eccentric and a little bit weird, but she is incredibly intelligent. She is also pure--not in a childlike way, but in a non-corrupt way. In this way, she is similar to other women who maintain their childhood and therefore their purity in a sense. Pilate, however, does this in a very adult way. She doesn't become corrupt, power-hungry, and greedy like Macon and Milkman do; she sees the value in human life over the value of a bag of gold. Even though she didn't kill the man in the cave, she took responsibility for it and went back for the bones, in respect for the dead. Pilate is my favorite character in this book. She is confident and strong like a typical man, but she has not become corrupt and cruel the way so many male characters have.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
An Online Journal Entry Reflecting on the Online Journal
I have really enjoyed keeping an online journal for this class. Although I do understand (and agree with) many of the reasons for keeping notebook journals, I definitely prefer this online method. The main advantage to actually writing on paper, for me, is that writing fits more with the pace of critical thinking. However, I think that writing a little bit in our notebooks at the beginning of some class periods is a great way to balance this out and keep up some good old fashioned pencil-and-paper writing.
I like the online journal so much because I have found that it forces me to write better--and to think better too. Since I know everybody can see that I am keeping up with writing or not keeping up with it, I am much more motivated to stay on top of things. Furthermore, because this is a published blog that anybody can read, I try to make my writing better, or at least write so that my ideas make more sense--I flesh them out more than I would in a notebook. This is good, because the more I flesh out an idea, the more I am forced to critically think about that one idea and delve even deeper into it than I originally intended. I do feel like this has improved my writing and made response papers much easier (the notebook did this too, but not to the same degree).
I can see why people don't love the online journal. When we're stressed and neglecting it, it becomes obvious that we haven't done any work in a while. Not only is it much harder to procrastinate, but procrastination also leads to much more guilt. This is a good thing, because it forces us to update our blogs more regularly and be less stressed to throw something together the night before it's due (not that everybody did that; but occasionally I'm sure we all felt a bit rushed during that week of the journal deadline). It's also difficult to write for the public. Even though it's not likely other people will read this blog, it is very public to our classmates. While I think this makes for even better writing, it does not allow for as much scattered writing or more reflective writing that we may not want to publish on the internet. I think the simple solution to this is for us to write in notebooks if we feel compelled to write something that we don't want to publish. Or, we could simply compose a post but not publish it. Then we would still be doing all types of writing, but we could simply write without publishing.
The biggest advantage I see to an online journal is that it is easy to keep track of. I remember Mr. Mitchell stressing in Coming of Age that he wanted our journals to be something we could look back on as a record of our thoughts the first time we read these books. I agree that the journals are extremely valuable in that sense, and the fact that they are online makes it much easier to keep track of them (paper notebooks are much easier to lose over the years). So even if we didn't publish everything we wrote on these blogs, we could still come back to them ten years later and read both the published and unpublished entries, without having to worry about searching our old school things for an easy-to-lose paper notebook.
Overall, I really like the online journals and hope that they will continue to be used in years to come (and if they aren't, then I'm glad I at least got to create one), but I also see the value of private paper-and-pencil writing and I hope that remains a part of this class as well.
I like the online journal so much because I have found that it forces me to write better--and to think better too. Since I know everybody can see that I am keeping up with writing or not keeping up with it, I am much more motivated to stay on top of things. Furthermore, because this is a published blog that anybody can read, I try to make my writing better, or at least write so that my ideas make more sense--I flesh them out more than I would in a notebook. This is good, because the more I flesh out an idea, the more I am forced to critically think about that one idea and delve even deeper into it than I originally intended. I do feel like this has improved my writing and made response papers much easier (the notebook did this too, but not to the same degree).
I can see why people don't love the online journal. When we're stressed and neglecting it, it becomes obvious that we haven't done any work in a while. Not only is it much harder to procrastinate, but procrastination also leads to much more guilt. This is a good thing, because it forces us to update our blogs more regularly and be less stressed to throw something together the night before it's due (not that everybody did that; but occasionally I'm sure we all felt a bit rushed during that week of the journal deadline). It's also difficult to write for the public. Even though it's not likely other people will read this blog, it is very public to our classmates. While I think this makes for even better writing, it does not allow for as much scattered writing or more reflective writing that we may not want to publish on the internet. I think the simple solution to this is for us to write in notebooks if we feel compelled to write something that we don't want to publish. Or, we could simply compose a post but not publish it. Then we would still be doing all types of writing, but we could simply write without publishing.
The biggest advantage I see to an online journal is that it is easy to keep track of. I remember Mr. Mitchell stressing in Coming of Age that he wanted our journals to be something we could look back on as a record of our thoughts the first time we read these books. I agree that the journals are extremely valuable in that sense, and the fact that they are online makes it much easier to keep track of them (paper notebooks are much easier to lose over the years). So even if we didn't publish everything we wrote on these blogs, we could still come back to them ten years later and read both the published and unpublished entries, without having to worry about searching our old school things for an easy-to-lose paper notebook.
Overall, I really like the online journals and hope that they will continue to be used in years to come (and if they aren't, then I'm glad I at least got to create one), but I also see the value of private paper-and-pencil writing and I hope that remains a part of this class as well.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
My Thoughts on Our Panel Presentation Article
I probably made this pretty clear in class (and in my previous post), but I do not think Antoinette goes insane. She is incredibly sane considering the fact that she's been locked up for years. Her desires are simple: she wants to leave the cold, gray, oppressive house and be free. Yes, by the standards of her society she is "insane." However, are we really that stuck in the past that we can't let go of standards for mental illness that claim that "insanity" is inherited, and characterized by "crazy" actions that are not womanly? A man living during Antoinette's time period would not be expected to be sane while being locked in an attic. A man would not be considered crazy for getting drunk and yelling at his wife. There is definitely a sexual double-standard here, and it unfortunately causes Antoinette to be judged rather harshly--by her society.
However, this is the twenty-first century! Antoinette is from the nineteenth! Why does it make sense to dismiss her as being "insane" when we are supposed to have progressed away from that way of thinking? What really makes her insane? My definition of insanity is being completely incapable of rational thought and rational desires. Antoinette is surprisingly rational in her thoughts and desires, and is even very calm and peaceful when she is not being treated badly by Richard or Rochester. Her relationship with Grace Poole does not seem like a bad one: although Grace views Antoinette as "mad," Antoinette does not act "mad" when she is alone with Grace. She does not give Grace a hard time. All she does is ask to be set free, or ask for food or fire for warmth. Those of you who believe Antoinette is mad, please tell me: what is your definition of insanity, and how does Antoinette fit that definition at all? I think we all agree that she is mentally ill, but we do not classify mentally ill people as insane. Our understanding of mental illness should have progressed enough since the nineteenth century that we understand mental illness does not equal insanity. Even by Antoinette's society's standards, she is not as insane as people believe. People in her society do not understand why Richard angers her so much when he says he cannot legally help her. They do not understand her identity crisis, or the way she has been hurt by Rochester.
Can we really classify anybody as insane or mad? I would argue that we cannot. It is impossible to fully understand a person (unless we have a handy book about them that explains their mind to us perfectly), and unless we really understand how somebody's mind works and whether their thoughts are rational or not, we cannot call them insane. We know that insanity is not hereditary (even in Antoinette's case where her mental illness is a self-fulfilling prophecy, it is not inherited and it did not have to happen), and we know that there are various degrees and intensities of mental illness. We even claim now to understand the human mind better than we did back then, but do we really? If we are still dismissing people as insane simply because they are mentally ill for perfectly legitimate reasons (but still entirely rational), has our thinking about mental illness actually progressed that much?
Given my previous assertion that we cannot call anybody mad or insane, I do not think Rochester is mad. I understand what our author is saying about him having a "mad" quality, and that makes sense to me, but I do not think we can call him mad. Our author was definitely on Antoinette's side and not at all on Rochester's, which would explain her reluctance to sympathize with the latter. I do not hate Rochester. I don't like him in this book (I do overall, when I consider both this book and Jane Eyre, because I like the person he becomes), but I do understand his pride, his frustration at being the "second son," his fear of being the rejected suitor, and his "need" for power because society tells him to be the powerful man. Rochester is a victim of society's sexism just as much as Antoinette is. I do not think that Rochester is mad, just like I don't think that Antoinette is mad: if they were, how could we understand them at all (unless, of course, you want to argue that we are all mad)?
However, this is the twenty-first century! Antoinette is from the nineteenth! Why does it make sense to dismiss her as being "insane" when we are supposed to have progressed away from that way of thinking? What really makes her insane? My definition of insanity is being completely incapable of rational thought and rational desires. Antoinette is surprisingly rational in her thoughts and desires, and is even very calm and peaceful when she is not being treated badly by Richard or Rochester. Her relationship with Grace Poole does not seem like a bad one: although Grace views Antoinette as "mad," Antoinette does not act "mad" when she is alone with Grace. She does not give Grace a hard time. All she does is ask to be set free, or ask for food or fire for warmth. Those of you who believe Antoinette is mad, please tell me: what is your definition of insanity, and how does Antoinette fit that definition at all? I think we all agree that she is mentally ill, but we do not classify mentally ill people as insane. Our understanding of mental illness should have progressed enough since the nineteenth century that we understand mental illness does not equal insanity. Even by Antoinette's society's standards, she is not as insane as people believe. People in her society do not understand why Richard angers her so much when he says he cannot legally help her. They do not understand her identity crisis, or the way she has been hurt by Rochester.
Can we really classify anybody as insane or mad? I would argue that we cannot. It is impossible to fully understand a person (unless we have a handy book about them that explains their mind to us perfectly), and unless we really understand how somebody's mind works and whether their thoughts are rational or not, we cannot call them insane. We know that insanity is not hereditary (even in Antoinette's case where her mental illness is a self-fulfilling prophecy, it is not inherited and it did not have to happen), and we know that there are various degrees and intensities of mental illness. We even claim now to understand the human mind better than we did back then, but do we really? If we are still dismissing people as insane simply because they are mentally ill for perfectly legitimate reasons (but still entirely rational), has our thinking about mental illness actually progressed that much?
Given my previous assertion that we cannot call anybody mad or insane, I do not think Rochester is mad. I understand what our author is saying about him having a "mad" quality, and that makes sense to me, but I do not think we can call him mad. Our author was definitely on Antoinette's side and not at all on Rochester's, which would explain her reluctance to sympathize with the latter. I do not hate Rochester. I don't like him in this book (I do overall, when I consider both this book and Jane Eyre, because I like the person he becomes), but I do understand his pride, his frustration at being the "second son," his fear of being the rejected suitor, and his "need" for power because society tells him to be the powerful man. Rochester is a victim of society's sexism just as much as Antoinette is. I do not think that Rochester is mad, just like I don't think that Antoinette is mad: if they were, how could we understand them at all (unless, of course, you want to argue that we are all mad)?
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Antoinette Is Not Crazy
I don't think Antoinette is ever out of her mind at all in the entire story. First of all, she has a right to be incredibly angry with Rochester after he deliberately hurts her by so obviously cheating on her. It is only because she is a woman who "should" be quiet and sweet and obedient that Rochester is so freaked out by her drunken yelling at him. She's drunk though--it's easy to view the scene where she's yelling at him as the beginning of her "insanity," but it's not at all the beginning. Everybody's emotions and actions are escalated when they are drunk, and Antoinette has every right to be furious at this point. She's just showing emotion here, and because that's not really "allowed" of her, she can easily be viewed as insane at this point.
There is, of course, the issue of the Antoinette in the attic, who we know from Jane Eyre as Bertha Mason. It is so easy to say that because she tried to attack Richard, she is insane, but she doesn't attack him until he says he legally can't do anything about her situation. She is so frustrated at being so trapped, and her brother, the one person who she hopes will recognize and help her, has failed her and is clearly frightened of her. Yes, at this point, her mental state has definitely spiraled downward, but she is not insane. She has perfectly civilized conversations with Grace Poole, and her thoughts seem rational to me as well (we did not declare Septimus "insane" when we were inside his head, even though he appears insane on the outside!).
Another question is that of why she burns the house down. This is open to plenty of interpretation, but I do not think she does it as a means of revenge. I don't think that attempting to hurt anybody is really on her mind when she does this. In her dream that made her "realize" what she had to do, the act of setting the fire and killing herself is centered around her. She constantly talks of Coulibri, Christophine, Tia, Aunt Cora, and her childhood. Rochester is involved, and is referred to as "the man who hated me," and he seems to be beckoning Antoinette to stay, and not to jump. He's calling her name (well, he's using the name he gave her anyway), and since he is the one who brought her away from England and her childhood, he seems to be telling her not to jump, and to stay in the world he has created for her. Her choice is to jump into what is the pool in her dream (but what we know will actually be her death in real life), and this seems to be her way of finally escaping Rochester and going back, in a way, to the life that she truly identifies with. She is not an English girl in the end. She is Antoinette, not Bertha.
Does this make her insane? Is she insane to kill herself in order to escape a life that she's not happy living? We didn't denounce Virginia Woolf as insane for committing suicide; we understood it to an extent. I feel like we can understand Antoinette's suicide in the same way. Yes, she is mentally ill to a degree, but this does not make her insane. She is never insane, and her mental illness is absolutely brought on by Mr. Rochester's treatment of her. How "sane" can we expect a woman to be if she is confined to an attic for years? In my opinion, Antoinette is surprisingly sane at the end of the book.
There is, of course, the issue of the Antoinette in the attic, who we know from Jane Eyre as Bertha Mason. It is so easy to say that because she tried to attack Richard, she is insane, but she doesn't attack him until he says he legally can't do anything about her situation. She is so frustrated at being so trapped, and her brother, the one person who she hopes will recognize and help her, has failed her and is clearly frightened of her. Yes, at this point, her mental state has definitely spiraled downward, but she is not insane. She has perfectly civilized conversations with Grace Poole, and her thoughts seem rational to me as well (we did not declare Septimus "insane" when we were inside his head, even though he appears insane on the outside!).
Another question is that of why she burns the house down. This is open to plenty of interpretation, but I do not think she does it as a means of revenge. I don't think that attempting to hurt anybody is really on her mind when she does this. In her dream that made her "realize" what she had to do, the act of setting the fire and killing herself is centered around her. She constantly talks of Coulibri, Christophine, Tia, Aunt Cora, and her childhood. Rochester is involved, and is referred to as "the man who hated me," and he seems to be beckoning Antoinette to stay, and not to jump. He's calling her name (well, he's using the name he gave her anyway), and since he is the one who brought her away from England and her childhood, he seems to be telling her not to jump, and to stay in the world he has created for her. Her choice is to jump into what is the pool in her dream (but what we know will actually be her death in real life), and this seems to be her way of finally escaping Rochester and going back, in a way, to the life that she truly identifies with. She is not an English girl in the end. She is Antoinette, not Bertha.
Does this make her insane? Is she insane to kill herself in order to escape a life that she's not happy living? We didn't denounce Virginia Woolf as insane for committing suicide; we understood it to an extent. I feel like we can understand Antoinette's suicide in the same way. Yes, she is mentally ill to a degree, but this does not make her insane. She is never insane, and her mental illness is absolutely brought on by Mr. Rochester's treatment of her. How "sane" can we expect a woman to be if she is confined to an attic for years? In my opinion, Antoinette is surprisingly sane at the end of the book.
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