I’ve finished We Were the Mulvaneys, and I liked the majority of it. The characters were quite interesting. Each member of the Mulvaney family is completely different from the next, making them seem like the perfect, or typical, American family in the respect that there’s a businessman, homemaker, football star, cheerleader, brain,and baby.
I’ve started writing the paper, and my main idea is about selfishness and individuality. I think each character exhibits his or her own type of selfishness, only shown after the sexual assault that happens to Marianne on Valentine’s Day. And yet, through this selfishness comes a blessing, where each individual Mulvaney is able to move past the family name/identity and become an individual.
The main theme that I discovered throughout this novel is about individual growth. Each individual was only able to grow after he or she left the Mulvaney home/family because of the assault. In the epilogue, Oates gives a type of “happy” ending to the family (but happy isn’t the most accurate word that I would use to describe the ending) because each character can come to terms with being a Mulvaney and with all that has happened after the night of Valentine’s Day because he or she has discovered the individual within, making them stronger as a whole. (Happy isn’t the word that I would necessarily use to describe the ending because although they come back as strong individuals, making them an overall stronger family, I feel that they haven’t truly come to terms or fully made peace with what happened. Michael, Sr., died with absolutely no peace with what had happened to his beloved daughter, and the family was never able to reconnect, which is what makes the ending a truly sad one. But that’s not really what I wanted to talk about in my paper; it was just a side thought that made me dislike the ending.)
So, the overall theme that I'm writing about is the correlation between selfishness, identity, and individuality (all connected to the assault).
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Gertrude: guilty of what?
Gertrude isn’t guilty of anything in particular; she’s merely oblivious. Obviously, the fact that she married Claudius very soon after the late king’s death was not the smartest move if she had truly taken Hamlet’s thoughts and feelings into consideration. However, guilty is not the right word to use when speaking about the queen. Hamlet accuses her of being oblivious to the man that Claudius truly is; Hamlet is wondering what Gertrude was thinking when she married a man as awful as Claudius. He accuses her of having “eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all, or but a sickly part of one true sense . . .” (1542). Additionally, he charges her with “such an act that blurs the grace and blush of modesty, calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose from the fair forehead of an innocent love and sets a blister there, makes marriage vows as false as dicers’ oaths” (1541). With this, Hamlet does indeed throw daggers into his words when speaking to Gertrude about what she should feel guilt about: betraying the late king. But, in my opinion, Gertrude didn’t so much betray Hamlet’s father as Hamlet is accusing her of.
My attitude toward Gertrude differs from Hamlet’s because I have sympathy for her. I think she means well and isn’t able to fully understand Hamlet’s words when he accuses her of being blind to the whole situation of marrying the late king’s murderer. If she didn’t know that Claudius had murdered the late king, what exactly is she supposed to be guilty of, besides marrying soon after the death? But even so, that reason doesn’t need to be one that concerns that much guilt or guilt at all. Of course, with Hamlet’s suspicions when he says, “almost as bad, good Mother, as kill a king, and marry with his brother,” he seems to say that Gertrude was part of the plan to murder the late king (1540). If that were true, that would change a lot of things. For one, I wouldn’t have sympathy for her at all. But, as Gertrude’s character seems like a nice person who just wants peace and understanding, I doubt she took part in the plan. It’s just the fact that Hamlet’s being passive-aggressive in Act III with his mother because she didn’t know that Claudius is the murderer. My sympathy for Gertrude grows as the play continues because she’s essentially stuck with Claudius as a husband and Hamlet as a son: two people who are on opposing sides. Her loyalties lie with them both, and Claudius and Hamlet are pulling her in two different directions, both with their own cunning styles of work. (451)
My attitude toward Gertrude differs from Hamlet’s because I have sympathy for her. I think she means well and isn’t able to fully understand Hamlet’s words when he accuses her of being blind to the whole situation of marrying the late king’s murderer. If she didn’t know that Claudius had murdered the late king, what exactly is she supposed to be guilty of, besides marrying soon after the death? But even so, that reason doesn’t need to be one that concerns that much guilt or guilt at all. Of course, with Hamlet’s suspicions when he says, “almost as bad, good Mother, as kill a king, and marry with his brother,” he seems to say that Gertrude was part of the plan to murder the late king (1540). If that were true, that would change a lot of things. For one, I wouldn’t have sympathy for her at all. But, as Gertrude’s character seems like a nice person who just wants peace and understanding, I doubt she took part in the plan. It’s just the fact that Hamlet’s being passive-aggressive in Act III with his mother because she didn’t know that Claudius is the murderer. My sympathy for Gertrude grows as the play continues because she’s essentially stuck with Claudius as a husband and Hamlet as a son: two people who are on opposing sides. Her loyalties lie with them both, and Claudius and Hamlet are pulling her in two different directions, both with their own cunning styles of work. (451)
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Antigone vs. Creon
Through the story of Antigone arises the debate between the importance and the moral righteousness of family obligations versus those of the state, two important aspects in the lives of Antigone and Creon. These two characters may have differing ideas when it comes to the burial of Polyneices, but their motives behind each idea are more similar than different. Likewise, the personalities of both characters, displayed behind each motive, coincide rather than collide. As stated in the Literature book, “Though the gods approve of her [Antigone’s] action, she dies a victim of Creon’s hubris (Or perhaps, as Patricia Lines suggests on page 1358, Antigone’s own hubris is her downfall)” (1323). With this idea, it could be suggested that Antigone died a victim of both her hubris and Creon’s hubris, two ideas that have more similarities than differences.
Antigone begins by attempting to recruit her sister Ismene into helping her bury their brother Polyneices, whom Creon has refused to have a proper burial for. Antigone’s headstrong language, shown through her persistence when she later says to Creon, “Then I beg you: kill me,” and when stating to Ismene, “You shall not lessen my death by sharing it” demonstrate Antigone’s own pride. Likewise, Creon reveals a different type of pride but pride nonetheless when he refuses to listen to his son Haimon, belittling his own son when stating “You consider it right for a man of my years and experience to go to school to a boy?” (1339). Through these statements, Antigone and Creon both illustrate the dangers of pride.
Antigone attempts to guilt Ismene into burying their brother when she talks about Ismene’s lack of respect for not only their family obligations but also the law of the gods. Similarly, Creon attempts to guilt the entire city against Polyneices when he reminds the people that Polyneices went against his native city as a traitor. The mindsets of Antigone and Creon are overzealously begrudged with pride, the one thing that drives their ultimate downfalls.
The debate between family obligations versus those of the state is an important one, but through Antigone’s and Creon’s eyes, we are able to see that both mindsets behind the differing opinions are one in the same. Neither side is right, nor wrong; it is each person’s own arrogant sense of pride that drives the motive behind each opinion. Antigone may very well truly want to honor her family obligations, so as to bury Polyneices, but if her sense of pride had failed, would she have been so keen as to disobey the law that Creon has made? Likewise, Creon may have felt as strongly as he did about refusing to bury Polyneices, as he was a traitor, but could he truly not understand Antigone’s point and loyalty as the sister of Polyneices? If both characters had moved past the arrogant pride that they both possess, maybe the ending to this story would have been different. But then again, if that was what Fate had arranged for them, who can argue with that? (505)
Antigone begins by attempting to recruit her sister Ismene into helping her bury their brother Polyneices, whom Creon has refused to have a proper burial for. Antigone’s headstrong language, shown through her persistence when she later says to Creon, “Then I beg you: kill me,” and when stating to Ismene, “You shall not lessen my death by sharing it” demonstrate Antigone’s own pride. Likewise, Creon reveals a different type of pride but pride nonetheless when he refuses to listen to his son Haimon, belittling his own son when stating “You consider it right for a man of my years and experience to go to school to a boy?” (1339). Through these statements, Antigone and Creon both illustrate the dangers of pride.
Antigone attempts to guilt Ismene into burying their brother when she talks about Ismene’s lack of respect for not only their family obligations but also the law of the gods. Similarly, Creon attempts to guilt the entire city against Polyneices when he reminds the people that Polyneices went against his native city as a traitor. The mindsets of Antigone and Creon are overzealously begrudged with pride, the one thing that drives their ultimate downfalls.
The debate between family obligations versus those of the state is an important one, but through Antigone’s and Creon’s eyes, we are able to see that both mindsets behind the differing opinions are one in the same. Neither side is right, nor wrong; it is each person’s own arrogant sense of pride that drives the motive behind each opinion. Antigone may very well truly want to honor her family obligations, so as to bury Polyneices, but if her sense of pride had failed, would she have been so keen as to disobey the law that Creon has made? Likewise, Creon may have felt as strongly as he did about refusing to bury Polyneices, as he was a traitor, but could he truly not understand Antigone’s point and loyalty as the sister of Polyneices? If both characters had moved past the arrogant pride that they both possess, maybe the ending to this story would have been different. But then again, if that was what Fate had arranged for them, who can argue with that? (505)
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Time, Nature, and Neutral Tones
With the symbolic images of nature, specifically a pond, a white sun, and grayish leaves that had fallen from an ash, weaved through Thomas Hardy’s “Neutral Tones,” it is no wonder that a reader retrieves a pessimistic message from this poem. And yet, going beyond the pessimistic message within the words themselves, did Hardy mean to incorporate a neutral tone rather than a pessimistic one in this poem? Or did he use neutral-colored tones as a way of presenting a pessimistic message?
Does every loving relationship end because of time? When the leaves turn gray and begin to fall on the ground, near a pond; when one finally gives up on “tedious riddles of years ago”; when that smile once on your face quietly dies into a frown, it is time that takes the toll on the once-loving relationship in “Neutral Tones.” With the recurring, picturesque yet somber images of nature, the speaker shows that every single thing in life changes based on time, just as nature does. Nature’s leaves begin to turn gray and fall during the winter season, just as the relationship has in this poem. Why is the poem entitled “Neutral Tones,” seeing as the message isn’t a neutral one? Perhaps time takes a toll on everything, so there is an inevitability that something, or everything, will end one day. If something is merely “[a]live enough to have strength to die,” the speaker fails to present the happiness that comes with something being alive; the speaker merely shows that everything alive ends with a death. The speaker seems to deliver his or her thoughts in a completely neutral tone of voice, with no anger, no hurt, no resentment, no emotion, even though the words that form the speaker’s thoughts have pessimistic undertones. The speaker seems to have expected the relationship to end, merely because everything has an end to it. Although the first three stanzas arguably describe one specific incident that leads to the demise of the relationship, the stanzas barely seem specific enough for only one incident; rather, it seems to describe an array of reoccurrences that became too predictable. Therefore, the relationship’s taking a downward turn was long foreseen by the speaker.
Is an inevitability of time the only reason the speaker uses nature as a backdrop to compare to a relationship ending? The speaker seems to be trying to lose himself or herself into nature to make the downfall of the relationship appear less pessimistic, perhaps, more neutral, hence the neutral-colored tones of the poem. But at the same time, he or she cannot avoid the reality of the situation, the downfall of the relationship, so he or she continually sees the darkness within nature, shown through the images surrounding a winter day: a pond, a white sun, and a few gray leaves on the “starving sod.” A pond is something that is able to reflect back an image, like a mirror, so one can see oneself and others. And yet, a pond would not produce a clear image. To me, the first three stanzas describe an incident that was a bit fuzzy and didn’t happen in a heartbeat but instead has been occurring for a long time, just as nature doesn’t suddenly change; it gradually transforms. Is the speaker neutral because he or she doesn’t know what to make of the image in the pond that he or she cannot clearly picture? The next symbol in nature was the white sun. It’s almost as if the relationship was something once brightly colored and then turned into the neutral tone of white, “as though chidden of God,” adding to a somber atmosphere.
All in all, Hardy seems to use nature as a way of representing both the fact that time changes everything and the fact that nature can be used as a way of making something seem lighter than it actually is. The image of nature that the speaker pictured during the downfall of the relationship is an image that will stick in his or her mind. As in the last stanza, when the speaker says “Since then, keen lessons that love deceives, / And wrings with wrong, have shaped to me / Your face, and the God-curst sun, and a tree, / And a pond edged with grayish leaves,” the speaker seems to say that every time he or she goes through a similar situation, the images of the first three stanzas nonchalantly come to mind. (743)
Does every loving relationship end because of time? When the leaves turn gray and begin to fall on the ground, near a pond; when one finally gives up on “tedious riddles of years ago”; when that smile once on your face quietly dies into a frown, it is time that takes the toll on the once-loving relationship in “Neutral Tones.” With the recurring, picturesque yet somber images of nature, the speaker shows that every single thing in life changes based on time, just as nature does. Nature’s leaves begin to turn gray and fall during the winter season, just as the relationship has in this poem. Why is the poem entitled “Neutral Tones,” seeing as the message isn’t a neutral one? Perhaps time takes a toll on everything, so there is an inevitability that something, or everything, will end one day. If something is merely “[a]live enough to have strength to die,” the speaker fails to present the happiness that comes with something being alive; the speaker merely shows that everything alive ends with a death. The speaker seems to deliver his or her thoughts in a completely neutral tone of voice, with no anger, no hurt, no resentment, no emotion, even though the words that form the speaker’s thoughts have pessimistic undertones. The speaker seems to have expected the relationship to end, merely because everything has an end to it. Although the first three stanzas arguably describe one specific incident that leads to the demise of the relationship, the stanzas barely seem specific enough for only one incident; rather, it seems to describe an array of reoccurrences that became too predictable. Therefore, the relationship’s taking a downward turn was long foreseen by the speaker.
Is an inevitability of time the only reason the speaker uses nature as a backdrop to compare to a relationship ending? The speaker seems to be trying to lose himself or herself into nature to make the downfall of the relationship appear less pessimistic, perhaps, more neutral, hence the neutral-colored tones of the poem. But at the same time, he or she cannot avoid the reality of the situation, the downfall of the relationship, so he or she continually sees the darkness within nature, shown through the images surrounding a winter day: a pond, a white sun, and a few gray leaves on the “starving sod.” A pond is something that is able to reflect back an image, like a mirror, so one can see oneself and others. And yet, a pond would not produce a clear image. To me, the first three stanzas describe an incident that was a bit fuzzy and didn’t happen in a heartbeat but instead has been occurring for a long time, just as nature doesn’t suddenly change; it gradually transforms. Is the speaker neutral because he or she doesn’t know what to make of the image in the pond that he or she cannot clearly picture? The next symbol in nature was the white sun. It’s almost as if the relationship was something once brightly colored and then turned into the neutral tone of white, “as though chidden of God,” adding to a somber atmosphere.
All in all, Hardy seems to use nature as a way of representing both the fact that time changes everything and the fact that nature can be used as a way of making something seem lighter than it actually is. The image of nature that the speaker pictured during the downfall of the relationship is an image that will stick in his or her mind. As in the last stanza, when the speaker says “Since then, keen lessons that love deceives, / And wrings with wrong, have shaped to me / Your face, and the God-curst sun, and a tree, / And a pond edged with grayish leaves,” the speaker seems to say that every time he or she goes through a similar situation, the images of the first three stanzas nonchalantly come to mind. (743)
Sunday, December 6, 2009
One Man, One Journey, One Lesson, Two Novels
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)
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)
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).
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