Something that struck me as interesting when reading Douglas Kerr’s “Three Ways of Going Wrong” was the following quote: “It is the siren that lures him to his own wreck” (Kerr 22). A common theme I found in both Heart of Darkness and Waiting for the Barbarians is that each main character (Kurtz in HOD and the magistrate in WFB) each do whatever he believes he should do, whether or not anyone else thinks it’s right or wrong. Through Kurtz’s and the magistrate’s experiences, they learn about themselves and the place in which they have been living a lot more than before these experiences. For Kurtz, “the wilderness is Kurtz’s ‘sleeping dictionary’; it has something to say to him and it says it, whispering to him ‘things about himself which he did not know, things of which he had no conception till he took counsel with this great solitude’” (Kerr 22). Is the wilderness Kurtz’s siren? In WFB, the magistrate’s siren is probably universally agreed to be the barbarian girl. The magistrate’s siren causes him to be in jail, essentially, which could be seen as “his own wreck.” In class, we already discussed the issue of exactly why he even sent the girl back to her people (to atone for what the Empire did to her and her people; maybe because he merely thinks that it’s the right thing to do, etc.). This does indeed lead to the magistrate being questioned by Colonel Joll and Mandel, which leads to the two of them attempting to accuse the magistrate with whatever little insufficient evidence they can find (i.e. the symbols they think are communication notes between the magistrate and some barbarians). The whole questioning aspect and the fact that the magistrate ended up in jail because of sending the barbarian girl back does support the idea that his siren lured him to his own wreck. Now, comparing this to Kurtz’s so-called siren, it’s a little difficult for me to comprehend exactly how Kurtz’s siren leads to his wreck. Kerr points out that “Surrendering to its blandishments, Kurtz like Odysseus loses touch with his best rational intentions and his earlier self, tending, as the Russian reports, to ‘forget himself among these people . . .”; indeed, Marlow does seem to know, for his immediate diagnosis is ‘Why! He’s mad’” (22). I mean, I guess since Kurtz ends up dying and Marlow ends up lying to Kurtz’s Intended, those are two possible ways that have constitute a bad ending for Kurtz; however, I still have some doubts about Kurtz’s “wreck.”
Another interesting aspect that Kerr brushes upon is the fact that their sirens allow both Kurtz and the magistrate to learn appreciation, something that would not support the fact about the siren leading them to their own wrecks. I honestly believe that the magistrate began to appreciate the barbarian girl, his siren, after she wasn’t there by his side every night. When he attempts to revive her image in his mind after she left, it shows that he really wants to remember her. Yes, it could be argued that the magistrate values the history she holds and maybe that’s the reason why he houses her and wants to remember her, but somehow, it just seems like he just appreciates her (you-don’t-know-what-you-have-until-it’s-gone type of thing). Maybe doesn’t love her, but appreciates her, in whatever respect. As for Kurtz, “he comes to Africa as the torchbearer of modernity and progress . . . who lectures his less high-minded colleagues on the need to treat the natives well, and on their responsibility and opportunity for ‘humanizing, improving, instructing’” (22). And of course the wilderness, his siren, reveals to him things he did not know until then. His siren almost allows Kurtz to understand “The horror! The horror!” of which was his life, but his siren also lets him appreciate the culture of the natives that he has come to learn.
To me, both novels take a similar approach in that they are each one man’s story. This one man goes on a journey whether knowing it (as Kurtz does) or not realizing until he’s there (as the magistrate shows); both journeys allow them to learn appreciation and/or eventually teach other people lessons (as Kurtz ends up teaching Marlow and as the magistrate attempts to teach Colonel Joll and Mandel). (724)
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
The Purpose of the Magistrate
In J.M. Coetzee’s Waiting for the Barbarians, I find the Magistrate’s personality to be one of indecisiveness and therefore, curiosity. From his actions speaking louder than his words (i.e. his sleeping with the barbarian girl while saying that he feels no particular desire for her) to his giving her the choice of staying with him or going back to her people which leads him to his own confinement, the narrator seems curious and indecisive and sometimes, contradictory.
What is the significance of the magistrate being with the barbarian girl? When he states, “I lose myself in the rhythm of what I am doing. I lose awareness of the girl herself. There is a space of time which is blank to me: perhaps I am not even present,” he seems to feel this tranquil state of mind each time with the barbarian girl (28). Is it this loss of time that is attractive to the narrator? Is this why he spends time with the barbarian girl? Or does he truly feel a sense of sympathy where “it occurs to [him] that whatever [he] want[s] to say to her will be heard with sympathy, with kindness” (22)? Is he attempting to show everyone that the barbarians are not bad people, but rather, just trying to defend what is rightfully their property?
This is how the narrator sees himself through the girl’s eyes: “When she does not look at me I am a grey form moving about unpredictably on the periphery of her vision. When she looks at me I am a blur, a voice, a smell, a centre of energy that one day falls asleep washing her feet and the next day feeds her bean stew and the next day—she does not know” (29). With the words Coetzee uses such as grey (but visible?) when the girl can see him, but a blur (seemingly less visible or less straightforward) when she actually looks at him shows the ambiguity of the magistrate himself. The seemingly contradictory descriptions show the magistrate’s own personality. Either grey or a blur, he knows that he is unpredictable to the girl (and possibly everyone else, especially when the men are surprised that the barbarian girl is going on the journey with them, as they don’t know that the Magistrate is giving her the choice of going back to her people). Even in Part IV, when the Magistrate is in confinement, he still feels his own indecisive nature about pretty much everything: “My heart lurches (with horror? with gratitude?) at the thought” (96).
Overall, I can’t really figure out what the Magistrate wants. Obviously, he cares about the barbarians/sees them in a different light than anyone else in the empire. But what is the purpose of his type of personality in the story? (465)
What is the significance of the magistrate being with the barbarian girl? When he states, “I lose myself in the rhythm of what I am doing. I lose awareness of the girl herself. There is a space of time which is blank to me: perhaps I am not even present,” he seems to feel this tranquil state of mind each time with the barbarian girl (28). Is it this loss of time that is attractive to the narrator? Is this why he spends time with the barbarian girl? Or does he truly feel a sense of sympathy where “it occurs to [him] that whatever [he] want[s] to say to her will be heard with sympathy, with kindness” (22)? Is he attempting to show everyone that the barbarians are not bad people, but rather, just trying to defend what is rightfully their property?
This is how the narrator sees himself through the girl’s eyes: “When she does not look at me I am a grey form moving about unpredictably on the periphery of her vision. When she looks at me I am a blur, a voice, a smell, a centre of energy that one day falls asleep washing her feet and the next day feeds her bean stew and the next day—she does not know” (29). With the words Coetzee uses such as grey (but visible?) when the girl can see him, but a blur (seemingly less visible or less straightforward) when she actually looks at him shows the ambiguity of the magistrate himself. The seemingly contradictory descriptions show the magistrate’s own personality. Either grey or a blur, he knows that he is unpredictable to the girl (and possibly everyone else, especially when the men are surprised that the barbarian girl is going on the journey with them, as they don’t know that the Magistrate is giving her the choice of going back to her people). Even in Part IV, when the Magistrate is in confinement, he still feels his own indecisive nature about pretty much everything: “My heart lurches (with horror? with gratitude?) at the thought” (96).
Overall, I can’t really figure out what the Magistrate wants. Obviously, he cares about the barbarians/sees them in a different light than anyone else in the empire. But what is the purpose of his type of personality in the story? (465)
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Articles for Heart of Darkness
“Social Progress and the Rivalry of the Races” by Benjamin Kidd; pg 229
- How do the background of progress and the rivalry between races contribute to Heart of Darkness?
- “This orderly and beautiful world . . . always has been the scene of incessant rivalry between all the forms of life inhabiting it—rivalry, too, not chiefly conducted between different species but between members of the same species” (229).
- Kidd points out that the Anglo-Saxon race may not use wars to “exterminate the less developed peoples” but instead, use laws “not less deadly and even more certain in their result” (230).
- The leading colonist of South Africa said, “The natives must go; or they must work as laboriously to develop the land as we are prepared to do” (231).
- Are the virtues of our civilization indeed virtues, or vices? “We often in a self-accusing spirit attribute the gradual disappearance of aboriginal peoples to the effects of our vices upon them; but the truth is that what may be called the virtues of our civilisation are scarcely less fatal than its vices” (231).
- Similar to the previous idea, Kidd points out that the Western civilization’s most proud features “are almost as disastrous in their effects as the evils of which complaint is so often made” (231).
- One common theme: “Progressive peoples have everywhere the same distinctive features. Energetic, vigorous, virile life amongst them is maintained at the highest pitch of which nature is capable . . . the individual is freest, the selection fullest, the rivalry fairest. But so also is the conflict sternest, the nervous friction greatest, and the stress severest” (232).
“Race, Ethnicity, Nationality, Empire” by Peter Edgerly Firchow; pg 233
- Does Heart of Darkness support racism and imperialism? If so, to what extent?
- People then [at the time Conrad wrote the novel] thought very differently about the subject of race than we do in current times (234).
- Racialism is defined as the “belief in the superiority of a particular race leading to prejudice and antagonism towards people of other races” (234).
- Conrad’s own life gives us a hint at his point of view: “Given the many years—half a lifetime, practically—that Conrad has spent wandering the world in ships or being stranded for weeks in remote places in the Pacific, often sharing close quarters with people from a wide variety of national and ethnic backgrounds, it is not surprising that he should seek to reflect this multinational, multiethnic experience in his work” (237).
- Frank Reeve separated racism into 3 categories: weak, medium, and strong racism.
- Weak racism: belief that races do exist and that they help to account for social phenomena.
- Medium racism: identical to weak racism, but added is the belief that certain races are superior and others inferior.
- Strong racism: prescribes a course of action based on alleged racial superiority, i.e. elimination of the inferior races.
- Firchow believes that Heart of Darkness displays a weak racism “with respect to its attitude toward Africans, for it recognizes their difference from Europeans as a separate race but does not suggest an essential superiority to them (it does, however, imply a temporary cultural superiority)” (238).
- However, Firchow believes the novel in conjunction with Belgians demonstrates a medium racism: “the British characters, Marlow and his audience aboard the Nellie, are consistently viewed as superior in intelligence, ability, and honesty to their purely Belgian equivalents. The essential superiority of the British is also suggested in characters who possess less-well-defined associations with Britain, such as the Russian who speaks English and reads British books or Kurtz, who had a partly English mother and was educated in Britain” (238).
- Colonialism vs. imperialism: “Conrad is anticipating the distinction made a few years later in J.A. Hobson’s Imperialism (1902) between colonialism, or emigration to relatively unpopulated areas and the establishment of a culture attempting to reproduce that of the home country (e.g. Australia, New Zealand, Canada), and imperialism, in which the settlers form a ruling caste among an overwhelmingly native population” (239).
- Firchow believes that “Conrad seems to be claiming that there are two kinds of imperialism: one is British and good; another is non-British and, to varying degrees, not good” (241).
- How do the background of progress and the rivalry between races contribute to Heart of Darkness?
- “This orderly and beautiful world . . . always has been the scene of incessant rivalry between all the forms of life inhabiting it—rivalry, too, not chiefly conducted between different species but between members of the same species” (229).
- Kidd points out that the Anglo-Saxon race may not use wars to “exterminate the less developed peoples” but instead, use laws “not less deadly and even more certain in their result” (230).
- The leading colonist of South Africa said, “The natives must go; or they must work as laboriously to develop the land as we are prepared to do” (231).
- Are the virtues of our civilization indeed virtues, or vices? “We often in a self-accusing spirit attribute the gradual disappearance of aboriginal peoples to the effects of our vices upon them; but the truth is that what may be called the virtues of our civilisation are scarcely less fatal than its vices” (231).
- Similar to the previous idea, Kidd points out that the Western civilization’s most proud features “are almost as disastrous in their effects as the evils of which complaint is so often made” (231).
- One common theme: “Progressive peoples have everywhere the same distinctive features. Energetic, vigorous, virile life amongst them is maintained at the highest pitch of which nature is capable . . . the individual is freest, the selection fullest, the rivalry fairest. But so also is the conflict sternest, the nervous friction greatest, and the stress severest” (232).
“Race, Ethnicity, Nationality, Empire” by Peter Edgerly Firchow; pg 233
- Does Heart of Darkness support racism and imperialism? If so, to what extent?
- People then [at the time Conrad wrote the novel] thought very differently about the subject of race than we do in current times (234).
- Racialism is defined as the “belief in the superiority of a particular race leading to prejudice and antagonism towards people of other races” (234).
- Conrad’s own life gives us a hint at his point of view: “Given the many years—half a lifetime, practically—that Conrad has spent wandering the world in ships or being stranded for weeks in remote places in the Pacific, often sharing close quarters with people from a wide variety of national and ethnic backgrounds, it is not surprising that he should seek to reflect this multinational, multiethnic experience in his work” (237).
- Frank Reeve separated racism into 3 categories: weak, medium, and strong racism.
- Weak racism: belief that races do exist and that they help to account for social phenomena.
- Medium racism: identical to weak racism, but added is the belief that certain races are superior and others inferior.
- Strong racism: prescribes a course of action based on alleged racial superiority, i.e. elimination of the inferior races.
- Firchow believes that Heart of Darkness displays a weak racism “with respect to its attitude toward Africans, for it recognizes their difference from Europeans as a separate race but does not suggest an essential superiority to them (it does, however, imply a temporary cultural superiority)” (238).
- However, Firchow believes the novel in conjunction with Belgians demonstrates a medium racism: “the British characters, Marlow and his audience aboard the Nellie, are consistently viewed as superior in intelligence, ability, and honesty to their purely Belgian equivalents. The essential superiority of the British is also suggested in characters who possess less-well-defined associations with Britain, such as the Russian who speaks English and reads British books or Kurtz, who had a partly English mother and was educated in Britain” (238).
- Colonialism vs. imperialism: “Conrad is anticipating the distinction made a few years later in J.A. Hobson’s Imperialism (1902) between colonialism, or emigration to relatively unpopulated areas and the establishment of a culture attempting to reproduce that of the home country (e.g. Australia, New Zealand, Canada), and imperialism, in which the settlers form a ruling caste among an overwhelmingly native population” (239).
- Firchow believes that “Conrad seems to be claiming that there are two kinds of imperialism: one is British and good; another is non-British and, to varying degrees, not good” (241).
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Light vs. Dark
In Part I of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, Marlow tells the story of his experience of going to Africa. Throughout his own narrative, Marlow often incorporates the contrast between light and dark. Some examples are “A lot of people, mostly black and naked, moved about like ants . . . A blinding sunlight drowned all this . . .” (15), “ . . . the brass-wire set into the depths of darkness and in return came a precious trickle of ivory” (18), and “The edge of a colossal jungle so dark green as to be almost black, fringed with white surf, ran straight, like a ruled line, far far away along a blue sea whose glitter was blurred by a creeping mist” (13). What does the contrast Conrad sets up in Heart of Darkness do for the reader? Does he use this as a racial contrast? Or did Conrad have something else in mind?
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Unity or Contradiction?
One aspect of the article “Rereading Faulkner: Authority, Criticism, and The Sound and the Fury,” by Stacy Burton, really struck me. Burton allows the reader to question the notion of both unity and contradiction within William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury. This article examines the following question: is contradiction, or unity, the true theme of the novel? With “the three first-person narrators, who recount interior monologues of the three Compson brothers, speak in distinct voices . . . : Benjy by mental limitations, Quentin by neurosis, Jason by defensive self-justification. The fourth does not resolve them but instead demonstrates, in conjunction with them, the impossibility of an omniscient point of view,” Burton shows that some critics believe that this novel does in fact, demonstrate unity (610). On the contrary, other critics “have focused on its contradictions and the ways it complicates attempts at resolution and undermines attempts at closure” (610). With the first two narrations by Benjy and Quentin, the complicatedness of the novel is evident; however, as the reader moves on to the next narration through Jason’s point of view, things slowly begin to unfold, and the reader is able to get a better sense of the issues within the Compson family. To me, there is a certain unity in Faulkner’s novel with the three narrators giving the reader a chance to see inside each brother’s mind and observe the Compson family through his eyes. Each narration allows the reader to decipher the nature of each character from different points of view. I think it’s interesting that Faulkner chose Benjy, Quentin, and Jason to act as narrators versus Caddy; the same incidents, though the same actions and consequences, would be portrayed differently through Caddy’s eyes; therefore, those incidents would more likely than not have a very different effect on the reader.
I chose this article because the word unity barely comes to mind when reading a book such as The Sound and the Fury. It wasn’t until I read this article that I really took a step back and realized the unifying factors that are portrayed through the narrations, especially when certain scenes are replayed in two different narrations, through two different Compson brothers’ eyes. (367)
Rereading Faulkner: Authority, Criticism, and "The Sound and the Fury"
Stacy Burton
Modern Philology, Vol. 98, No. 4 (May, 2001), pp. 604-628
Published by: The University of Chicago Press
I chose this article because the word unity barely comes to mind when reading a book such as The Sound and the Fury. It wasn’t until I read this article that I really took a step back and realized the unifying factors that are portrayed through the narrations, especially when certain scenes are replayed in two different narrations, through two different Compson brothers’ eyes. (367)
Rereading Faulkner: Authority, Criticism, and "The Sound and the Fury"
Stacy Burton
Modern Philology, Vol. 98, No. 4 (May, 2001), pp. 604-628
Published by: The University of Chicago Press
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
June Second, 1910
The dysfunctional Compson family is played out before Quentin’s eyes in the scene where Mother talks about how Caddy and Benjy are “cursed.”
When Quentin remembers the scene in which Mother says to Father, “. . . I can take Jason and go where we are not known I’ll go down on my knees and pray for the absolution of my sins that he may escape this curse try to forget that the others ever were,” does his mother talking about his siblings as a curse heavily affect Quentin (104)? Quentin is the one who repeats what he has heard when he says to Caddy, “theres a curse on us its not our fault is it our fault . . . you cant make me theres a curse on us” (158). What is the purpose of Faulkner having Mother believe that all her children except Jason are “cursed”? What is the effect on Quentin when he remembers this and reiterates his Mother’s words to Caddy?
I think that Quentin almost feels that it’s his responsibility to “lift the curse” from his siblings. He was not specifically mentioned during Caroline’s rant, so maybe he feels that he is not directly part of that category. It almost seems as if his not being directly mentioned in that group makes him even more protective of Caddy, in whatever way, especially when he attempts to fight Dalton Ames. (234)
When Quentin remembers the scene in which Mother says to Father, “. . . I can take Jason and go where we are not known I’ll go down on my knees and pray for the absolution of my sins that he may escape this curse try to forget that the others ever were,” does his mother talking about his siblings as a curse heavily affect Quentin (104)? Quentin is the one who repeats what he has heard when he says to Caddy, “theres a curse on us its not our fault is it our fault . . . you cant make me theres a curse on us” (158). What is the purpose of Faulkner having Mother believe that all her children except Jason are “cursed”? What is the effect on Quentin when he remembers this and reiterates his Mother’s words to Caddy?
I think that Quentin almost feels that it’s his responsibility to “lift the curse” from his siblings. He was not specifically mentioned during Caroline’s rant, so maybe he feels that he is not directly part of that category. It almost seems as if his not being directly mentioned in that group makes him even more protective of Caddy, in whatever way, especially when he attempts to fight Dalton Ames. (234)
Sunday, October 4, 2009
half blog
So far, I’ve read 3 short stories: “Allegiance,” by Aryn Kyle; “So Much for Artemis,” by Patrick Ryan; and “Elder Jinks,” by Edith Pearlman. I enjoyed “Elder Jinks” the most. Basically, the lesson I took from this story is this: there are always second chances in life, but it’s up to you to take the initiative to find or perhaps, form, those chances, just as Grace and Gustave attempt to mend their relationship at the end of the story. Their relationship almost seems broken from the beginning with the subtle disagreements between something as seemingly trivial as the way the lawn chairs are placed. Toward the middle of the story, when Gustave unexpectedly returns home to find an interesting group of people in his living room, the relationship is already “over.” When Hal Karsh pulls Grace out of the house, the relationship seems to be completely terminated. They weren’t on the same page, especially shown when Gustave thought the sweater was for him, whereas Grace actually made the sweater for her granddaughter. The ending of the story was quite surprising to me; given the circumstances of the characters, I thought the relationship was doomed from the start. But, nonetheless, Pearlman gives us a “happy” ending; however, I’m not sure how long the happiness will last between Grace and Gustave. But, nevertheless, I enjoyed the lesson because Pearlman does address the dangers of this second chance for both of them. Consequently, she shows that the dangers of giving yourself and somebody else second chances might be worth the risk if the reward is great enough.
I am curious about the title of the story, though. So far, this is what I’ve thought about the title: the two main characters are “elderly,” hence the first word of the title. Jinks can be defined as “a sudden, quick change of direction” according to the Oxford dictionary, which reminds me of the nature of Grace and Gustave’s relationship. I saw it like this: at any time, something can alter their relationship. (337)
I am curious about the title of the story, though. So far, this is what I’ve thought about the title: the two main characters are “elderly,” hence the first word of the title. Jinks can be defined as “a sudden, quick change of direction” according to the Oxford dictionary, which reminds me of the nature of Grace and Gustave’s relationship. I saw it like this: at any time, something can alter their relationship. (337)
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Time and Guilt in a Mother-Daughter Relationship
As the narrator continues ironing, and as Emily inadvertently “leaves her seal” on the family, time is ticking faster and faster on the clock. In Tillie Olsen’s “I Stand Here Ironing,” the precious gift of time persistently speaks whenever the mother harbors her guilt about Emily’s childhood. Just as the clock “scared [Emily] what it talked,” the clock, likewise, frightens her mother, as it diminishes her chances of reversing her mistakes and mending her daughter’s childhood. Through this short story, Olsen reveals the consequence of a true mother-daughter relationship: although time spares a child certain animosity from his or her childhood, the mother forever harbors her guilt from her child’s youth, whether expressing that via herself or via an object, an iron.
Although insecure, ill, and distressed, Olsen’s descriptions of Emily’s heartbreaking childhood present Emily with a chance for her to get better, become happier, and challenge the notion of time that worries her. From the beginning of her upbringing, “. . . . there was not time for [Emily]. She had to help be a mother, and housekeeper, and shopper” (641). Emily, able to overcome her mother’s disregards during her childhood, suffers through an immense amount of pain, yet is able to become “Somebody” by performing in numerous plays. Interestingly enough, her mother is the one who suggests her performing, possibly a way of altering her guilt into something that is ultimately responsible for Emily’s sudden happiness, a gift to both Emily and her mother.
The narrator knows that time is running out for her to love Emily, for her to fix Emily’s childhood and relieve her own guilt when she sees that “[Emily’s] physical lightness and brightness . . . [are only] momentary” (640). This guilt almost comes involuntarily to the narrator when she connects her own action of ironing to Emily’s own “. . . . struggle over books . . . .” (641). The narrator’s guilt interjects into her parenting abilities when she permits Emily to be sent away to a home in the country that forbids children to keep their parents’ letters, or when she allows her children to stay home from school, merely for her own insecurities that arise when her family is apart. With this, Emily’s mother attempts to recapture the time before she “released” Emily from her grasp by trying to make up for her unintentional negligence from Emily’s childhood after “now when it is too late,” she checks in on Emily during the night (639). The narrator knows her mistakes; she understands that her “wisdom came too late” after she sees the life of “a child of anxious, not proud, love” (642). And yet, she also recognizes that she cannot go back and fix the past with Emily; guilt will remain an eternal feeling within her.
The iron harbors the narrator’s guilt toward herself every time she sees Emily; her guilt fails to be washed away until she sees a glimpse of happiness in her first daughter. When Emily arbitrarily asks her mother, “Aren’t you ever going to finish the ironing, Mother?,” the answer is no. Emily’s mother will always “stand there ironing” because time will forever engrave the remorse obtained from her daughter’s childhood. Olsen illustrates through a typical household item, the iron, that guilt is something that can never be fully washed away; even after the narrator witnesses Emily’s joy, she still irons, showing that she will always face her guilt, especially when she relives Emily’s childhood with “a weeping [she] can hear yet” (638). The clock that worries both Emily and her mother will continue ticking, just as the narrator will continue ironing. (605)
Although insecure, ill, and distressed, Olsen’s descriptions of Emily’s heartbreaking childhood present Emily with a chance for her to get better, become happier, and challenge the notion of time that worries her. From the beginning of her upbringing, “. . . . there was not time for [Emily]. She had to help be a mother, and housekeeper, and shopper” (641). Emily, able to overcome her mother’s disregards during her childhood, suffers through an immense amount of pain, yet is able to become “Somebody” by performing in numerous plays. Interestingly enough, her mother is the one who suggests her performing, possibly a way of altering her guilt into something that is ultimately responsible for Emily’s sudden happiness, a gift to both Emily and her mother.
The narrator knows that time is running out for her to love Emily, for her to fix Emily’s childhood and relieve her own guilt when she sees that “[Emily’s] physical lightness and brightness . . . [are only] momentary” (640). This guilt almost comes involuntarily to the narrator when she connects her own action of ironing to Emily’s own “. . . . struggle over books . . . .” (641). The narrator’s guilt interjects into her parenting abilities when she permits Emily to be sent away to a home in the country that forbids children to keep their parents’ letters, or when she allows her children to stay home from school, merely for her own insecurities that arise when her family is apart. With this, Emily’s mother attempts to recapture the time before she “released” Emily from her grasp by trying to make up for her unintentional negligence from Emily’s childhood after “now when it is too late,” she checks in on Emily during the night (639). The narrator knows her mistakes; she understands that her “wisdom came too late” after she sees the life of “a child of anxious, not proud, love” (642). And yet, she also recognizes that she cannot go back and fix the past with Emily; guilt will remain an eternal feeling within her.
The iron harbors the narrator’s guilt toward herself every time she sees Emily; her guilt fails to be washed away until she sees a glimpse of happiness in her first daughter. When Emily arbitrarily asks her mother, “Aren’t you ever going to finish the ironing, Mother?,” the answer is no. Emily’s mother will always “stand there ironing” because time will forever engrave the remorse obtained from her daughter’s childhood. Olsen illustrates through a typical household item, the iron, that guilt is something that can never be fully washed away; even after the narrator witnesses Emily’s joy, she still irons, showing that she will always face her guilt, especially when she relives Emily’s childhood with “a weeping [she] can hear yet” (638). The clock that worries both Emily and her mother will continue ticking, just as the narrator will continue ironing. (605)
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Is it the End or the Beginning?
During class, we started to discuss whether or not Norma Jean committed suicide at the end of Bobbie Ann Mason’s “Shiloh.” Did she end her life by jumping off the bridge? Did she feel the need to commit suicide because her marriage was going downhill, and her mother had caught her smoking, and her life was going back to when she was eighteen? Or did she not commit suicide at all? Did she merely go onto the bridge to obtain a peaceful, serene landscape where she can gather her thoughts without Leroy or Mabel, and just release everything that has happened in the past? I think the latter.
Norma Jean is confused. She feels like she is going back to her life when she was eighteen again with Leroy, and she “can’t face that all over again,” yet she “ha[s] this crazy feeling [she] missed something” (612, 606). I see Norma Jean as a woman full of contrasting thoughts. She never seems to know exactly what she wants. It seems like Mason characterizes Norma Jean as a woman who may be independent and seemingly okay with everything in her life, but truthfully, she is not. She has a fed up type of attitude with her life, which she discovers after certain triggers, such as Mabel catching her smoking. But does that make her want to commit suicide? I feel that Mason’s final paragraph gives Leroy a sense of false hope of living a happy life, but it gives Norma Jean a sense of real hope for her life as a truly independent woman. With a tranquil landscape such as the Tennessee River, her newfound hobby of exercising, and her words to Leroy, Norma Jean is able to reevaluate her own life in respect to herself, rather than to Leroy, rather than to Mabel, rather than to anyone else but herself. Her independence had already been previously shown through her want of Leroy to leave the house more often, but her self-reliance truly shines when she is alone on the bridge during the final scene of this short story. To me, overlooking such a landscape allows one to see further into the future; Norma Jean sees her dreams and her hope and her future over that river. Mason does not give an ending to Norma Jean’s part of the story. Norma Jean’s being on the bridge is not the final curtain of “Shiloh”; rather, it is a continuation of the story for Norma Jean. Perhaps it is the end of the story for Leroy, and possibly Mabel, but Norma Jean’s story continues after the author stops writing.
So, I think the notion that Norma Jean committed suicide is very interesting because I look at the scene from a more optimistic view when I see a sense of hope sprouting as the beginning, not the end, of something for Norma Jean. In my opinion, it’s almost as if Leroy is the one who metaphorically commits suicide. When “Leroy is trying to comprehend that his marriage is breaking up, but for some reason he is wondering about the white slabs in a graveyard,” he shows that deep within his heart, he does not care all that much about his marriage (612). Maybe he is concerned about Norma Jean and his own future, but they both know that the marriage is over, so there is no point for Leroy to have a sense of false hope, but I still feel Leroy’s false hope in the final paragraph. Norma Jean represents the stronger person in this story because she is able to gather herself even after the realization that things aren’t working out the way they should have. Leroy, on the other hand, almost pushes it to the back of his mind by thinking about other things and fails to take Norma Jean seriously when she states that she is leaving him. On the contrary, Norma Jena gives herself a sense of real hope when she tries to better herself with her exercises in the end, yet Leroy has a sense of false hope when he thinks Norma Jean is waving to him when she is standing on the bridge (613). Even after she leaves him, he still stands “admiring” her and gathering his thoughts when he wonders “Is she beckoning to him? She seems to be doing an exercise for her chest muscles” (613). (730)
Norma Jean is confused. She feels like she is going back to her life when she was eighteen again with Leroy, and she “can’t face that all over again,” yet she “ha[s] this crazy feeling [she] missed something” (612, 606). I see Norma Jean as a woman full of contrasting thoughts. She never seems to know exactly what she wants. It seems like Mason characterizes Norma Jean as a woman who may be independent and seemingly okay with everything in her life, but truthfully, she is not. She has a fed up type of attitude with her life, which she discovers after certain triggers, such as Mabel catching her smoking. But does that make her want to commit suicide? I feel that Mason’s final paragraph gives Leroy a sense of false hope of living a happy life, but it gives Norma Jean a sense of real hope for her life as a truly independent woman. With a tranquil landscape such as the Tennessee River, her newfound hobby of exercising, and her words to Leroy, Norma Jean is able to reevaluate her own life in respect to herself, rather than to Leroy, rather than to Mabel, rather than to anyone else but herself. Her independence had already been previously shown through her want of Leroy to leave the house more often, but her self-reliance truly shines when she is alone on the bridge during the final scene of this short story. To me, overlooking such a landscape allows one to see further into the future; Norma Jean sees her dreams and her hope and her future over that river. Mason does not give an ending to Norma Jean’s part of the story. Norma Jean’s being on the bridge is not the final curtain of “Shiloh”; rather, it is a continuation of the story for Norma Jean. Perhaps it is the end of the story for Leroy, and possibly Mabel, but Norma Jean’s story continues after the author stops writing.
So, I think the notion that Norma Jean committed suicide is very interesting because I look at the scene from a more optimistic view when I see a sense of hope sprouting as the beginning, not the end, of something for Norma Jean. In my opinion, it’s almost as if Leroy is the one who metaphorically commits suicide. When “Leroy is trying to comprehend that his marriage is breaking up, but for some reason he is wondering about the white slabs in a graveyard,” he shows that deep within his heart, he does not care all that much about his marriage (612). Maybe he is concerned about Norma Jean and his own future, but they both know that the marriage is over, so there is no point for Leroy to have a sense of false hope, but I still feel Leroy’s false hope in the final paragraph. Norma Jean represents the stronger person in this story because she is able to gather herself even after the realization that things aren’t working out the way they should have. Leroy, on the other hand, almost pushes it to the back of his mind by thinking about other things and fails to take Norma Jean seriously when she states that she is leaving him. On the contrary, Norma Jena gives herself a sense of real hope when she tries to better herself with her exercises in the end, yet Leroy has a sense of false hope when he thinks Norma Jean is waving to him when she is standing on the bridge (613). Even after she leaves him, he still stands “admiring” her and gathering his thoughts when he wonders “Is she beckoning to him? She seems to be doing an exercise for her chest muscles” (613). (730)
Sunday, September 20, 2009
The Unexpected Chosen One
During class, the question arose about who the true religious person in Flannery O’Connor’s “Parker’s Back” is. Is it Parker, the seemingly rebellious, non-religious, tattooed man? Or is it Sarah Ruth, his seemingly deeply religious wife who thinks Parker’s tattoos are ways of him “putting some more trash on [him]self” (394)? Through this short story, O’Connor questions traditional beliefs pertaining to both understanding God and exactly what being religious means. Through Parker’s back, the author shows that to have God choose you does not equal being a fanatically “religious” person like Sarah Ruth; sometimes, God picks the person least expected to carry His religious torch.
In the beginning of “Parker’s Back,” Sarah Ruth seems to worship God in the sense that she shows the reader and Parker that religion is the very definition of her life; however, this type of behavior appears as a type of falsehood: she merely devotes herself to God, not to find salvation but to act like she has been saved, for her own purposes. As the story proceeds, the reader gets the impression that Parker develops a better and deeper connection with God and religion, even though he does not fully understand that feeling. A turning point in the story that exemplifies this deeper connection with God is when Parker finally acquires the tattoo of God on his back, but unlike the other tattoos that he often examine in the mirror, Parker refuses to see this one, stating “That tattoo ain’t going nowhere. It’ll be there when I get there” (392). What does Parker, the rebel to religion, mean by that? I saw it as Parker thinking, or knowing, that God will be there for him whenever Parker gets there. At whatever time Parker finds religion and is able to devote himself to that type of life, he knows that God will be there waiting for him. This begins a certain change in the story, focusing the reader on the connection between Parker and religion, rather than Sarah Ruth and religion.
Another revelation happens when Parker whispers his real name, Obadiah, into the door after Sarah Ruth refuses his entrance into the house. When he murmurs his religious name aloud, suddenly he “turn[s] his spider web soul into a perfect arabesque of colors, a garden of trees and birds and beasts” (394). His soul and his tattoos are no longer “haphazard and botched” because of the significance between his name and the tattoo on his back (385). The final connection between his reaching his “destination” from the first time he sees the beauty that the colors on the man at the fair exerts to his crashing into the tree to his dwelling at the Haven of Light Christian Mission all end up happening for the same reason: God has chosen Parker.
So, maybe Parker is the more religious one in the story, and maybe God selects Parker as a man of religion, but is that the only reason Parker becomes the true religious person? In a way, it almost seems like Sarah Ruth is the one who makes him religious in the end. Parker had only wanted tattoos where he could see them; he did not necessarily care about where other people could see them, until the end of the story. He gets a tattoo on his back because of Sarah Ruth; he is willing to please her, but at the same time, this pushes him onto a path to find a religious connection. It seems like Sarah Ruth plays a role, however significant, in Parker finding religion. (593)
In the beginning of “Parker’s Back,” Sarah Ruth seems to worship God in the sense that she shows the reader and Parker that religion is the very definition of her life; however, this type of behavior appears as a type of falsehood: she merely devotes herself to God, not to find salvation but to act like she has been saved, for her own purposes. As the story proceeds, the reader gets the impression that Parker develops a better and deeper connection with God and religion, even though he does not fully understand that feeling. A turning point in the story that exemplifies this deeper connection with God is when Parker finally acquires the tattoo of God on his back, but unlike the other tattoos that he often examine in the mirror, Parker refuses to see this one, stating “That tattoo ain’t going nowhere. It’ll be there when I get there” (392). What does Parker, the rebel to religion, mean by that? I saw it as Parker thinking, or knowing, that God will be there for him whenever Parker gets there. At whatever time Parker finds religion and is able to devote himself to that type of life, he knows that God will be there waiting for him. This begins a certain change in the story, focusing the reader on the connection between Parker and religion, rather than Sarah Ruth and religion.
Another revelation happens when Parker whispers his real name, Obadiah, into the door after Sarah Ruth refuses his entrance into the house. When he murmurs his religious name aloud, suddenly he “turn[s] his spider web soul into a perfect arabesque of colors, a garden of trees and birds and beasts” (394). His soul and his tattoos are no longer “haphazard and botched” because of the significance between his name and the tattoo on his back (385). The final connection between his reaching his “destination” from the first time he sees the beauty that the colors on the man at the fair exerts to his crashing into the tree to his dwelling at the Haven of Light Christian Mission all end up happening for the same reason: God has chosen Parker.
So, maybe Parker is the more religious one in the story, and maybe God selects Parker as a man of religion, but is that the only reason Parker becomes the true religious person? In a way, it almost seems like Sarah Ruth is the one who makes him religious in the end. Parker had only wanted tattoos where he could see them; he did not necessarily care about where other people could see them, until the end of the story. He gets a tattoo on his back because of Sarah Ruth; he is willing to please her, but at the same time, this pushes him onto a path to find a religious connection. It seems like Sarah Ruth plays a role, however significant, in Parker finding religion. (593)
Sunday, September 13, 2009
The Confession of Pain
During class, for Jhumpa Lahiri’s “Interpreter of Maladies,” we discussed the question of why Mrs. Das tells her secret to Mr. Kapasi. Obviously, because Mr. Kapasi tells the Das family about his job as an interpreter, Mrs. Das feels the need to confess her secret to someone she hopes can interpret it and help her release her feelings of both pain and guilt within, as Mr. Kapasi later states. But, was this the only reason she confessed her adultery to the tour guide/interpreter? And is Mrs. Das the only person who needs someone to vent to about her life’s problems? Did Lahiri give readers more insight into Mr. Kapasi or Mrs. Das?
From the way Lahiri frames this short story, I would say that this story is told from Mr. Kapasi’s point of view, but the small, seemingly insignificant details in which the narrator describes Mrs. Das and her actions represent her background in a way that the reader is able to paint an illustration, physically and internally, of Mrs. Das. Descriptions such as, “The car rattled considerably as it raced along the dusty road, causing them all to pop up from their seats every now and then, but Mrs. Das continued to polish her nails,” subtly describe a part of Mrs. Das and the type of life she lives (582). After reading this sentence a few times, I realized that this is how I picture Mrs. Das living her life: while life is bumpy and not always set in stone, she continues to live her life, following whatever path life decides to take her on. With this description, I see Mrs. Das as a passive woman; she failed to stop the actions of her husband’s friend and instead, just went along with whatever he wanted. Maybe this is because she felt unhappy in her marriage, but does that make her a better person or a more likable character if she uses that as an excuse? This merely presents her passivity even more. Lahiri depicts Mrs. Das as a character who lives her life in the backseat, waiting for everyone else to drive the car, to instigate the direction, to control her life. When Mr. Kapasi attempts to make the bumpy ride in the car smoother for the Das family, I saw that as a foreshadowing moment in which Mrs. Das would later try to make Mr. Kapasi make her own bumpy life smoother by using him as a person she can confess her sins to.
At the same time, it isn’t just Mrs. Das who needs someone like Mr. Kapasi; Mr. Kapasi also needs someone like Mrs. Das. I felt that Lahiri presented two people with a similar problem in the big picture but different problems surrounding that big picture. The big picture shows that both Mr. Kapasi and Mrs. Das need someone to be there to appreciate them, otherwise they feel like failures. Because of his own unhappiness and his thought that “the job [as an interpreter] was a sign of his failings” and that “his wife had little regard for his career as an interpreter,” he is intrigued with whoever asks about his job at the doctor’s office, not particularly Mrs. Das; she just happened to fill this void (584-5). I feel that Mr. Kapasi harbors these feelings toward Mrs. Das because she presents a fresh aspect to his life that actually makes him feel good about what he does; it makes him feel important, as contrasted with how his wife views his job. Mr. Kapasi is almost self-deprecating based on other people’s views about him and his job.
As Mrs. Das is a passive character until she realizes that Mr. Kapasi may be able to help her release her “pain and guilt,” this is the first time Lahiri shows that Mrs. Das instigates a conversation with someone. This is the time where she is the active one telling him her problems. At the same time, Mr. Kapasi hangs on to the thread Mrs. Das figuratively attaches him with because for once, he feels appreciated. (678)
From the way Lahiri frames this short story, I would say that this story is told from Mr. Kapasi’s point of view, but the small, seemingly insignificant details in which the narrator describes Mrs. Das and her actions represent her background in a way that the reader is able to paint an illustration, physically and internally, of Mrs. Das. Descriptions such as, “The car rattled considerably as it raced along the dusty road, causing them all to pop up from their seats every now and then, but Mrs. Das continued to polish her nails,” subtly describe a part of Mrs. Das and the type of life she lives (582). After reading this sentence a few times, I realized that this is how I picture Mrs. Das living her life: while life is bumpy and not always set in stone, she continues to live her life, following whatever path life decides to take her on. With this description, I see Mrs. Das as a passive woman; she failed to stop the actions of her husband’s friend and instead, just went along with whatever he wanted. Maybe this is because she felt unhappy in her marriage, but does that make her a better person or a more likable character if she uses that as an excuse? This merely presents her passivity even more. Lahiri depicts Mrs. Das as a character who lives her life in the backseat, waiting for everyone else to drive the car, to instigate the direction, to control her life. When Mr. Kapasi attempts to make the bumpy ride in the car smoother for the Das family, I saw that as a foreshadowing moment in which Mrs. Das would later try to make Mr. Kapasi make her own bumpy life smoother by using him as a person she can confess her sins to.
At the same time, it isn’t just Mrs. Das who needs someone like Mr. Kapasi; Mr. Kapasi also needs someone like Mrs. Das. I felt that Lahiri presented two people with a similar problem in the big picture but different problems surrounding that big picture. The big picture shows that both Mr. Kapasi and Mrs. Das need someone to be there to appreciate them, otherwise they feel like failures. Because of his own unhappiness and his thought that “the job [as an interpreter] was a sign of his failings” and that “his wife had little regard for his career as an interpreter,” he is intrigued with whoever asks about his job at the doctor’s office, not particularly Mrs. Das; she just happened to fill this void (584-5). I feel that Mr. Kapasi harbors these feelings toward Mrs. Das because she presents a fresh aspect to his life that actually makes him feel good about what he does; it makes him feel important, as contrasted with how his wife views his job. Mr. Kapasi is almost self-deprecating based on other people’s views about him and his job.
As Mrs. Das is a passive character until she realizes that Mr. Kapasi may be able to help her release her “pain and guilt,” this is the first time Lahiri shows that Mrs. Das instigates a conversation with someone. This is the time where she is the active one telling him her problems. At the same time, Mr. Kapasi hangs on to the thread Mrs. Das figuratively attaches him with because for once, he feels appreciated. (678)
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
13 books
The Namesake: It talks about unexpected lessons of life.
Three Cups of Tea: It inspired me with the story of one person truly changing the world.
Old School: It was thought provoking.
Pride & Prejudice: It was interesting and such a good read that I read it twice to make sure I took it all in.
Mrs. Mike: This classic love story made my heart smile.
Gone with the Wind: It was long but historically accurate and interesting.
Sweet Thursday: It made me wonder what was going on in the characters’ lives that was not written.
Scarlett: It gave Gone with the Wind a happy ending.
Killer Angels: I unexpectedly enjoyed reading this.
Twilight: It was cute in the most unrealistic aspect.
Dance Hall of the Dead: It was quite the mystery.
To Kill a Mockingbird: It’s a classic.
The Outsiders: It’s one of the books that I read a long time ago that I still remember and enjoy.
Three Cups of Tea: It inspired me with the story of one person truly changing the world.
Old School: It was thought provoking.
Pride & Prejudice: It was interesting and such a good read that I read it twice to make sure I took it all in.
Mrs. Mike: This classic love story made my heart smile.
Gone with the Wind: It was long but historically accurate and interesting.
Sweet Thursday: It made me wonder what was going on in the characters’ lives that was not written.
Scarlett: It gave Gone with the Wind a happy ending.
Killer Angels: I unexpectedly enjoyed reading this.
Twilight: It was cute in the most unrealistic aspect.
Dance Hall of the Dead: It was quite the mystery.
To Kill a Mockingbird: It’s a classic.
The Outsiders: It’s one of the books that I read a long time ago that I still remember and enjoy.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Change, Discovery, and Remembering: A Circle of Life
The beginning and the ending of The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri come full circle; the novel begins with a baby being born, his parents finally giving him the name Gogol, after the Russian author because of the book that saved his father’s life, when the baby’s great-grandmother’s letter fails to arrive; the novel ends with Gogol/Nikhil finally picking up the book his late father gave to him, written by Nikolai Gogol. All before the age of thirty-three, Gogol changes identities, has various lovers, pushes away his family, lives his life without his father, and gets married and divorced; and yet, this novel is not merely an abstract of a man’s life: the narrator portrays one tumultuous life surrounded by one goal: one man’s search for his true identity.
What makes this novel so interesting is that the protagonist lives two separate lives: one where he is known as Gogol and one where he is known as Nikhil, but they intertwine at significant parts of the novel. His life as Gogol mostly revolves around his family, as his parents’ original intent for the name is only as a nickname, a name for him to be called only at home. When Gogol makes the decision to change his name to his parents’ original choice of a formal name, Nikhil, Gogol feels the need to push his family away, spending more and more time with his girlfriend, Maxine, and her parents. He accustoms himself to their family’s way of life, endeavoring to break away from the world that knew him as Gogol. He attempts to recreate himself as a different person, with different habits and routines he wished his parents could follow, “[a]nd yet it had not been possible to reinvent himself fully, to break from that mismatched name” (Lahiri 287). I thought that the limitless boundaries Gogol surrounded himself with when known as Nikhil presented more selfishness than self-identity, especially when he fails to take care of his family. He merely caters to his own need of getting away from his previous life, even refusing to pick up the phone, until he figures out that something is wrong. When he discovers that his father had passed away, Nikhil briefly returns to his life as Gogol, not wanting to part with his father and the significance attached to his previous name. So, does it take one life-changing tragedy for Nikhil to realize his identity as Gogol? Or, perhaps, he knew it all along and this tragedy was the one final push for him to admit his true identity as Gogol? Or was it merely just one event in a basket of events that made him Gogol? But, his name is still Nikhil.
When Nikhil finally meets Moushumi, this novel takes another turn. There is something different between Moushumi and Nikhil’s previous lovers: she knew him as a child. Moushumi is the link between his life as Gogol and his life as Nikhil. While I was reading about their relationship, I found that the comfort they give each other is their source of love: the easy conversations about how they grew up as “cousins” and how they had never really spoken until their mothers urged them to meet presented a different type of understanding and closeness. The intimacy Nikhil feels when he is with Moushumi shows me that because Moushumi is from his life as Gogol, the life his father was a part of, Nikhil feels a connection with Moushumi because of the consolation attached; Nikhil sees her as a source of comfort, a reminder of Gogol. Does this mean that Nikhil/Gogol has figured out his true identity?
This quote Gogol’s father had told him while they were at Cape Cod in the breakwater reminded me of the end of the novel when Nikhil finally begins to read the copy of Nikolai Gogol that his father had given him: “Remember that you and I made this journey, that we went together to a place where there was nowhere left to go” (Lahiri 187). Nikhil has no other place to go after his father arbitrarily dies: he went from Gogol to Nikhil and then felt more familiar with his identity as Gogol. Yet, after his marriage slowly deteriorates, after both his life as Gogol and as Nikhil do not go the way he thinks they should have, he cannot move forward; rather, he moves backward; he retraces his steps back to the beginning of his life, back to his namesake. I wondered whether or not Nikhil regretted his change of identity after his father died; I gathered that at first he did because he felt a greater connection with Gogol than Nikhil, yet his change of identity to Nikhil was the one thing that actually brought him closer to his identity as Gogol. Without changing to Nikhil, it is doubtful that he would have opened that book at all. It seems implausible that Gogol would fully appreciate the gift of the namesake that his father has given him.
Again, the narrator sums up the meaning of the events as a whole when stating, “They [the events in his life] were things for which it was impossible to prepare but which one spent a lifetime looking back at, trying to accept, interpret, comprehend. Things that should never have happened, that seemed out of place and wrong, these were what prevailed, what endured, in the end” (Lahiri 287). These events made Gogol open that book and begin reading. They brought him back to the beginning of the novel, back to the significance of his namesake, showing that life sometimes refuses to cooperate in the way that you want it to, but every event has an impact and will change the way you perceive the world. Gogol made decisions that seemed important to him, but not life-altering, such as changing his name, but this changed his life. It impacted him in a way that he had not intended; it was only after all these events that made him the slight bit curious about what was inside that book written by Nikolai Gogol.
I enjoyed reading this novel because of the unexpected twists and turns Gogol/Nikhil faced every step of the way until he opened that book. Many things were unpredictable and heartbreaking, but the author reminds us all about how life brings us unexpected things that may lead to the one discovery we have been waiting to find. (1070)
The novels I read this summer:
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin
Old School by Tobias Wolff
The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri
What makes this novel so interesting is that the protagonist lives two separate lives: one where he is known as Gogol and one where he is known as Nikhil, but they intertwine at significant parts of the novel. His life as Gogol mostly revolves around his family, as his parents’ original intent for the name is only as a nickname, a name for him to be called only at home. When Gogol makes the decision to change his name to his parents’ original choice of a formal name, Nikhil, Gogol feels the need to push his family away, spending more and more time with his girlfriend, Maxine, and her parents. He accustoms himself to their family’s way of life, endeavoring to break away from the world that knew him as Gogol. He attempts to recreate himself as a different person, with different habits and routines he wished his parents could follow, “[a]nd yet it had not been possible to reinvent himself fully, to break from that mismatched name” (Lahiri 287). I thought that the limitless boundaries Gogol surrounded himself with when known as Nikhil presented more selfishness than self-identity, especially when he fails to take care of his family. He merely caters to his own need of getting away from his previous life, even refusing to pick up the phone, until he figures out that something is wrong. When he discovers that his father had passed away, Nikhil briefly returns to his life as Gogol, not wanting to part with his father and the significance attached to his previous name. So, does it take one life-changing tragedy for Nikhil to realize his identity as Gogol? Or, perhaps, he knew it all along and this tragedy was the one final push for him to admit his true identity as Gogol? Or was it merely just one event in a basket of events that made him Gogol? But, his name is still Nikhil.
When Nikhil finally meets Moushumi, this novel takes another turn. There is something different between Moushumi and Nikhil’s previous lovers: she knew him as a child. Moushumi is the link between his life as Gogol and his life as Nikhil. While I was reading about their relationship, I found that the comfort they give each other is their source of love: the easy conversations about how they grew up as “cousins” and how they had never really spoken until their mothers urged them to meet presented a different type of understanding and closeness. The intimacy Nikhil feels when he is with Moushumi shows me that because Moushumi is from his life as Gogol, the life his father was a part of, Nikhil feels a connection with Moushumi because of the consolation attached; Nikhil sees her as a source of comfort, a reminder of Gogol. Does this mean that Nikhil/Gogol has figured out his true identity?
This quote Gogol’s father had told him while they were at Cape Cod in the breakwater reminded me of the end of the novel when Nikhil finally begins to read the copy of Nikolai Gogol that his father had given him: “Remember that you and I made this journey, that we went together to a place where there was nowhere left to go” (Lahiri 187). Nikhil has no other place to go after his father arbitrarily dies: he went from Gogol to Nikhil and then felt more familiar with his identity as Gogol. Yet, after his marriage slowly deteriorates, after both his life as Gogol and as Nikhil do not go the way he thinks they should have, he cannot move forward; rather, he moves backward; he retraces his steps back to the beginning of his life, back to his namesake. I wondered whether or not Nikhil regretted his change of identity after his father died; I gathered that at first he did because he felt a greater connection with Gogol than Nikhil, yet his change of identity to Nikhil was the one thing that actually brought him closer to his identity as Gogol. Without changing to Nikhil, it is doubtful that he would have opened that book at all. It seems implausible that Gogol would fully appreciate the gift of the namesake that his father has given him.
Again, the narrator sums up the meaning of the events as a whole when stating, “They [the events in his life] were things for which it was impossible to prepare but which one spent a lifetime looking back at, trying to accept, interpret, comprehend. Things that should never have happened, that seemed out of place and wrong, these were what prevailed, what endured, in the end” (Lahiri 287). These events made Gogol open that book and begin reading. They brought him back to the beginning of the novel, back to the significance of his namesake, showing that life sometimes refuses to cooperate in the way that you want it to, but every event has an impact and will change the way you perceive the world. Gogol made decisions that seemed important to him, but not life-altering, such as changing his name, but this changed his life. It impacted him in a way that he had not intended; it was only after all these events that made him the slight bit curious about what was inside that book written by Nikolai Gogol.
I enjoyed reading this novel because of the unexpected twists and turns Gogol/Nikhil faced every step of the way until he opened that book. Many things were unpredictable and heartbreaking, but the author reminds us all about how life brings us unexpected things that may lead to the one discovery we have been waiting to find. (1070)
The novels I read this summer:
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin
Old School by Tobias Wolff
The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri
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