Written by poet Theodore Roethke, "Last Class" is a prose experiment that reads a lot like a really long poem, but is probably better classified as prose. I'm sure there are plenty of arguments for either side, but in the end, Roethke chose to format it as prose, so guess what, it's prose.
This is not my favorite form, but the experiment has merits. I personally didn't enjoy reading "Last Class" very much, because it was difficult to read. However, there is legitimacy is the poetic images Roethke creates throughout the piece which made the class in the story vivid and real. I especially liked the short descriptions of the different types of people in the class, like the quince, the bufflehead, and brain girl.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Friday, November 7, 2008
Thought we were banished from poetry in this class...
Yeah, I know, it's not a poem. The style and word play and random, vivid imagery conjures thoughts and feels of poetry throughout; it is one long poet's monologue. But, despite it's heavy poetic feel, this story is still a story.
I don't get it. I tried. I think a sense of time would have helped. I'm not sure if this is his token "this whole thing was my own sick joke, now get out of here and go fuck yourselves if this is the first time you're catching on" speech that he gives on the last day of every class, or if this his own goodbye to his teaching career and this is how he chooses to go out. I'm not sure if the various faculty (The Creep, The Quince, Bullo, etc.) and students (Eulalea Mae, Patricia Jane, Hell-for-Stuff, etc.) are the categories into which he has placed individuals over the course of the semester or his career, or if they are specific individuals, as he refers to them with gender-specific pronouns. I never had a sense of the "when," and that bothered me.
On the one hand, I feel like the man's (I'm assuming the teacher in question is a man) lambasting his class openly for the first time in a way that he has been subtly for the duration of the time he has spent with both his students and his faculty peers. He talks about everyone's potential to have caught "some sly generous hint from the unconcious...from the side of my mouth," implying that despite what he was trying to do, something true, or at least genuine, slipped in there. Perhaps this is his own assault on the requirements of teaching a specific part of a specific curriculum to a specific sect of students? So perhaps he's saying "It's all bullshit. If you didn't catch it before now, you're an idiot. And if you didn't think I knew you were trying to play me, you're an idiot." It feels like the guy has a lot of bottled up malice and he finally explodes.
On the other hand, I get a sense of feelings of meaninglessness and worthlessness, that he's taught what he wanted and how he knew to the best of his abilities, but in his mind in never came out quite right, and was always received wrong. Perhaps, every once in awhile, someone was able to see the forest for the trees, to understand that a discussion and exploration of a long-ago-published sonnet can be the exact same as breaking down and understanding the self. But he can't openly say that. And I feel like maybe he wants to, maybe he's tortured and self-loathing for his refusal or fear or inability to do so, but regardless, he can't and this is only chance at a safe outlet.
This was a bitch to read. The playful, lyrical tone made me feel like I was constantly missing one thing for trying to remain focused on the image of something just-mentioned and then long-gone. But I liked it. The wit. The snarkiness. The repressed anger. The holier-than-thou attitude and judgement. He combined all of these human elements with the occasional concrete, vivid description, and despite the fact that we don't get any real scene, we still see something (albeit likely entirely different from one of us to the next) in our own heads. I thought it was an interesting approach.
I don't get it. I tried. I think a sense of time would have helped. I'm not sure if this is his token "this whole thing was my own sick joke, now get out of here and go fuck yourselves if this is the first time you're catching on" speech that he gives on the last day of every class, or if this his own goodbye to his teaching career and this is how he chooses to go out. I'm not sure if the various faculty (The Creep, The Quince, Bullo, etc.) and students (Eulalea Mae, Patricia Jane, Hell-for-Stuff, etc.) are the categories into which he has placed individuals over the course of the semester or his career, or if they are specific individuals, as he refers to them with gender-specific pronouns. I never had a sense of the "when," and that bothered me.
On the one hand, I feel like the man's (I'm assuming the teacher in question is a man) lambasting his class openly for the first time in a way that he has been subtly for the duration of the time he has spent with both his students and his faculty peers. He talks about everyone's potential to have caught "some sly generous hint from the unconcious...from the side of my mouth," implying that despite what he was trying to do, something true, or at least genuine, slipped in there. Perhaps this is his own assault on the requirements of teaching a specific part of a specific curriculum to a specific sect of students? So perhaps he's saying "It's all bullshit. If you didn't catch it before now, you're an idiot. And if you didn't think I knew you were trying to play me, you're an idiot." It feels like the guy has a lot of bottled up malice and he finally explodes.
On the other hand, I get a sense of feelings of meaninglessness and worthlessness, that he's taught what he wanted and how he knew to the best of his abilities, but in his mind in never came out quite right, and was always received wrong. Perhaps, every once in awhile, someone was able to see the forest for the trees, to understand that a discussion and exploration of a long-ago-published sonnet can be the exact same as breaking down and understanding the self. But he can't openly say that. And I feel like maybe he wants to, maybe he's tortured and self-loathing for his refusal or fear or inability to do so, but regardless, he can't and this is only chance at a safe outlet.
This was a bitch to read. The playful, lyrical tone made me feel like I was constantly missing one thing for trying to remain focused on the image of something just-mentioned and then long-gone. But I liked it. The wit. The snarkiness. The repressed anger. The holier-than-thou attitude and judgement. He combined all of these human elements with the occasional concrete, vivid description, and despite the fact that we don't get any real scene, we still see something (albeit likely entirely different from one of us to the next) in our own heads. I thought it was an interesting approach.
Undecided
As my title reas, I'm quite undecided on how I feel about last class. I think, overall, there are so very brilliant things in here, but at the same time there's a lot of "flab" in here that really keep the story from being great.
I'll start with the brilliant, which would absolutely have to be headlined be Roethke's second paragraph concerning the faculty. This paragraph is full of fantastic truths ("verbal about everything except what they know") and strong aliteration ("just plain nutty - at least aren't dull"). I believe what makes this part strong compared to other parts of the story (I do, however, think there are other parts that are just as strong) is there's nothing overdone. I don't feel overwhelmed as a reader, but at the same time I don't feel spoonfed. There's just enough going on where I do have to do some critical thinking in my comprehension, but I can still have a nice flow to my reading pace. I also really like particularly here how Roethke follows up this paragraph with the next where he does include himself and proclaims the we of the faculity, including himself in his harsh analization - which I find hilarious and honest.
The not-so-brilliant revolves around Roethke's pounding of adjectives and quick phrases throughout the story. For me, a lot of parts felt like a twisted piece of poetry rather than work of straight up prose. Probably the first page and a half of the story is very overwhelming. I felt like I had to stop much too often in order to gather what was being said and how it was being said. This caused me to lose interest, and it wasn't until my second reading that I had a sense of understanding with this story (honestly). Also, I felt a lot of this story was "forced" (if that makes sense) - that Roethke tried desperately in some places to create this ovewhelming voice. There's a certain arrogance I perceive from that which I don't like.
Overall, though, it was an interesting read. It definitely gave me a lot to think about.
I'll start with the brilliant, which would absolutely have to be headlined be Roethke's second paragraph concerning the faculty. This paragraph is full of fantastic truths ("verbal about everything except what they know") and strong aliteration ("just plain nutty - at least aren't dull"). I believe what makes this part strong compared to other parts of the story (I do, however, think there are other parts that are just as strong) is there's nothing overdone. I don't feel overwhelmed as a reader, but at the same time I don't feel spoonfed. There's just enough going on where I do have to do some critical thinking in my comprehension, but I can still have a nice flow to my reading pace. I also really like particularly here how Roethke follows up this paragraph with the next where he does include himself and proclaims the we of the faculity, including himself in his harsh analization - which I find hilarious and honest.
The not-so-brilliant revolves around Roethke's pounding of adjectives and quick phrases throughout the story. For me, a lot of parts felt like a twisted piece of poetry rather than work of straight up prose. Probably the first page and a half of the story is very overwhelming. I felt like I had to stop much too often in order to gather what was being said and how it was being said. This caused me to lose interest, and it wasn't until my second reading that I had a sense of understanding with this story (honestly). Also, I felt a lot of this story was "forced" (if that makes sense) - that Roethke tried desperately in some places to create this ovewhelming voice. There's a certain arrogance I perceive from that which I don't like.
Overall, though, it was an interesting read. It definitely gave me a lot to think about.
Roethke's "Last Class"
Whether Roethke’s Last Class was an endearing goodbye masked as a rough and harsh recounting of all the things the group had endured and the people they know or as a fictional salute to the young women—I have no clue. I read and re-read the first page so many times, and I still couldn’t for the life of me figure out what to make of it, what it meant, etc. I understand that, much like the title, this is the narrator’s last class to teach his group of students he’s watched blossom throughout the years, but why Roethke decides to be so vicious about it (if it is to be construed that way; I can also see it as a sarcastic joke) is beyond me.
Roethke’s images, to say the least, are unique and poignant and sharp to the eye. I can safely say I’ve never read something like, “Poems with all the charm (if they didn’t lay eggs) of aborted salamanders,” or “the female hill-billy that learned to count.” These descriptions paint such accurate pictures of the things they’re describing that it made me want to so desperately understand the overall attempt this piece was making, but, I just couldn’t get there. The only part that I really enjoyed or made true sense of, I should say, was the rundown of the individual faculty members and the names he gives to all of them. It’s plain to see, just by the language and tone, that between the narrator and the girls, these nicknames have special significance and portrays the particular person exactly. The same goes for the descriptions of the girls themselves. This makes me believe the narrator wants to leave the girls with tough skins, so to speak, but, maybe not.
I like Roethke's poetry immensely, and as for this piece, it wasn’t bad, and I’m sure there is some deeper significance in it somewhere, but presented as is, in this packet, standing alone, it just seemed strange and awkward, with pretty lines to cover up the mean edges.
Roethke’s images, to say the least, are unique and poignant and sharp to the eye. I can safely say I’ve never read something like, “Poems with all the charm (if they didn’t lay eggs) of aborted salamanders,” or “the female hill-billy that learned to count.” These descriptions paint such accurate pictures of the things they’re describing that it made me want to so desperately understand the overall attempt this piece was making, but, I just couldn’t get there. The only part that I really enjoyed or made true sense of, I should say, was the rundown of the individual faculty members and the names he gives to all of them. It’s plain to see, just by the language and tone, that between the narrator and the girls, these nicknames have special significance and portrays the particular person exactly. The same goes for the descriptions of the girls themselves. This makes me believe the narrator wants to leave the girls with tough skins, so to speak, but, maybe not.
I like Roethke's poetry immensely, and as for this piece, it wasn’t bad, and I’m sure there is some deeper significance in it somewhere, but presented as is, in this packet, standing alone, it just seemed strange and awkward, with pretty lines to cover up the mean edges.
Thought we were banished from poetry in this class...
Yeah, I know, it's not a poem. The style and word play and random, vivid imagery conjures thoughts and feels of poetry throughout; it is one long poet's monologue. But, despite it's heavy poetic feel, this story is still a story.
I don't get it. I tried. I think a sense of time would have helped. I'm not sure if this is his token "this whole thing was my own sick joke, now get out of here and go fuck yourselves if this is the first time you're catching on" speech that he gives on the last day of every class, or if this his own goodbye to his teaching career and this is how he chooses to go out. I'm not sure if the various faculty (The Creep, The Quince, Bullo, etc.) and students (Eulalea Mae, Patricia Jane, Hell-for-Stuff, etc.) are the categories into which he has placed individuals over the course of the semester or his career, or if they are specific individuals, as he refers to them with gender-specific pronouns. I never had a sense of the "when," and that bothered me.
On the one hand, I feel like the man's (I'm assuming the teacher in question is a man) lambasting his class openly for the first time in a way that he has been subtly for the duration of the time he has spent with both his students and his faculty peers. He talks about everyone's potential to have caught "some sly generous hint from the unconcious...from the side of my mouth," implying that despite what he was trying to do, something true, or at least genuine, slipped in there. Perhaps this is his own assault on the requirements of teaching a specific part of a specific curriculum to a specific sect of students? So perhaps he's saying "It's all bullshit. If you didn't catch it before now, you're an idiot. And if you didn't think I knew you were trying to play me, you're an idiot." It feels like the guy has a lot of bottled up malice and he finally explodes.
On the other hand, I get a sense of feelings of meaninglessness and worthlessness, that he's taught what he wanted and how he knew to the best of his abilities, but in his mind in never came out quite right, and was always received wrong. Perhaps, every once in awhile, someone was able to see the forest for the trees, to understand that a discussion and exploration of a long-ago-published sonnet can be the exact same as breaking down and understanding the self. But he can't openly say that. And I feel like maybe he wants to, maybe he's tortured and self-loathing for his refusal or fear or inability to do so, but regardless, he can't and this is only chance at a safe outlet.
This was a bitch to read. The playful, lyrical tone made me feel like I was constantly missing one thing for trying to remain focused on the image of something just-mentioned and then long-gone. But I liked it. The wit. The snarkiness. The repressed anger. The holier-than-thou attitude and judgement. He combined all of these human elements with the occasional concrete, vivid description, and despite the fact that we don't get any real scene, we still see something (albeit likely entirely different from one of us to the next) in our own heads. I thought it was an interesting approach.
I don't get it. I tried. I think a sense of time would have helped. I'm not sure if this is his token "this whole thing was my own sick joke, now get out of here and go fuck yourselves if this is the first time you're catching on" speech that he gives on the last day of every class, or if this his own goodbye to his teaching career and this is how he chooses to go out. I'm not sure if the various faculty (The Creep, The Quince, Bullo, etc.) and students (Eulalea Mae, Patricia Jane, Hell-for-Stuff, etc.) are the categories into which he has placed individuals over the course of the semester or his career, or if they are specific individuals, as he refers to them with gender-specific pronouns. I never had a sense of the "when," and that bothered me.
On the one hand, I feel like the man's (I'm assuming the teacher in question is a man) lambasting his class openly for the first time in a way that he has been subtly for the duration of the time he has spent with both his students and his faculty peers. He talks about everyone's potential to have caught "some sly generous hint from the unconcious...from the side of my mouth," implying that despite what he was trying to do, something true, or at least genuine, slipped in there. Perhaps this is his own assault on the requirements of teaching a specific part of a specific curriculum to a specific sect of students? So perhaps he's saying "It's all bullshit. If you didn't catch it before now, you're an idiot. And if you didn't think I knew you were trying to play me, you're an idiot." It feels like the guy has a lot of bottled up malice and he finally explodes.
On the other hand, I get a sense of feelings of meaninglessness and worthlessness, that he's taught what he wanted and how he knew to the best of his abilities, but in his mind in never came out quite right, and was always received wrong. Perhaps, every once in awhile, someone was able to see the forest for the trees, to understand that a discussion and exploration of a long-ago-published sonnet can be the exact same as breaking down and understanding the self. But he can't openly say that. And I feel like maybe he wants to, maybe he's tortured and self-loathing for his refusal or fear or inability to do so, but regardless, he can't and this is only chance at a safe outlet.
This was a bitch to read. The playful, lyrical tone made me feel like I was constantly missing one thing for trying to remain focused on the image of something just-mentioned and then long-gone. But I liked it. The wit. The snarkiness. The repressed anger. The holier-than-thou attitude and judgement. He combined all of these human elements with the occasional concrete, vivid description, and despite the fact that we don't get any real scene, we still see something (albeit likely entirely different from one of us to the next) in our own heads. I thought it was an interesting approach.
Last Class
Theodore Roethke's Last Class was a piece of prose that flirted with verse so hard she got turned on and helped lead the prose to the bedroom.
What I'm saying here is that the language used by Roethke to give the reader images as well as ideas was simply phenominal. For example, the description of the Faculty as "a community that so honors the creative it just sucks it right up bones, blood and all." This is very interesting, considering the paradoxial nature of creativity being taught in the first place. This creativity is "honored" within the school by those who teach it, by destroying it, bleeding it dry.
We go on to read about who comprises the faculty, descritptions such as "Bonwit Teller tough guys, drama boys...fugitives from the loony bin...toads, second-cousins" give the reader something to think about. The images are not immediately recognized. You don't see a toad, you get an idea of a person who is like a toad. The reader has to slow down to absorb this particular kind of language. My personal favorite descritpion of faculty: "poops and prophets."
The reader then goes on to receive descriptions of some of the faculty, such as The Creep. More poetic verse is used here to describe the Creep as being from the "Waltz-me-around-again-Heine-I-Hear-You-Calling-Cleanth school." Just typing that emphasizes how Roethke wants the reader to slow down and absorb his conveying verses.
This was an interesting read and gives good ideas (mind the pun) to apply to our future works.
What I'm saying here is that the language used by Roethke to give the reader images as well as ideas was simply phenominal. For example, the description of the Faculty as "a community that so honors the creative it just sucks it right up bones, blood and all." This is very interesting, considering the paradoxial nature of creativity being taught in the first place. This creativity is "honored" within the school by those who teach it, by destroying it, bleeding it dry.
We go on to read about who comprises the faculty, descritptions such as "Bonwit Teller tough guys, drama boys...fugitives from the loony bin...toads, second-cousins" give the reader something to think about. The images are not immediately recognized. You don't see a toad, you get an idea of a person who is like a toad. The reader has to slow down to absorb this particular kind of language. My personal favorite descritpion of faculty: "poops and prophets."
The reader then goes on to receive descriptions of some of the faculty, such as The Creep. More poetic verse is used here to describe the Creep as being from the "Waltz-me-around-again-Heine-I-Hear-You-Calling-Cleanth school." Just typing that emphasizes how Roethke wants the reader to slow down and absorb his conveying verses.
This was an interesting read and gives good ideas (mind the pun) to apply to our future works.
Last Class
I really enjoyed reading this piece. The language is a little dense but it it well written. However, I kept thinking that it would have been better read aloud or acted out. It just seems like one of those pieces that comes alive and needs to be out loud. I love the way it almost feels like an intellectual roast of a group of people. The inuslts are harsh and intelligent. But they are also playful at the same time. I think this piece was much better than the last one. I mean some of the word choices tripped me up like "beatific bestiality". He uses a lot of phrases that an average person wouldn't put together but he makes it work well. Once I slowed down and focused on some of the phrases I understood more. This is definitely not a piece you can just whiz through. He makes you slow down and savor his words. I like that. And I have to say that I loved the phrase "small-fry sadists". That was great. I did not understand everything he was mentioning but on the other hand I felt like this was a lot of inside jokes so maybe I wasn't meant to understand everything. It worked well for me.
Roethke
Out of all the stories we have read this semester, Roethke’s story is my favorite. I love how as the reader I am instantly forced into the story and given all the details I need in order to coherently follow the structure of the story. The structure and dialogue of the story is very well written, molding the ambiguity of the inner dialogue with that that has been said in such a way that the read doesn’t become “bogged down” in information.
The best part of the story is the different sections of the story. Each section has a subtitle and within that subtitle are simple words and phrases that describe what each section is about. I have never thought to experiment writing a story that is broken in to subtitles and allow for the subtitles to move the plot along. However, the only real plot development, as far as I can tell, is that of Eulalea Mae, although I’m not quite sure what her purpose is to the story.
I am still confused as to what the author wants to show with this story. What is the over all message? The beginning definition or phrase at the top of the story leads me to think of the story as going in one direction but when Eulalea Mae is finally mentioned, I become a lost for words. This reminds me of the Gerbil, yet it is safe to say that in both stories the Gerbil and Eulalea Mae serve as a catalyst for some thing, though I’m worried that catalyst is only to get us through the story.
I wouldn’t mind reading other stories by Roethke, though I’m worried that since I really liked this one, I probably wouldn’t like any of the other ones. Oh well.
The best part of the story is the different sections of the story. Each section has a subtitle and within that subtitle are simple words and phrases that describe what each section is about. I have never thought to experiment writing a story that is broken in to subtitles and allow for the subtitles to move the plot along. However, the only real plot development, as far as I can tell, is that of Eulalea Mae, although I’m not quite sure what her purpose is to the story.
I am still confused as to what the author wants to show with this story. What is the over all message? The beginning definition or phrase at the top of the story leads me to think of the story as going in one direction but when Eulalea Mae is finally mentioned, I become a lost for words. This reminds me of the Gerbil, yet it is safe to say that in both stories the Gerbil and Eulalea Mae serve as a catalyst for some thing, though I’m worried that catalyst is only to get us through the story.
I wouldn’t mind reading other stories by Roethke, though I’m worried that since I really liked this one, I probably wouldn’t like any of the other ones. Oh well.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
What I learned from "last class"
Roethke has successfully done what I have been trying to do for four stories. He does the no-quotations-dialogue, which makes it ambiguous whether someone is talking or thinking, blends inner monologue what’s going on in the story, and makes you sympathize with the character with its strong sense of first-person. His was appropriate and successful, while mine, as many of you have commented, often isn’t.
But now I have insight into why it sometimes work and sometimes doesn’t. I throw my no-quotation trick in with a vast menagerie of other literary devices, as well as actions and plot twists. Roethke’s, on the hand, takes up the entire story – it basically is the story. The entire piece is one big no-quotations trick.
Obviously, this serves to prevent confusion. There’s never time when you ask, “Is he speaking now, or thinking?” Secondly, his trick gets the opportunity to really blossom and make us laugh over and over again, because it doesn’t interfere with other things, ,or slow down what is happening.
Roethke’s story is not really a narrative in the conventional sense – there’s no story arc. He magnifies one single scene from the life of his character that probably played out in about 10 minutes. There are no actions that he has to rhythmically intertwine with his monologue. There is no grand theme that he must collectively point all of his dialogue in the direction of – the grand theme is inherently in the dialogue. He is not bogging down the story with his prose because there is no story to bog down.
And what little action does occur in the story, he pulls off through the dialogue: “As for you, Eulalea Mae – please rise when I name you individually.”
So he is free to insert as many jokes as he wants to. He piles them on top of one another, and they get better and better because they are so excessive. At no point do I yawn and say, “Where is this leading?” because I know it isn’t leading anywhere.
So that’s the lesson I learned from Roethke. If you are going to do the no-quotations trick, and blend inner monologue with verbal speech and action, inner monologue has to be a centric part of the project, if not the only part.
Friday, October 31, 2008
George Saudners' Jon
It took a few pages for me to get used to the language and style of George Saunders' story, and for the first few paragraphs, I was rather put off. There were so many which's and what's and this is, that is, which is , who is-- I got confused and had to slow myself from skimming a greater part of the story.
I kept reading though, and I was happy to see that Saunders' story, despite its awkward, albeit occasionally charming style choice, his characters were interesting, the narrative extremely original, and his off-the-cuff sense of humor was absolutely marvelous.
What really struck me in this story were the details. The trademark after Aurabon, little phrases like "baby belly," the stores and modern references, or even just the repetition of Baby Amber, made this piece seem more real, almost like I could imagine myself in the facilities and doing the assessments on Ginger-Diet Coke.
I will say, since there wasn't a whole lot of exposition, I was a little confused on what exactly was taking place, or rather where everything was taking place, but I also think that added to the story. The point of the piece, I'm still trying to figure out. I get the brainwashing and the idea of utopian society through marketing and conformity, but, well, that's all I get.
The part about a man being called a rabbit when he was once a lion, the use of dude throughout the piece, and just, the odd bits-- this story really baffled me, and I can't quite get my head around it, but I enjoyed it. I was really pulling for Jon and Carolyn too.
I kept reading though, and I was happy to see that Saunders' story, despite its awkward, albeit occasionally charming style choice, his characters were interesting, the narrative extremely original, and his off-the-cuff sense of humor was absolutely marvelous.
What really struck me in this story were the details. The trademark after Aurabon, little phrases like "baby belly," the stores and modern references, or even just the repetition of Baby Amber, made this piece seem more real, almost like I could imagine myself in the facilities and doing the assessments on Ginger-Diet Coke.
I will say, since there wasn't a whole lot of exposition, I was a little confused on what exactly was taking place, or rather where everything was taking place, but I also think that added to the story. The point of the piece, I'm still trying to figure out. I get the brainwashing and the idea of utopian society through marketing and conformity, but, well, that's all I get.
The part about a man being called a rabbit when he was once a lion, the use of dude throughout the piece, and just, the odd bits-- this story really baffled me, and I can't quite get my head around it, but I enjoyed it. I was really pulling for Jon and Carolyn too.
I'd like to write this in commercialized form...
...but I don't think I'm that brainwashed yet.
This piece was an interesting mix of science fiction and social commentary, yes. In a nutshell, as I understood it, the characters live in a futuristic America composed of the Haves, those totally owned and subservient to the consumer culture, and the Have Nots, the average Joes that aren't brainwashed by the commercialization of society and don't enjoy the same comforts as their counterparts.
Saunders' choice of voice for the narrator grew on me. Initially, I had no idea whether the narrator was a child, teen, or adult, whether he was fully competent or somewhat retarded, and why he kept referring to LI's. I still don't know how old he is suppose to be, and I don't know what would constitute "mental retardation" in this society, as everyone seems to be, in their own way, mentally deficient. But after awhile it didn't bother me; I just took Jon/Randy for the entity that he is, a confused man in a transitional period in his life.
I thought this society was an interesting setting for a coming-of-age tale. And while I certainly think that Saunders was condemning how commercialized our own society is (children sold into luxurious slavery by incapable parents and raised on consumer comforts, I agree, that's fucked), I feel like the crux of his story was Jon's choice. We recognize and empathize with his feelings of fear and anxiety, happiness and comfort, and we pull for him to do the "right" thing, make the scary choice, and get the fuck out of there.
If nothing else, this was unique. I like that Saunders took such a random-yet-well-planned course to write about simple (but obviously complex) human emotion and feeling. It's something I think I'll try soon in my own work.
This piece was an interesting mix of science fiction and social commentary, yes. In a nutshell, as I understood it, the characters live in a futuristic America composed of the Haves, those totally owned and subservient to the consumer culture, and the Have Nots, the average Joes that aren't brainwashed by the commercialization of society and don't enjoy the same comforts as their counterparts.
Saunders' choice of voice for the narrator grew on me. Initially, I had no idea whether the narrator was a child, teen, or adult, whether he was fully competent or somewhat retarded, and why he kept referring to LI's. I still don't know how old he is suppose to be, and I don't know what would constitute "mental retardation" in this society, as everyone seems to be, in their own way, mentally deficient. But after awhile it didn't bother me; I just took Jon/Randy for the entity that he is, a confused man in a transitional period in his life.
I thought this society was an interesting setting for a coming-of-age tale. And while I certainly think that Saunders was condemning how commercialized our own society is (children sold into luxurious slavery by incapable parents and raised on consumer comforts, I agree, that's fucked), I feel like the crux of his story was Jon's choice. We recognize and empathize with his feelings of fear and anxiety, happiness and comfort, and we pull for him to do the "right" thing, make the scary choice, and get the fuck out of there.
If nothing else, this was unique. I like that Saunders took such a random-yet-well-planned course to write about simple (but obviously complex) human emotion and feeling. It's something I think I'll try soon in my own work.
Like looking inti the future...
This story was a pretty interesting read. I think it could have been a little shorter, but I stayed mildly entertained throughout. I guess the main thing that stood out to me was the obvious social commentary, which, honestly, I don't really think was that far out. I mean, sure, the world this tory takes place in seems absurd, but aren't some of these concepts of commercialization overtaking society at least metaphorically coming to pass? I honestly believe so.
Now, I would not dare compare Goerge Saunders to the likes of Ray Bradbury or Ayn Rand, but this story felt very much like the two mentione author's biggest novels. For instance, in Farenheit 451 we see this surreal world where the media controls all, big brother is ever so present, and books are hardly conceivable. That was a world Bradbury saw coming in his wildest imagination. Looking at it today it's obvious this degree of oppression and manipulation hasn't occured, but a lot of other similar concepts and aspects have. For instance, it's a known fact kids don't read, at all. It's an extremely small percent that actually read on a regular basis. And we can easily say the media controls almost everything about our lives. I think this presidential election is a great example. Look how all the major media outlets play with the public by sensationalizing stories concerning both major candidates. We associate ourselves and identity more with products or fictional characters that we see on the television than real life role models.
I really enjoy this topic, and definitely have played with stories concerning futuristic commercialism and media control. I often wonder if a world even remotely similar to this one could develope in my lifetime.
Now, I would not dare compare Goerge Saunders to the likes of Ray Bradbury or Ayn Rand, but this story felt very much like the two mentione author's biggest novels. For instance, in Farenheit 451 we see this surreal world where the media controls all, big brother is ever so present, and books are hardly conceivable. That was a world Bradbury saw coming in his wildest imagination. Looking at it today it's obvious this degree of oppression and manipulation hasn't occured, but a lot of other similar concepts and aspects have. For instance, it's a known fact kids don't read, at all. It's an extremely small percent that actually read on a regular basis. And we can easily say the media controls almost everything about our lives. I think this presidential election is a great example. Look how all the major media outlets play with the public by sensationalizing stories concerning both major candidates. We associate ourselves and identity more with products or fictional characters that we see on the television than real life role models.
I really enjoy this topic, and definitely have played with stories concerning futuristic commercialism and media control. I often wonder if a world even remotely similar to this one could develope in my lifetime.
I love minimalism, but I also like being oriented
I love the idea of a futuristic plutocracy where commercialism is so pervasive that kids can only express their feelings in terms of the advertisements they’ve seen. I also love the idea that crass cross-promotion and corporate celebrity-breeding have become so bad that corporations have started raising kids from birth and insulating them completely to make them perfect celebrities and to test their products in-depth. I loved it so much that I required more.
Just how disparate is this world from our own? The author gives clues that these focus-group homes exist all over the country (the kids win in the “
In an effort to be coy and perhaps move the story along quickly, Saunders leaves me disoriented and confused. Why were they blindfolded “for their own protection” on the way to the
Also, if this is a highly advanced market research and pretty-boy farming corporation who micromanages the lives of their case studies, how did they manage to overlook a dying infant?
Telling me important details, such as why these kids are there, and what those “holes” in their neck are for, would have helped a lot had they come near the beginning. Obviously, not telling me why the narrator has two given names was smart, and paid off at the end when you find out why, but there is no reason why I shouldn’t know what the holes were for up front. There’s no pay-off for that.
It seems like Saunders felt the need to limit this story to a certain number of words to assure readability, and instead of taking out unneeded expository dialogue such as Dove telling the narrator “That’s your mom,” (which we deduced any), he took out entire ideas that would have helped me understand his surreal world better.
These details are relevant to the plot and to the story’s implications, because this story is an indictment of culture. It is suggesting that our world is similar to, and might eventually become like the one in the story. It would help me to know more about the process. In a story about kids who are tragically products of their environment, I would have liked to know more about the environment.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
George Saunders
I really had a hard time understanding this story. It wasn't so much the structure as the grammar that tripped me up. I felt like I was being forced to become ADD to understand this story. I didn't feel any connection to any of the characters. I also got tripped up on the number thing. I felt like I ws thrust into a world that wasn't explained to me. I felt like a tourist. This story also carries many familiar tones with it. In the beginning it much like "Brave New World" but by the end it felt like "The Island" movie. It did not feel like an easy read but rather a forced read. I felt very much like an outsider. I didn't understand the motivations or society. I very quickly began skipping over the numbers because I felt like they were a waste to remember. However, the structure wasn't completely horrible. Though the way in which it was written like sentence structure really frustrated me and slowed me down. It was all in all an okay story.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
In response to George Saunders
The main thing that bothers me about George Saunders’s story is the way the story is structured. I was expecting to read a short story with a wonderful development of dialogue and over all paragraph structure. Instead I had to weed through a bunch of “like” and “she said he said” given to me from the view point of the author. After about ten pages into the story, and about triple that many uses of the word “like” (ect), I had to put the story down. My brain just could not continue.
For the most part, I did think the plot as well developed and I feel the best part of the entire story is at the beginning when Baby Amber dies. Yet the story still continued to read like a reflection conversation – imagine me retelling you a story and having to hear me constantly say, “And then she said…. And then he said…” and so forth. That was the most distracting part of the story. I wanted to give the story a chance and kept telling myself that this form of writing only happened at the beginning of the story. Yet I still kept finding it in the middle and toward the end of the story.
Another thing that drove me CRAZY in the story were the random sequences of numbers like LI 11121 inserted in the story. What the hell what that about? I kept trying to connect it to something, anything, but I’m not sure what to connect it to.
I think the story would have left a greater impression on me had I not been weeding through all these little things.
(And yes, I still want an explanation to the sequences of numbers.)
For the most part, I did think the plot as well developed and I feel the best part of the entire story is at the beginning when Baby Amber dies. Yet the story still continued to read like a reflection conversation – imagine me retelling you a story and having to hear me constantly say, “And then she said…. And then he said…” and so forth. That was the most distracting part of the story. I wanted to give the story a chance and kept telling myself that this form of writing only happened at the beginning of the story. Yet I still kept finding it in the middle and toward the end of the story.
Another thing that drove me CRAZY in the story were the random sequences of numbers like LI 11121 inserted in the story. What the hell what that about? I kept trying to connect it to something, anything, but I’m not sure what to connect it to.
I think the story would have left a greater impression on me had I not been weeding through all these little things.
(And yes, I still want an explanation to the sequences of numbers.)
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Carmer's Knights
I didn't much care for this one either. I think that it comes across as a water-downed version of the orginal. And this gets me thinking, how can someone who was a professor create such a crime? Was is it a simple forgetful error that he didn't give credit or did he actually think they were two separate pieces? How was this allowed to be published? Aren't there ways to prevent this sort of thing? Anyway, I really did not care for the original and this one even less.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Tuscaloosa Nights
I wasn't sure what to expect when I was told that this piece had been plagiarized, but I felt underwhelmed by the supposed plagiarization. While one small account in Carmer's piece somewhat resembles the entire story on which Vice's "Tuscaloosa Knights" is based, I didn't feel like I was reading a piece that was even remotely the same. While Vice's piece dealt with one particular fish-out-of-water incidence of a woman viewing human "evil" and then falling victim to her own inner desire, Carmer's piece read much more like a memoir or perhaps a cover story for a magazine; there wasn't any one "story" so much as there were accounts of the narrator's experiences while living and teaching in Tuscaloosa for six or so years.
I feel like the concept of Vice's piece being plagiarized is a contradiction to what I've been taught. All of my writing teachers have said, "If you like something, take it and run with it." I feel like that's exactly what Vice did. He found one small aspect of Carmer's book and said, "Hmm, what if I took this tiny instance and ran with it, really worked it out and turned it into something. What if it was a woman, and it was set now?" Granted, he should have been more up front in regards to Carmer's work as inspiration, but still, to refer to it as plagiarism feels like a stretch.
Focusing just on the Carmer excerpt, I enjoyed it. While it was set in Tuscaloosa, until the final chapter I felt, because of the difference in time periods, like I was a purerly fictitious "Anytown, USA" set in the early part of the century. I'm sure if I poured through the piece and picked out certain details I could more directly place certain events, but on first read it felt like it could have taken anywhere in the South or Midwest during that time period in America.
I enjoyed the blend of memoir and narrative. At times it felt more like I was reading the narrator's journal than "listening" to him tell a story. It broke the piece up very well and gave it an almost journalistic quality.
I enjoyed this piece more than Vice's. I think this is because it covers a greater subject matter of old-school Tuscaloosa, distancing me from it despite the fact that I'm a current resident and simultaneously not forcing me to associate myself with the vivid, borderline-despicable deeds of Vice's story.
I feel like the concept of Vice's piece being plagiarized is a contradiction to what I've been taught. All of my writing teachers have said, "If you like something, take it and run with it." I feel like that's exactly what Vice did. He found one small aspect of Carmer's book and said, "Hmm, what if I took this tiny instance and ran with it, really worked it out and turned it into something. What if it was a woman, and it was set now?" Granted, he should have been more up front in regards to Carmer's work as inspiration, but still, to refer to it as plagiarism feels like a stretch.
Focusing just on the Carmer excerpt, I enjoyed it. While it was set in Tuscaloosa, until the final chapter I felt, because of the difference in time periods, like I was a purerly fictitious "Anytown, USA" set in the early part of the century. I'm sure if I poured through the piece and picked out certain details I could more directly place certain events, but on first read it felt like it could have taken anywhere in the South or Midwest during that time period in America.
I enjoyed the blend of memoir and narrative. At times it felt more like I was reading the narrator's journal than "listening" to him tell a story. It broke the piece up very well and gave it an almost journalistic quality.
I enjoyed this piece more than Vice's. I think this is because it covers a greater subject matter of old-school Tuscaloosa, distancing me from it despite the fact that I'm a current resident and simultaneously not forcing me to associate myself with the vivid, borderline-despicable deeds of Vice's story.
"Tuscaloosa Nights" by Carl Carmer
I enjoyed reading "Tuscaloosa Nights." It had a real old-school feel to it. The first-person perspective worked well and the descriptions were excellent.
After reading Carmer's story, my original impression of Brad Vice's story is significantly diminished - not because of the plagiarized section, but because Carmer's story is that much better. Vice's prose pales in comparison to Carmer's. And I don't think such comparisons are unfair, due to the similarity of the stories.
One thing that was really obvious, and goes back to my review of Vice's story, is the way in which Carmer handles references to Tuscaloosa. In his story, they are essential and never distracting, even to me, which was a problem in Brad Vice's story.
While I don't think Vice's plagiarism was committed maliciously, he still used extremely bad judgement. It is also of note that he didn't just plagiarize the whole section without altering it, but made several changes which, in my opinion, were to the worse and cheapened Vice's attempts significantly. As it looks to me, Vice was trying to imitate one of he writers he looked up to. Well, he failed. Carmer's story is infinitely more vivid and important. It's funny how reading it lowered my opinion of last week's story.
After reading Carmer's story, my original impression of Brad Vice's story is significantly diminished - not because of the plagiarized section, but because Carmer's story is that much better. Vice's prose pales in comparison to Carmer's. And I don't think such comparisons are unfair, due to the similarity of the stories.
One thing that was really obvious, and goes back to my review of Vice's story, is the way in which Carmer handles references to Tuscaloosa. In his story, they are essential and never distracting, even to me, which was a problem in Brad Vice's story.
While I don't think Vice's plagiarism was committed maliciously, he still used extremely bad judgement. It is also of note that he didn't just plagiarize the whole section without altering it, but made several changes which, in my opinion, were to the worse and cheapened Vice's attempts significantly. As it looks to me, Vice was trying to imitate one of he writers he looked up to. Well, he failed. Carmer's story is infinitely more vivid and important. It's funny how reading it lowered my opinion of last week's story.
Tuscaloosa Nights
When asked to write about the idea that the previously reviewed piece, Tuscaloosa Knights, was a plagiarized version of Tuscaloosa Nights, I was excited, thinking there might be some lines verbatim that would send the previous piece into humorous submission. However, it's hard for me to say that this is a plagiarized piece.
Take an event that seems catastrophic, such as the September 11th tragedies. The film Loose Changes tries to justify their argument of the twin towers being demolished by internal bombs, asking several New Yorkers what happened and their reply being something along the lines of "It was like someone was blowing up the building." Yeah, it's funny how psychology works. Just because word of mouth travels and people repeat what they heard doesn't make it true.
Two people watching the Klan do their thing by the river would probably describe the act in a similar way. Chances are, they might even use the same analogies. Hell, they might even be witnessing the event close to one another and would have the same perspective of the event. A flaming cross and men dressed in white sheets can only be seen so different from two people.
In Tuscaloosa Nights, we are given a much more in depth look at Southern culture than we are in Tuscaloosa Knights. We are told about what the Klan wants and doesn't want, and doesn't understand or acknowledge, giving them more of an immature and ignorant appeal than in Tuscaloosa Knights. That's not to say the Klan of Knights appear to be an intelligent group, but in Nights Howe proposes questions that elude to a better background for the piece.
I can't say that Knights is plagiarized, considering the perspectives we are given from the speaker. There is less of a focus on the Klan and southern culture than there is on the affair depicted within. Nights focuses on the South and the Klan in a college town, less internal dynamics and more on the topic at hand.
Take an event that seems catastrophic, such as the September 11th tragedies. The film Loose Changes tries to justify their argument of the twin towers being demolished by internal bombs, asking several New Yorkers what happened and their reply being something along the lines of "It was like someone was blowing up the building." Yeah, it's funny how psychology works. Just because word of mouth travels and people repeat what they heard doesn't make it true.
Two people watching the Klan do their thing by the river would probably describe the act in a similar way. Chances are, they might even use the same analogies. Hell, they might even be witnessing the event close to one another and would have the same perspective of the event. A flaming cross and men dressed in white sheets can only be seen so different from two people.
In Tuscaloosa Nights, we are given a much more in depth look at Southern culture than we are in Tuscaloosa Knights. We are told about what the Klan wants and doesn't want, and doesn't understand or acknowledge, giving them more of an immature and ignorant appeal than in Tuscaloosa Knights. That's not to say the Klan of Knights appear to be an intelligent group, but in Nights Howe proposes questions that elude to a better background for the piece.
I can't say that Knights is plagiarized, considering the perspectives we are given from the speaker. There is less of a focus on the Klan and southern culture than there is on the affair depicted within. Nights focuses on the South and the Klan in a college town, less internal dynamics and more on the topic at hand.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Tuscaloosa Nights... the real version... still not great
Okay, I know that this story is the original to the one we’ve already read and still my reaction is the same. I wasn’t overly impressed with this story. However, I do like the contrasts one can make between Carmer’s version and the plagiarized version. Carmer’s version, we’ll call it the ‘real one,’ gives a lot more detail to the Tuscaloosa area and strives to maintain that picture throughout out the story. I do wish the story would have helped define the time frame of the story. We know from the Ku Klux Klan scene what era this story takes place, but I would like to have seen the era through description – both of buildings, of the University, ect. For some reason, all I kept seeing was a modernized version of Tuscaloosa and the University – not a 1930s – 60s version.
I did like how the real one added more characters and gave those characters depth, unlike the last story we read. Yet I can’t help but want more descriptions of the University, since it is such a staple to the Tuscaloosa area. In comparison to the other story, I thought the plagiarism would occur ‘word for word’ like I have been taught it should. Instead, the plagiarism arrived as different ideas and scenes that each author made their own, for example the cross burning scene and the scene with Lula in the moonlight. I can see why the other story might be justified as plagiarism but I wouldn’t necessarily consider it plagiarism. Too me, both stories present similar ideas and scenes but in different contexts.
After reading this, I’m curious as to the rest of the novel. What other places in Alabama are feature in the book?
I did like how the real one added more characters and gave those characters depth, unlike the last story we read. Yet I can’t help but want more descriptions of the University, since it is such a staple to the Tuscaloosa area. In comparison to the other story, I thought the plagiarism would occur ‘word for word’ like I have been taught it should. Instead, the plagiarism arrived as different ideas and scenes that each author made their own, for example the cross burning scene and the scene with Lula in the moonlight. I can see why the other story might be justified as plagiarism but I wouldn’t necessarily consider it plagiarism. Too me, both stories present similar ideas and scenes but in different contexts.
After reading this, I’m curious as to the rest of the novel. What other places in Alabama are feature in the book?
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Tuscaloosa Knights
I rather enjoyed this piece. I thought that it was well written even if it was plagirized. I thought that the characters were well-developed. I didn't neccessarily like the section implying that Bear was a member of the Klan, ofcourse. I am an Alabama fan and don't like hearing any implications that one of our heroes was involved in horrible cults like the KKK. However, this piece had enough focus on the characters to not fully take over the story. I mean the back story about the KKK was not the focus and I really liked that. I also like the how the action and dialogue flowed. It seemed really natural. This piece had enough tension to keep the reader's attention while not hitting you over the head with it.
I really appreciate how the author represented Alabama fans and Tuscaloosa in general. Though there was some obvious bias I think that there was plenty of truth in it as well. Though I have never found a hairdresser that proceeded to argue about what I wanted. Anyways, I like this piece a lot better.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Tuscaloosa Knights Review
“Tuscaloosa Knights” was a story that left me both intrigued and summarily let down, but by no means was a “bad story.” Its strengths lie in its tone; several times I caught myself conjuring up the spirit of Tennessee Williams and “A Streetcar Named Desire” which, for me, was a wonderful thing. The gruff and callous Pinion could have easily been a wealthier Stanley, and Marla could be either of Williams’ leading ladies, though her supposed innocence seemed more in line with Stella.
The narrative itself is simple, but by adding the twist of the Klan and the South, the tale of a mildly unhappy woman keeping company with her husband’s best friend doubles in intrigue tenfold. The readers know an affair is inevitable, but it is presented so timidly and unfolds so naturally—it was lovely.
There were two problems with “Tuscaloosa Knights,” however, that were hard to overlook, even with its abundance of well-rounded characters and occasional beautiful description. Marla’s voice, at times, would change too harshly, jarring me out of the story. An example of this is on the top of page two, “I was pretty upset that my husband planned to abandon me here in this dinky town with nothing to do while he pranced across Europe.” The seemingly educated and well-spoken Marla turned into a fourteen-year-old school girl in one sentence. Also, the ending was too unsatisfying. The build up to the affair, which was mesmerizing and engaged the reader on so many levels, blossoms and subsequently burns out, but not because of the two’s conscience, but rather a group of crazy people from Bryce that come out of nowhere. If there was a message in it, I missed it. I certainly hope the overlying suggestion was NOT as simple as extramarital affairs are crazy, i.e. the parade of insane.
I liked this story, but I wish it could have been more.
The narrative itself is simple, but by adding the twist of the Klan and the South, the tale of a mildly unhappy woman keeping company with her husband’s best friend doubles in intrigue tenfold. The readers know an affair is inevitable, but it is presented so timidly and unfolds so naturally—it was lovely.
There were two problems with “Tuscaloosa Knights,” however, that were hard to overlook, even with its abundance of well-rounded characters and occasional beautiful description. Marla’s voice, at times, would change too harshly, jarring me out of the story. An example of this is on the top of page two, “I was pretty upset that my husband planned to abandon me here in this dinky town with nothing to do while he pranced across Europe.” The seemingly educated and well-spoken Marla turned into a fourteen-year-old school girl in one sentence. Also, the ending was too unsatisfying. The build up to the affair, which was mesmerizing and engaged the reader on so many levels, blossoms and subsequently burns out, but not because of the two’s conscience, but rather a group of crazy people from Bryce that come out of nowhere. If there was a message in it, I missed it. I certainly hope the overlying suggestion was NOT as simple as extramarital affairs are crazy, i.e. the parade of insane.
I liked this story, but I wish it could have been more.
Tuscaloosa Knights
Like others, I'm not entirely sure whether I liked or disliked this story. I felt very much like I knew it already--not just because I'm fairly familiar with Tuscaloosa, but also because I'm familiar with the culture of Alabama: football, Bear Bryant, and the KKK. In fact, the story felt so familiar to me that I don't really know that it added anything new to me.
I thought it was well-written; the prose felt fluid enough to me, detailed, and with a good rhythm and progression of story. He had some excellent images, from But the story never felt like more than the sum of its parts: disjointed in some ways, like it never quite coalesced into a single story. We had bits on Pinion, the husband in Switzerland (Switzerland? Really?), on Bear Bryant, Bryce, the Klan, even on how backwards Tuscaloosa was compared to Poughkeepsie. I get it, I know this stuff already.
Maybe I would have been more interested in the story itself if I weren't from the South. Maybe someone from Poughkeepsie would be interested in seeing the atmosphere of culture that Vice creates--but would they really need to read it, either? I imagine they know as well as we Southerners know, about shooting the breeze on a front porch with bourbon and mint. about the KKK's activities, about the casual indifference of even otherwise 'respectable' people like Pinion toward his black servants. Pinion, incidentally, seemed less to disagree with the Klan than to think they were some watered-down version of the real thing--I suspected he still harkened back to the glory days of the Klan "when there was a reason for it" like when his grandfather was the boss.
When it really gets down to it, it's just an amalgation of all the stereotypical images associated with Alabama--even if those images were well-written.
I thought it was well-written; the prose felt fluid enough to me, detailed, and with a good rhythm and progression of story. He had some excellent images, from But the story never felt like more than the sum of its parts: disjointed in some ways, like it never quite coalesced into a single story. We had bits on Pinion, the husband in Switzerland (Switzerland? Really?), on Bear Bryant, Bryce, the Klan, even on how backwards Tuscaloosa was compared to Poughkeepsie. I get it, I know this stuff already.
Maybe I would have been more interested in the story itself if I weren't from the South. Maybe someone from Poughkeepsie would be interested in seeing the atmosphere of culture that Vice creates--but would they really need to read it, either? I imagine they know as well as we Southerners know, about shooting the breeze on a front porch with bourbon and mint. about the KKK's activities, about the casual indifference of even otherwise 'respectable' people like Pinion toward his black servants. Pinion, incidentally, seemed less to disagree with the Klan than to think they were some watered-down version of the real thing--I suspected he still harkened back to the glory days of the Klan "when there was a reason for it" like when his grandfather was the boss.
When it really gets down to it, it's just an amalgation of all the stereotypical images associated with Alabama--even if those images were well-written.
Ouch
In a nutshell, this story made me a little bit sick. But in a good way. Sort of.
It's always interesting to read and write about a place, and the culture accompanying that place. You realize that some stereotypes are abhorrent, malicious bastardizations of these, yet most exist for a very real reason.
Having been born and raised in Alabama, I've experienced countless secondhand instances of culture shock from peers and visitors from other parts of the country and the world that are shocked both by how stereotypical the South is and by how different it is from their preconceived notions.
This story was, for me, a sickening look at why so many of these stereotypes do exist.
We have the burning, which in many ways was like a county fair, with children, and frat boys bring dates, and the main attraction--a bigot attacking things for biased reasons. We have the hate-language, the terrified black driver, the black maid. And all of this made me sad--I could identify everything physical about this story, and as such was forced to accept, once again, that I am a part of a culture with a background that is, in certain aspects, despicable.
Yet amidst this stereotypical backdrop, we have a story about curiosity, change, and infidelity. I didn't find Marla's desire to attend the rally strange. I've met many non-natives that have wanted to partake in all things southern, for better and for worse. I was much more intrigued by the relationship between her and Pinion.
Vice makes a phenomenal move with the final scene, which I found to be the most compelling of the story. Marla finally submits to the adultery that she had planned, with increasing conviction, to commit. The act is set against the backdrop of the "running of the loons." There is a certain shock and pity associated both with the initial and then the mass of Bryce patients that sets them apart. Yet what is insanity, if not plotting and knowing all of the downfalls and the lack of upside and doing it anything, the world be damned? Marla is the same as these people whether she knows it or not.
Though the topic of religion is never broached directly, the patients serve as a reverse baptism. The elements are there--a river, a cross, a change. When the car is stopped and then washed over by this group of mental patients, she finally connects the last dot, not only knowing what she is doing, but finally feeling it for the terrible action it was.
In sum, I feel like Vice combined a number of intricate elements, set it against a backdrop that is familiar, at least to me, and combined the two to make a phenomenal story that was both a stereotype and the exact opposite.
It's always interesting to read and write about a place, and the culture accompanying that place. You realize that some stereotypes are abhorrent, malicious bastardizations of these, yet most exist for a very real reason.
Having been born and raised in Alabama, I've experienced countless secondhand instances of culture shock from peers and visitors from other parts of the country and the world that are shocked both by how stereotypical the South is and by how different it is from their preconceived notions.
This story was, for me, a sickening look at why so many of these stereotypes do exist.
We have the burning, which in many ways was like a county fair, with children, and frat boys bring dates, and the main attraction--a bigot attacking things for biased reasons. We have the hate-language, the terrified black driver, the black maid. And all of this made me sad--I could identify everything physical about this story, and as such was forced to accept, once again, that I am a part of a culture with a background that is, in certain aspects, despicable.
Yet amidst this stereotypical backdrop, we have a story about curiosity, change, and infidelity. I didn't find Marla's desire to attend the rally strange. I've met many non-natives that have wanted to partake in all things southern, for better and for worse. I was much more intrigued by the relationship between her and Pinion.
Vice makes a phenomenal move with the final scene, which I found to be the most compelling of the story. Marla finally submits to the adultery that she had planned, with increasing conviction, to commit. The act is set against the backdrop of the "running of the loons." There is a certain shock and pity associated both with the initial and then the mass of Bryce patients that sets them apart. Yet what is insanity, if not plotting and knowing all of the downfalls and the lack of upside and doing it anything, the world be damned? Marla is the same as these people whether she knows it or not.
Though the topic of religion is never broached directly, the patients serve as a reverse baptism. The elements are there--a river, a cross, a change. When the car is stopped and then washed over by this group of mental patients, she finally connects the last dot, not only knowing what she is doing, but finally feeling it for the terrible action it was.
In sum, I feel like Vice combined a number of intricate elements, set it against a backdrop that is familiar, at least to me, and combined the two to make a phenomenal story that was both a stereotype and the exact opposite.
"Tuscaloosa Knights" by Brad Vice
I enjoyed "Tuscaloosa Knights." It was entertaining and thought-provoking. And apart from the quality of the story, Vice did a good job to make it vivid and give it many layers. While reading it, I always had the sense of the action being just part of a much bigger world. The reader is much like Marla and Pinion; spectators who want to get as close to the action as possible. I was also always aware of the presence of Marla's husband, even though he is only mentioned. The background Vice gives is short, but very effective. I got a sense of who these characters were and of the enormity of the events happening around them. Marla, the passive protagonist, doesn't drive the story forward, but merely participates in it. She doesn't even understand everything that's happening. She is curious about what's going on, but soon realizes she's in over her head.
It was very interesting to read a story that takes place here in Tuscaloosa. I recognized all of the geographical landmarks and streets. This automatically let me connect to the piece in that way. But I can't help but wonder how differently the story reads to someone not living in Tuscaloosa. To be honest, I felt like Vice used a few too many references to the town. I'm sure someone not from here probably wouldn't feel the same way. But sometimes, I got the feeling as if Vice wanted to pack as many references into the story as he could. To me, this cheapened the story, but only marginally.
Because, in all, this is a very good story with interesting characters, and a fascinating backdrop. Vice creates an array of great images. Picturing the Klan rally going down Queen City was pretty crazy, and the mystery of Bear Bryant's participation was really intriguing. And then, there's the final escalation at the end, when escaped Bryce inmates pass the car in which Marla and Pinion are having sex, and run toward the burning cross illuminated the night sky. Crazy.
It was very interesting to read a story that takes place here in Tuscaloosa. I recognized all of the geographical landmarks and streets. This automatically let me connect to the piece in that way. But I can't help but wonder how differently the story reads to someone not living in Tuscaloosa. To be honest, I felt like Vice used a few too many references to the town. I'm sure someone not from here probably wouldn't feel the same way. But sometimes, I got the feeling as if Vice wanted to pack as many references into the story as he could. To me, this cheapened the story, but only marginally.
Because, in all, this is a very good story with interesting characters, and a fascinating backdrop. Vice creates an array of great images. Picturing the Klan rally going down Queen City was pretty crazy, and the mystery of Bear Bryant's participation was really intriguing. And then, there's the final escalation at the end, when escaped Bryce inmates pass the car in which Marla and Pinion are having sex, and run toward the burning cross illuminated the night sky. Crazy.
A Touch of Home
This story was quite fascinating, for the most part. I never really found myself bored at all or having to try and skim ahead to see if it got better. The story followed a good progression that paid attention to detail while keeping the plot moving at a good pace.
Obviously, the thing that really stood out to me was the reason I believe this story was selected for us, which was how it is a retelling of another story by making it closer to our own homes and giving it a sense of reality for us living in Tuscaloosa. I personally found it much easier to picture everything happening and where it was happening with the details of the town and the locations of the events that were happening in. To be honest, I actually really liked this aspect of the
story. I think it made the story come more alive to me, and it gave it a greater sense of interest because it was taking place in “my town.”
One thing I didn’t like was the use of Bear Bryant and how he was a football player and not a coach. I’m not going to be all crazy and say that it was “disrespectful” to Coach Bryant (which I’m not), but I really just found the usage of his name with that specific character to be silly. It really was the only thing that I felt hindered the drama of the story. Everything else, as far as Tuscaloosa goes, was used properly and appropriately.
As far as the plot goes, I thought it was solid. I kept wondering if Marla was going to get with Pinion, and I kept wondering what kind of man he really was. I thought the subtle hints dropped throughout the story of how Pinion treated certain people really helped build up his near rape at the end.
Which, speaking of the weird sex thing at the end of the story – that was really weird. It was out of nowhere, and just seemed to completely change what happened in the story. I felt like I went from John Grisham to Danielle Steele.
Obviously, the thing that really stood out to me was the reason I believe this story was selected for us, which was how it is a retelling of another story by making it closer to our own homes and giving it a sense of reality for us living in Tuscaloosa. I personally found it much easier to picture everything happening and where it was happening with the details of the town and the locations of the events that were happening in. To be honest, I actually really liked this aspect of the
story. I think it made the story come more alive to me, and it gave it a greater sense of interest because it was taking place in “my town.”
One thing I didn’t like was the use of Bear Bryant and how he was a football player and not a coach. I’m not going to be all crazy and say that it was “disrespectful” to Coach Bryant (which I’m not), but I really just found the usage of his name with that specific character to be silly. It really was the only thing that I felt hindered the drama of the story. Everything else, as far as Tuscaloosa goes, was used properly and appropriately.
As far as the plot goes, I thought it was solid. I kept wondering if Marla was going to get with Pinion, and I kept wondering what kind of man he really was. I thought the subtle hints dropped throughout the story of how Pinion treated certain people really helped build up his near rape at the end.
Which, speaking of the weird sex thing at the end of the story – that was really weird. It was out of nowhere, and just seemed to completely change what happened in the story. I felt like I went from John Grisham to Danielle Steele.
Knight Moves
From now on whenever I hear a bugle I will no longer think I'm semi-awake through an episode of Gomer Pyle.
Brad Vice's Tuscaloosa Knights is a startling tale of how two apparently smart people end up going to a Klan rally. It's very disturbing to see how something so terrible as a racist rally with the potential for murder can evoke curiosity, even with those who stand against the ideals.
Pinion is a fine southern man who spends many a day with Marla, his friend's wife. They flirt, drink and smoke on the porch on Queen City. Marla is bored because her husband John is working all the time and has left her to drown in the Druid City. Fortunately, she has some company who could also provide for some sweet adultery action.
The images given in this piece are amazing, depicting sounds of horses with great imagery and language. The way Vice describes the rally makes it as though you are actually there. You can almost smell the incest and degeneration.
What I found most disturbing about this piece is how nonchalant Pinion is towards Puddin, his driver, when Puddin comes back home with some groceries. "I'm too old for this aggravation," he says. Pinion tells him to go inside and get some coffee.
The end of the piece is especially bizarre, seeing as how the horny couple ends up almost doing the nasty in a broken down car while a bunch of Bryce escapees run towards a flaming cross. Christ.
Brad Vice's Tuscaloosa Knights is a startling tale of how two apparently smart people end up going to a Klan rally. It's very disturbing to see how something so terrible as a racist rally with the potential for murder can evoke curiosity, even with those who stand against the ideals.
Pinion is a fine southern man who spends many a day with Marla, his friend's wife. They flirt, drink and smoke on the porch on Queen City. Marla is bored because her husband John is working all the time and has left her to drown in the Druid City. Fortunately, she has some company who could also provide for some sweet adultery action.
The images given in this piece are amazing, depicting sounds of horses with great imagery and language. The way Vice describes the rally makes it as though you are actually there. You can almost smell the incest and degeneration.
What I found most disturbing about this piece is how nonchalant Pinion is towards Puddin, his driver, when Puddin comes back home with some groceries. "I'm too old for this aggravation," he says. Pinion tells him to go inside and get some coffee.
The end of the piece is especially bizarre, seeing as how the horny couple ends up almost doing the nasty in a broken down car while a bunch of Bryce escapees run towards a flaming cross. Christ.
Cultural and Genetic Baggage in "Tuscaloosa Knights"
"Tuscaloosa Knights" is a story about two progressive intellectuals who find themselves observing a primitive, malevolent display of ideology. I think the realization that comes about from the action, dialogue, and undertones of this story is that these two individuals, though their politics differ sharply from the world around them, are ultimately the same as the people they despise. This sameness, I think, exists for two different reasons, and these reasons are the theme of the story: from cultural influence, which runs so deep one can apparently never completely escape it, and from genetic determinism, which creates an innateness in all of us that is so strong, neither the most obedient nor the most subversive politics can overcome it.
Pinion is very quick to distance himself from his alleged cousin, who must be at least his half cousin, unless the despicable uncle is his aunt's husband. But Pinion is a case study in the unreformed southerner, most overtly through his violent temperament. If you recall, the author implicitly mentions that his servant is black. While Pinion is in no capacity a slave-owner, or someone who acts like it, it is a curious thing that someone so consciously against that old Dixie mentality would employ a reminder of it. It is both symbolic and diegesisical evidence that Pinion hasn't completely shaken off the world of his grandfathers. Also, while drunk driving is not exclusively a southern vice, it stands out as unrefined behavior, especially for a congressman.
The theme of genetic determinism comes in when the narrator brings up Pinion's shooting of his cousin. His Klansmen kin, he is quick to point out (albeit with a flimsy denial) that this guy is very different from him, and they could not be from the same "family." But Pinion is very much like him - after all, he shot him! This is something given to him by genetics, and Pinion must be conscious of this, because he is extremely upset when the narrator vocally starts to piece together his past.
The narrator shows her primitive side in the sex scene. This woman is a feminist. You can tell in both her despising of the town she is forced to live in, and in the way she interacts with Pinion. Yet, notice the language she uses to describe the sex - "what he was about to do to me," "what could I do - go limp, fight, scream?" Sex is now a receptive act for her, the female, the opposite of who she wants to be, and just what this culture she hates would want from her.
But why consciously be the primitivism we hate so much? The answer, I think, is in the metaphor of Bryce patients running lost through the woods and toward the burning cross. The running, confused patients represent humans in their existential state, especially for our two characters who find themselves living in a culture they sharply disagree with. Lost, and seemingly directionless, they run toward the familiar, easily achieved primitivism of things drinking too much, sex in a car, and violence. In times of confusion, primitivism is a bright, burning oasis, both because it is the social norm and because it was innate in them all along.
Pinion is very quick to distance himself from his alleged cousin, who must be at least his half cousin, unless the despicable uncle is his aunt's husband. But Pinion is a case study in the unreformed southerner, most overtly through his violent temperament. If you recall, the author implicitly mentions that his servant is black. While Pinion is in no capacity a slave-owner, or someone who acts like it, it is a curious thing that someone so consciously against that old Dixie mentality would employ a reminder of it. It is both symbolic and diegesisical evidence that Pinion hasn't completely shaken off the world of his grandfathers. Also, while drunk driving is not exclusively a southern vice, it stands out as unrefined behavior, especially for a congressman.
The theme of genetic determinism comes in when the narrator brings up Pinion's shooting of his cousin. His Klansmen kin, he is quick to point out (albeit with a flimsy denial) that this guy is very different from him, and they could not be from the same "family." But Pinion is very much like him - after all, he shot him! This is something given to him by genetics, and Pinion must be conscious of this, because he is extremely upset when the narrator vocally starts to piece together his past.
The narrator shows her primitive side in the sex scene. This woman is a feminist. You can tell in both her despising of the town she is forced to live in, and in the way she interacts with Pinion. Yet, notice the language she uses to describe the sex - "what he was about to do to me," "what could I do - go limp, fight, scream?" Sex is now a receptive act for her, the female, the opposite of who she wants to be, and just what this culture she hates would want from her.
But why consciously be the primitivism we hate so much? The answer, I think, is in the metaphor of Bryce patients running lost through the woods and toward the burning cross. The running, confused patients represent humans in their existential state, especially for our two characters who find themselves living in a culture they sharply disagree with. Lost, and seemingly directionless, they run toward the familiar, easily achieved primitivism of things drinking too much, sex in a car, and violence. In times of confusion, primitivism is a bright, burning oasis, both because it is the social norm and because it was innate in them all along.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Tuscaloosa Knights - not what I expected
Again, I am having mixed feelings as to whether or not I liked this particular story. Upon learning that this story was set in the
I liked the part about Coach Bryant not being able to play football because of a broken leg. However, because I’m from
The story brings out some interesting points regarding race and racial inequality. I think the plot of the story is very well written but the pinpoints about
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Tuscaloosa Knights
This story was a different one for me to read because I had never read a story that took place in a town that I live in. I liked it because I was able to picture the exact setting while I was reading the story. Like when certain streets, like Queen City Avenue and University Boulevard, were mentioned I was able to picture those streets in my mind. Also when certain places were mentioned, like Bryce hospital, I was able to picture that in my mind as well. A downfall to reading a story that takes place in a town that you live in is that you are more critical to details. For instance when Pinion and Marla are driving to the cross burning. In the story it says that they went down Queen City Avenue and then turned on to University Drive and then went through campus and then went past Bryce Hospital. I didn't really like that part because Bryce hospital is not on University Drive. It also said that they turned just past Bryce and went down to River Road, well you have to go a good distance away from Bryce before you can even turn to go to River Road.
The plot of the story was and interesting one to read. I like how the true story of Paul "Bear" Bryant playing with a broken leg was built into the story. I was happy when it wasn't Bryant that was the speaker at the KKK rally. If it would have been him I don't think I would have finished the story because that would have been so far from the truth that the story would not have been worth reading.
Another thing about the story that was good was how it took place in present tense. I like reading stories that put the reader into the action. I never knew exactly where this story was headed. Every time I thought I knew what was going it went in a different direction.
The plot of the story was and interesting one to read. I like how the true story of Paul "Bear" Bryant playing with a broken leg was built into the story. I was happy when it wasn't Bryant that was the speaker at the KKK rally. If it would have been him I don't think I would have finished the story because that would have been so far from the truth that the story would not have been worth reading.
Another thing about the story that was good was how it took place in present tense. I like reading stories that put the reader into the action. I never knew exactly where this story was headed. Every time I thought I knew what was going it went in a different direction.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Hemingway "Kills"
I have read some of Hemingway's work in high school and must say that I'm not a fan. In this story, in particular, I did not believe the characters. Their actions and dialogue did not seem genuine to me. I could be completely wrong but that is the way I felt. I wanted to know more about why Anderson was not fighting back or fleeing. And I can only assume that the reason for his scheduled death was for something as cliche'd as a gambling debt.
I have to say that he lost me in the beginning when I really couldn't keep track ast to who was saying what. I am a person who really likes to have everything clarified. If I feel confused or left out in the beginning I am pretty much done with the piece. I also had no idea why these two guys were ordering everyone around and everyone was obeying until near the end when Hemingway mentions that the guy that was in the kitchen was carrying a shot gun. I think that had he mentioned that early in the story then I would have not been so frustrated with the characters.
I don't mean to be so negative but this piece was almost as bad as the "Old Man and the Sea". Where that story bored me this story did not connect the characters to me. Not my favorite story.
Friday, September 26, 2008
"The Killers" by Ernest Hemingway
I've read a few things by Hemingway before, so his style was nothing new to me. I'm a big fan of it, actually. The way he just cuts out anything extraneous and is still able to create fantastic prose is really astonishing. If I had to choose, I would probably have to say that this my preferred way of fiction writing. Along with Charles Bukowski, Hemingway's writing style is what I usually aspire to. I just like the quick, realistic dialogue and the straightforward, even barren, descriptions. It reminds me a lot of scriptwriting, with which I have a good deal of experience. The notion is to create a picture of the scene with as few words as possible, and let the characters speak for themselves.
As far as the story goes, it's nothing more than a little bit of pulp. A couple of ordinary guys get a taste of the city's underbelly and come to the conclusion that it's just part of it all, and that there's nothing one can do about it other than get out of town before it catches up with you.
I don't see a lot of problems with the story. It's short, it's simple, and deliberately so, so how could I fault it for that? Yes, I have to admit that when I wasn't paying the closest attention, it could get a bit confusing as to who's talking, but I always smile when that happens, because after all, it's Hemingway, and it's just a joy to read.
As far as the story goes, it's nothing more than a little bit of pulp. A couple of ordinary guys get a taste of the city's underbelly and come to the conclusion that it's just part of it all, and that there's nothing one can do about it other than get out of town before it catches up with you.
I don't see a lot of problems with the story. It's short, it's simple, and deliberately so, so how could I fault it for that? Yes, I have to admit that when I wasn't paying the closest attention, it could get a bit confusing as to who's talking, but I always smile when that happens, because after all, it's Hemingway, and it's just a joy to read.
The Killers Review
The Killers did not necessarily entice me, as a reader. It was an easy read, but, at the same time, it seemed somewhat tedious. I really kept wondering where the story was going, and often found myself saying out loud, “get to the point.” The repetition of some of the lines between the characters was really annoying.
The lack of control of the voice bothered me, too. I understand that Hemingway probably did this on purpose, but without describing accents and how certain lines were said, I just found myself stereotyping accents into the whole Brooklyn mob accent. Actually, I thought a lot about that Hardees commercial from a few months back – the Philly Cheese Steak Burger one.
I guess it also goes back to personal tastes. I like to read and write stories that provoke thought. That’s mostly what I care about when it comes to all art, with few exceptions. I didn’t feel this particular story challenged me into any thought other than imagining the scenario for myself. Granted, the story was fun enough, and, as I said before, an easy read, but I felt there were things left desired.
On a positive note, though, I did think that the dialogue kept a good pace to the story, especially when I read the story allowed (no, I did not use the accents allowed, although I should have). In a way, too, it’s sometimes good to leave things open-ended for the reader. I could have made the mobster’s voices anything I wanted because it was left open.
In the end, I really was looking for something more thought provoking, and that doesn’t mean that I needed “descriptive paragraphs” or specific details. The dialogue used could have been put to better use - at least give more details about what’s going on through the dialogue.
The lack of control of the voice bothered me, too. I understand that Hemingway probably did this on purpose, but without describing accents and how certain lines were said, I just found myself stereotyping accents into the whole Brooklyn mob accent. Actually, I thought a lot about that Hardees commercial from a few months back – the Philly Cheese Steak Burger one.
I guess it also goes back to personal tastes. I like to read and write stories that provoke thought. That’s mostly what I care about when it comes to all art, with few exceptions. I didn’t feel this particular story challenged me into any thought other than imagining the scenario for myself. Granted, the story was fun enough, and, as I said before, an easy read, but I felt there were things left desired.
On a positive note, though, I did think that the dialogue kept a good pace to the story, especially when I read the story allowed (no, I did not use the accents allowed, although I should have). In a way, too, it’s sometimes good to leave things open-ended for the reader. I could have made the mobster’s voices anything I wanted because it was left open.
In the end, I really was looking for something more thought provoking, and that doesn’t mean that I needed “descriptive paragraphs” or specific details. The dialogue used could have been put to better use - at least give more details about what’s going on through the dialogue.
Hemingway's Killers
Hemingway writes phenomenal dialogue.
I've read his work, I've always known that, but every time I read something by him it still blows me away. It's simple, realistic without being "too real" (nothing feels like fluff, and there's none of the dullness that occurs in spoken conversation, no "ums" or "ehs" or stutters or accents), and reads very quickly.
I like the tone Hemingway establishes. This read like a scene out of Pulp Fiction, with us readers being thrust into the middle of a scene with no exposition whatsoever. We get an idea of what is going on while it's "safe"--something feels off, but at the same time, though something feels ominous, the shit has yet to hit the fan. We aren't surprised when we learn that Al and Max are hitmen--it was given to us in the title, and something about the respective subtleties of their dress, mannerisms, and speech tells us that we are in the midst of a steadily-rising action that is ready to peak at any moment. At the same time, we have three other named male characters who also seem to feel that something is, at least to some degree, off. The use of five male characters served, to me, as a clash with the smooth dialogue. The characters names are given to us at a deliberate pace and Hemingway has them speak in a deliberate order with intentional dialogue tags that make us read and reread the dialogue to figure out who is saying what to whom. I would not be strictly for this method of confusion in all works, but for the tone I felt like it worked, deliberately confusing us enough to amp up the impending sense of foreboding but not fully distracting us from what's going on.
Finally, I enjoyed the pacing of the piece. Again, this is a very Hemingway story. The sentences are short and read quickly, and the dialogue tags rarely, if ever, stray from a simple "he said" or "Max asked." Everything written is in some way compelling, but not in an over the top, information dump kind of way. Most bits of dialogue are no more than a line long; the longest individual "speech" of the entire story is four lines long, when the landlady describes Andreson's lack of movement all day. Everything else is two lines or less. I feel like we can learn a lot from this. I know, personally, that I can agonize over such things as word choice and order for hours on end, trying to "pretty up" a work and give it some type of "literary merit." And while I'm sure Hemingway agonized over his simple words and order, the piece reads as though he were simply a fly on the wall documenting everything in real time. It's something I would like to start emulating more in my own writing.
I've read his work, I've always known that, but every time I read something by him it still blows me away. It's simple, realistic without being "too real" (nothing feels like fluff, and there's none of the dullness that occurs in spoken conversation, no "ums" or "ehs" or stutters or accents), and reads very quickly.
I like the tone Hemingway establishes. This read like a scene out of Pulp Fiction, with us readers being thrust into the middle of a scene with no exposition whatsoever. We get an idea of what is going on while it's "safe"--something feels off, but at the same time, though something feels ominous, the shit has yet to hit the fan. We aren't surprised when we learn that Al and Max are hitmen--it was given to us in the title, and something about the respective subtleties of their dress, mannerisms, and speech tells us that we are in the midst of a steadily-rising action that is ready to peak at any moment. At the same time, we have three other named male characters who also seem to feel that something is, at least to some degree, off. The use of five male characters served, to me, as a clash with the smooth dialogue. The characters names are given to us at a deliberate pace and Hemingway has them speak in a deliberate order with intentional dialogue tags that make us read and reread the dialogue to figure out who is saying what to whom. I would not be strictly for this method of confusion in all works, but for the tone I felt like it worked, deliberately confusing us enough to amp up the impending sense of foreboding but not fully distracting us from what's going on.
Finally, I enjoyed the pacing of the piece. Again, this is a very Hemingway story. The sentences are short and read quickly, and the dialogue tags rarely, if ever, stray from a simple "he said" or "Max asked." Everything written is in some way compelling, but not in an over the top, information dump kind of way. Most bits of dialogue are no more than a line long; the longest individual "speech" of the entire story is four lines long, when the landlady describes Andreson's lack of movement all day. Everything else is two lines or less. I feel like we can learn a lot from this. I know, personally, that I can agonize over such things as word choice and order for hours on end, trying to "pretty up" a work and give it some type of "literary merit." And while I'm sure Hemingway agonized over his simple words and order, the piece reads as though he were simply a fly on the wall documenting everything in real time. It's something I would like to start emulating more in my own writing.
The Killers
In Earnest Hemingway's The Killers, the reader is thrown into a terrible situation controlled by two men. These characters, Max and Al, remind me of the kind of jerks you run into standing in line at a concert or a movie. They begin conversing with you, then insulting you to one another.
The dialogue between the characters consumes most of this piece, allowing them to set the scene and provide background information versus the narrator. This is an interesting device, however, at times I had to reread passages in order to keep up with who is saying what.
What stuck out to me most was that the dialogue contributed from Max and Al (to each other and to the other characters) seemed so nonchalant considering they have come to the diner in order to kill a man. Going back and forth with likes like
"So, he thinks it's all right." Max turned to Al. "He thinks it's all right. That's a good one."
"Oh, he's a thinker," Al said.
I felt that this story could go a bit further, meaning I would like to see what came of the characters put in this situation. We don't know what comes of Ole Anderson or why he was put into this situation. However, the last line "you better not think about it,"fit perfectly with the tone of the rest of the piece.
The dialogue between the characters consumes most of this piece, allowing them to set the scene and provide background information versus the narrator. This is an interesting device, however, at times I had to reread passages in order to keep up with who is saying what.
What stuck out to me most was that the dialogue contributed from Max and Al (to each other and to the other characters) seemed so nonchalant considering they have come to the diner in order to kill a man. Going back and forth with likes like
"So, he thinks it's all right." Max turned to Al. "He thinks it's all right. That's a good one."
"Oh, he's a thinker," Al said.
I felt that this story could go a bit further, meaning I would like to see what came of the characters put in this situation. We don't know what comes of Ole Anderson or why he was put into this situation. However, the last line "you better not think about it,"fit perfectly with the tone of the rest of the piece.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Is it moral ambiguity or helplessness?
Hemingway takes a strictly fly-on-the-wall approach to telling this story, and I don't think this is for the sake of the narrative. One could easily imagine an exposition of this story with more engaging detail, character-developing inner monologue, and more active language to create dynamics. But Hemingway tells his story as blandly and as minimally as possible, and leaves us with not a world and group of characters to be engaged with, but a simple test-tube to be observed.
This nonchalantly told story about actionless characters acting nonchalantly to a horrible occurrence has, in my opinion, two possible underlying themes. The first is moral ambiguity. Not only does Hemingway promote this through his storytelling - handling all the characters exactly the same, whether good or bad, and giving us no moment of justice for the perpetrators of the story - but his characters seem to take no moral initiative at all. Surely someone could have easily and safely alerted the police; a more proactive character could have helped Ole escape. Most importantly, three men had a reasonable chance throughout the bulk of the story to overtake these two unremarkable hitmen. Perhaps most revealing is the defeatist language near the end: "I guess they will," "Well, you better not think about it." Passive language helps to facilitate this ambiguity, in much the way a callous filmmaker might pan over an injured, screaming women unsympathetically.
The other possibility is determinism. The story flows quickly without any accentuations or dramatic elaborations or pauses. It gives you exactly what you think will happen, as if it were happening in our nonfictional universe. There is also a sense of inevitability in their discussing Ole's fate. The story leaves you with every indication that he will be killed.
Either or both of these themes could be commentary on Hemingway's time and place, or America in general. Hemingway often described his generation as victims of post-war disillusionment, having a lack of direction and purpose, and borderline nihilistic. As Hemingway mechanically reels us through the story objectively, with indifference to every character, one senses his belief in a fatalism and purpose-robbing void every bit as ubiquitous as a booky you can't run away from.
This nonchalantly told story about actionless characters acting nonchalantly to a horrible occurrence has, in my opinion, two possible underlying themes. The first is moral ambiguity. Not only does Hemingway promote this through his storytelling - handling all the characters exactly the same, whether good or bad, and giving us no moment of justice for the perpetrators of the story - but his characters seem to take no moral initiative at all. Surely someone could have easily and safely alerted the police; a more proactive character could have helped Ole escape. Most importantly, three men had a reasonable chance throughout the bulk of the story to overtake these two unremarkable hitmen. Perhaps most revealing is the defeatist language near the end: "I guess they will," "Well, you better not think about it." Passive language helps to facilitate this ambiguity, in much the way a callous filmmaker might pan over an injured, screaming women unsympathetically.
The other possibility is determinism. The story flows quickly without any accentuations or dramatic elaborations or pauses. It gives you exactly what you think will happen, as if it were happening in our nonfictional universe. There is also a sense of inevitability in their discussing Ole's fate. The story leaves you with every indication that he will be killed.
Either or both of these themes could be commentary on Hemingway's time and place, or America in general. Hemingway often described his generation as victims of post-war disillusionment, having a lack of direction and purpose, and borderline nihilistic. As Hemingway mechanically reels us through the story objectively, with indifference to every character, one senses his belief in a fatalism and purpose-robbing void every bit as ubiquitous as a booky you can't run away from.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Hemingway, Hits, and Misses
To start this review off, I must admit that I am an avid Hemingway fan and almost everything he’s done, I feel, is pure gold. Also, while I am familiar with several of his other shorts, this was the first time I read “The Killers,” and I was ready for a literature feast.
It’s more than commendable that this story was written in bed, in a day, and like all Hemingway’s stories, it’s intriguing and has dialogue that flows so effortlessly you could float a boat down it, but I have to say, as a whole, I was kind of let down. It seemed like the piece existed on two planes that could not quite come together: description and dialogue.
I enjoyed the ambiguity of Ole Anderson’s plight, and I liked the low-key, bland way George and Nick handle the ending (“They’ll kill him”/ “I guess they will,”) but I didn’t really feel connected to this story. The descriptions, when present, are glorious and spotless and true-to-form Hemingway, and I love them dearly, but as a whole, I kept finding myself wanting more. Any kind of reaction, any kind of small bone—especially when Max and Al are heckling the other men in the bar—would have not only helped me visualize the characters of Nick and George better, but it would’ve help me blend the dialogue and the imagery into a more accessible soufflé of literary genius, but I just couldn’t get there.
The dialogue is something I could only ever hope to write, but unfortunately, it’s what solely drives the story. By page three, the quotations marks began to feel cumbersome, like I was trudging through a field of mud, and each time it was harder and harder to pull my feet up. When I came across a rare sentence or two that was a description, it was like I’d reached solid land, only to be dragged back down again. Even screenplay and scripts have basic descriptions of action, and while I’m suggesting the piece be inundated with “Nick stood up. George eyed him. Sam ran off,” I would have liked something to help me complete the picture, especially since I am rather far removed from the scene and experience itself.
Hemingway is never bad; let me stress that. This story just seemed to fall on the lower end of his works—something that still has worth and value, but has trouble standing up to his other tales. It was a good experience, and I’m glad I read it, but I am now going to pull out “The Snows of Kilimanjaro” and drown myself in the tragedy of Henry and Helen.
It’s more than commendable that this story was written in bed, in a day, and like all Hemingway’s stories, it’s intriguing and has dialogue that flows so effortlessly you could float a boat down it, but I have to say, as a whole, I was kind of let down. It seemed like the piece existed on two planes that could not quite come together: description and dialogue.
I enjoyed the ambiguity of Ole Anderson’s plight, and I liked the low-key, bland way George and Nick handle the ending (“They’ll kill him”/ “I guess they will,”) but I didn’t really feel connected to this story. The descriptions, when present, are glorious and spotless and true-to-form Hemingway, and I love them dearly, but as a whole, I kept finding myself wanting more. Any kind of reaction, any kind of small bone—especially when Max and Al are heckling the other men in the bar—would have not only helped me visualize the characters of Nick and George better, but it would’ve help me blend the dialogue and the imagery into a more accessible soufflé of literary genius, but I just couldn’t get there.
The dialogue is something I could only ever hope to write, but unfortunately, it’s what solely drives the story. By page three, the quotations marks began to feel cumbersome, like I was trudging through a field of mud, and each time it was harder and harder to pull my feet up. When I came across a rare sentence or two that was a description, it was like I’d reached solid land, only to be dragged back down again. Even screenplay and scripts have basic descriptions of action, and while I’m suggesting the piece be inundated with “Nick stood up. George eyed him. Sam ran off,” I would have liked something to help me complete the picture, especially since I am rather far removed from the scene and experience itself.
Hemingway is never bad; let me stress that. This story just seemed to fall on the lower end of his works—something that still has worth and value, but has trouble standing up to his other tales. It was a good experience, and I’m glad I read it, but I am now going to pull out “The Snows of Kilimanjaro” and drown myself in the tragedy of Henry and Helen.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
The Killers Review
I equally enjoyed and disliked this story. One of the best aspects of the writing style is the intricate use of dialogue. Sometimes stories with a lot of dialogue can lose the ‘flavor’ or overall ‘attitude’ of the story. Also authors run the risk of becoming so caught up in the dialogue that bits and pieces of the original story can become lost. Hemmingway’s story does not lose any attitude or the original aspects of the characters. For this story, the characters are developed through the dialogue. In fact, characters should be developed through dialogue and I think we can all learn from this particular story just how to do that. However, on the flipside of the dialogue, at times it took such a precedent in the story that I forgot some of the basic descriptions I was told at the beginning of the story. I found myself returning to differnet parts of the story as I read. So, alas, the question I take from reading this story is how much of both dialogue and description does it take to create a poignant story without overwhelming the reader?
The story is definitely a great example of building tension. The entire time you read, you are wondering when and if the owner is going to come through the door and get shot. The ending lets you know that eventually the guy is going to get shot. After I put the story down, I was disturbed because though I knew what was going to happen, I still wanted to read about it for closure. Why closure, I’m not sure. I guess because I’m just use to stories giving me an ending of some kind and not leaving me hanging. I liked how this story takes place on two sets, mainly one, that being the diner. By having the story stay in one place for a good portion of the story, you are able to create a specific scene and feel to the overall plot and characters. I think it would be a good challenge to write a short story that happens in one place for the entire story. It would be interesting to see what plot and characters I could develop.
The story is definitely a great example of building tension. The entire time you read, you are wondering when and if the owner is going to come through the door and get shot. The ending lets you know that eventually the guy is going to get shot. After I put the story down, I was disturbed because though I knew what was going to happen, I still wanted to read about it for closure. Why closure, I’m not sure. I guess because I’m just use to stories giving me an ending of some kind and not leaving me hanging. I liked how this story takes place on two sets, mainly one, that being the diner. By having the story stay in one place for a good portion of the story, you are able to create a specific scene and feel to the overall plot and characters. I think it would be a good challenge to write a short story that happens in one place for the entire story. It would be interesting to see what plot and characters I could develop.
Friday, September 19, 2008
After reading other people's responses, I feel a little better about Borges' "Tlon, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius"--not because I understand it any better, but because I'm kind of relieved I'm not the only one who doesn't really feel like I get it. I enjoyed the story well enough on a superficial level; the premise interested me, and I thought the writing was very good. It throws out a lot of information in a short space, but to me it felt manageable, and I think I enjoyed the early stages of the story better than the later ones, in fact, because they felt more story-like than the simple descriptions of the way of life in Tlon. The philosophical discussions that got brought in with the recitation of what was in the encyclopedia entry were mind-twisting, and I don't think I really understood them yet--the explanations they come up with for the nine coins, their ideas about language, etc.
Even that, though, didn't make me feel completely overwhelmed by the story until I finished it. It feels... Big, like it's supposed to be a story with Meaning. And I feel like whatever greater Meaning it has, I have completely missed it. I got so convoluted somewhere over what was real and what wasn't, and what might it mean that this part is true and this part is completely false, that it became hard to come up with any greater significance to it than showing the reality and fiction are closer than we think, or that one creates the other perhaps. It left me enjoying the story while I read it--and not liking it very much at all once I actually finished and had to sit down and think about what I read. I didn't connect with it, in the end, because it largely lacked characters, and the plot was minimal--the main body of the story was establishing the fictional planet, with just the bare bones to make a story around that. I think that fact was what made it feel very heavy and Meaningful--like there was some huge philosophical significance, simply because there wasn't much there that wasn't heavy and philosophical.
Even that, though, didn't make me feel completely overwhelmed by the story until I finished it. It feels... Big, like it's supposed to be a story with Meaning. And I feel like whatever greater Meaning it has, I have completely missed it. I got so convoluted somewhere over what was real and what wasn't, and what might it mean that this part is true and this part is completely false, that it became hard to come up with any greater significance to it than showing the reality and fiction are closer than we think, or that one creates the other perhaps. It left me enjoying the story while I read it--and not liking it very much at all once I actually finished and had to sit down and think about what I read. I didn't connect with it, in the end, because it largely lacked characters, and the plot was minimal--the main body of the story was establishing the fictional planet, with just the bare bones to make a story around that. I think that fact was what made it feel very heavy and Meaningful--like there was some huge philosophical significance, simply because there wasn't much there that wasn't heavy and philosophical.
"Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius" by Jorge Luis Borges
I guess, on the one hand, the easiest response to this story would be to write, "What the hell just happened on those pages?" The story was detailed and complicated, contained what seemed like far too many particulars, and managed to jump around like crazy while still moving chronologically.
I think the postscript was the most interesting aspect of the story. Even though I'd read the entire "article," I still was not entirely sure that I was reading fiction and not some radical and/or underground article from the '40s when I reached this section. This had to be intentional, as Borges plays up this potential by naming a relatively innocuous, generic publication (Anthology of Fantastic Literature(1940)) in the first paragraph, making statements that were entirely in keeping with what an author might say about a now-dated piece, right down to addressing that he used different tones and metaphors for the "article." This was his own form of "breaking the pattern" we talked about with Barthelme, totally throwing the reader before plunging back into the myth of "the Tlon conspiracy/takeover," going even more over the top than he had before AND incorporating his own philosophical conclusions about man's seemingly greatest achievement.
I liked Borges' form of story-telling. I thought that the precise manner in which he diverted the reader's (or at least my) attention, by both overloading the reader with imagined particulars such as names and dates and on occasion using what would typically just be the end of sentences to go off on brief-yet-vivid anecdotes about individual instances both within Tlon and in the human creation and "discovery" of the imagined Tlon, were brilliant. Though the piece is certainly difficult and confusing to the reader, such absurdity feels meticulously constructed.
"Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius" by Jorge Luis Borges
I have mixed feelings about this story. At some points I felt like I knew what was going on and then in others I was always wondering what the hell it was talking about. There were several parts of the story that I had to read multiple times just so I wouldn't lose track of the story. But more times than not I lost track of it.
Something that probably might of helped me understand this story would have been a well established main character. If there would have been a main character taking us on an adventure to find information about this imaginary country, then I might have been able to follow the story a little easier.
While I was reading the story, I kept thinking about the DaVinci Code. This story had a lot of similarities to Dan Brown's book. Like the secret society in this story that was chosen to carry this idea reminded me of the "Priory of Sion" that is found in the DaVinci Code.
The story did give some interesting theories that I had never thought of. But, the reason why I probably had never thought of them is because they are so unrealistic. They just really didn't make any logical sense.
Something that probably might of helped me understand this story would have been a well established main character. If there would have been a main character taking us on an adventure to find information about this imaginary country, then I might have been able to follow the story a little easier.
While I was reading the story, I kept thinking about the DaVinci Code. This story had a lot of similarities to Dan Brown's book. Like the secret society in this story that was chosen to carry this idea reminded me of the "Priory of Sion" that is found in the DaVinci Code.
The story did give some interesting theories that I had never thought of. But, the reason why I probably had never thought of them is because they are so unrealistic. They just really didn't make any logical sense.
"Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius" by Jorge Luis Borges
I have to say that “Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius” is easily the weirdest short story I’ve ever read. When I finished it, I concluded that the idea of writing about a secret society creating a fictitious encyclopedia about a made-up planet, complete with a made-up language and made-up ways of thinking, was very compelling, but I simply did not enjoy Borges’ execution.
I found the story hard to read, often times uninteresting because of the sheer mountain of made-up facts, and was bothered by the descriptions of Tlön’s laws and customs. Things like the argument about the nine coins story I just found nonsensical.
The strangest thing about the story was the fact that I didn’t feel like I was reading a short story. Several times I asked myself whether this was the right handout or if I had mistakenly started reading the assignment for my nonfiction class. The challenge of reading about of a work of fiction as the subject of a short fiction piece was very demanding.
This might also have to do with the narrator’s extremely dense voice. There is an endless number of facts and references to things that aren’t real, not even in the world of the story, yet the narrator seems to assume that the reader is familiar with them. I never felt a personal connection to anything the narrator said. I have to say that the story left me cold, with the exception of the very beginning, when he brings up the saying Bioy claimed to have read. I found that part amusing.
At the beginning, I was hoping for some sort of tense story about a mysterious book. I was reminded of the movie The Ninth Gate by Roman Polanski. But the further I read, the more abstract the story became, and the more I lost interest.
I have a strong feeling that everything Borges tried to say with his story went completely over my head. This seems to be confirmed by the enormous length of the Wikipedia article devoted to the story. Maybe if I read up on it, the brilliance of the story will become self-evident. But for now, it’s lost on me.
I found the story hard to read, often times uninteresting because of the sheer mountain of made-up facts, and was bothered by the descriptions of Tlön’s laws and customs. Things like the argument about the nine coins story I just found nonsensical.
The strangest thing about the story was the fact that I didn’t feel like I was reading a short story. Several times I asked myself whether this was the right handout or if I had mistakenly started reading the assignment for my nonfiction class. The challenge of reading about of a work of fiction as the subject of a short fiction piece was very demanding.
This might also have to do with the narrator’s extremely dense voice. There is an endless number of facts and references to things that aren’t real, not even in the world of the story, yet the narrator seems to assume that the reader is familiar with them. I never felt a personal connection to anything the narrator said. I have to say that the story left me cold, with the exception of the very beginning, when he brings up the saying Bioy claimed to have read. I found that part amusing.
At the beginning, I was hoping for some sort of tense story about a mysterious book. I was reminded of the movie The Ninth Gate by Roman Polanski. But the further I read, the more abstract the story became, and the more I lost interest.
I have a strong feeling that everything Borges tried to say with his story went completely over my head. This seems to be confirmed by the enormous length of the Wikipedia article devoted to the story. Maybe if I read up on it, the brilliance of the story will become self-evident. But for now, it’s lost on me.
I Miss Barthelme
The first half of this week’s story, “Tlon, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius,“ was undeniably interesting. I was quite taken with the idea of a mysterious encyclopedia entry existing, falsified (yet possibly true) information being read and cross-referenced, not to mention the language used or how it created an eerie, almost uncomfortable feeling within the reader. The quote Bioy recites as an old Uqbarian proverb, “Mirrors and copulation are abominable, for they multiply the number of mankind,” is completely brilliant, and even though within the confines of the story, inaccurate, easily one of my favorite lines from a text. I was curious to find out why Uqbar couldn’t be tracked down, and the two men being left, confused and shocked in a national library, was exciting. I wanted more.
However, this is where the piece lost me. Part two and the entrance of the encyclopedia of Tlon, some other world, made little sense to me, and if anything, began to feel like I wasn’t reading a story, but rather some stuffy textbook. The part discussing how the people strung together words based on their regions was original and made me smile--I actually tried dabbling in the adjective combination myself--but the story immediately fell back in to a rhythm and tone that did everything this side of heinous save fashioning me a pair of cement shoes and tossing me over a bridge, laughing all the while.
I couldn’t figure out the importance of knowing the Tlon geometry system or any other aspect of their life. It just became a burden to read, and I blame the narrator voice and tone for that. It was difficult to read, which made it difficult to care. Maybe, in time, I’ll go back and read it, try to grasp more of its true meaning, but for now, I’m going to tap out quietly on this one.
However, this is where the piece lost me. Part two and the entrance of the encyclopedia of Tlon, some other world, made little sense to me, and if anything, began to feel like I wasn’t reading a story, but rather some stuffy textbook. The part discussing how the people strung together words based on their regions was original and made me smile--I actually tried dabbling in the adjective combination myself--but the story immediately fell back in to a rhythm and tone that did everything this side of heinous save fashioning me a pair of cement shoes and tossing me over a bridge, laughing all the while.
I couldn’t figure out the importance of knowing the Tlon geometry system or any other aspect of their life. It just became a burden to read, and I blame the narrator voice and tone for that. It was difficult to read, which made it difficult to care. Maybe, in time, I’ll go back and read it, try to grasp more of its true meaning, but for now, I’m going to tap out quietly on this one.
Conspiracy Theory? Maybe...
I thought the story was a very interesting progression of thought process. To be honest, it reminds me a lot of how someone who is a conspiracy theorist or someone suffering from schizophrenia might think. The beginning is so fact oriented, but it’s when those pieces of facts come together that the mind runs wild for the narrator. Although sifting through all the facts, at times, seems a bit boring and tedious, I definitely see the purpose in it. I think the story isn’t supposed to be entirely engaging from first read, or at least as a progressive read. I think it’s really a comprehensive thought process on paper. You have to read the story, then go back and actually see what all has happened – look at it from the outside in.
One thing I have struggled figuring out, though, is the purpose or meaning behind Tlon. It seems to serve so many potential metaphors in the story. At first I really did think it was a representation of conspiracy theories, but I questioned that toward the end. Certainly my favorite line in the story is “Spellbound by Tlon’s rigor, humanity has forgotten, and continues to forget, that is the rigor of chess masters, not of angels” (81). This line was so powerful by itself, and it really has that conspiracy theory quality to it. You have the manipulators, the chess masters, and the mention of angels, the religious sect that the chess masters are trying to conquer.
I really enjoy the end of the story, as well. It’s the perfect peak to the out of control mind of the narrator. It’s as if the narrator becomes Tlon – embodies it. Then, you have this notion that this world will expand and continue on – that this process will continue to go on through time and continue to spiral until perhaps it is the only reality accepted.
One thing I have struggled figuring out, though, is the purpose or meaning behind Tlon. It seems to serve so many potential metaphors in the story. At first I really did think it was a representation of conspiracy theories, but I questioned that toward the end. Certainly my favorite line in the story is “Spellbound by Tlon’s rigor, humanity has forgotten, and continues to forget, that is the rigor of chess masters, not of angels” (81). This line was so powerful by itself, and it really has that conspiracy theory quality to it. You have the manipulators, the chess masters, and the mention of angels, the religious sect that the chess masters are trying to conquer.
I really enjoy the end of the story, as well. It’s the perfect peak to the out of control mind of the narrator. It’s as if the narrator becomes Tlon – embodies it. Then, you have this notion that this world will expand and continue on – that this process will continue to go on through time and continue to spiral until perhaps it is the only reality accepted.
The Objective and the Subjective in a Parallel Universe
In the fictional world of Tlön, the objective world and the subjective mind are the same, so every thought is reality, and vice versa. My guess is that the reader is supposed to apply that school of thought to the fictional world that the narrator of the story is informing us about. So the fact that someone took the time to write about Tlön means, ontologically, it actually exists.
A meta-fictional Möbius strip exists between the narrator’s story and the heresiarch that formulates the “nine copper coins” thought experiment. Someone has written an encyclopedia about a world called Tlön, which we as readers, as least initially, think is kind of silly. Within that world, there is a philosopher who formulates a set of rules that is very much like our universe, and his colleagues chastise him and call it absurd. For the collective brains of this parallel universe, all minds, ideas, and objects are one and the same, and they can’t imagine something existing outside of their scope of sentience. They cannot imagine the coins just sitting their in the sand, existing along, even though no one perceives them.
As we read of this universe, our very disbelief in it shows that we have the inverse problem. The existence or nature of this place is not up for discussion – it either exists or it doesn’t, no matter what we think of it. We can’t fathom our consciousness having any bearing on the universe.
The “Volume 11,” and a lack of any other volume, I think, is evident that the inhabitants of Tlön are redefining their universe step by step by their thoughts. And the fact that the Earthlings who formulated this universe are doing the same suggests that we can do the same.
The thing I liked most about this story is that is in an ontological exercise in its very format. I don’t recall if you mentioned this story’s status as being fiction or nonfiction, and it could very well be either. It begs the question of what the difference is between fiction and nonfiction. Then again, as the story teaches us, it may not matter – perhaps if we were all to come to a consensus one way or the other, that decision would be objectively true.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Borge's Tolon, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius: Why can't it be real?
There is no easy way to read a story about a fictional place. This is my second time reading this story for class and even now, I find myself re-reading parts of the story to make sense. One thing about this story is that now matter how hard you try to fight the urge to make the imaginary worlds of Tlon and Uqbar real, they are, in the end, fake. That is hardest part about reading this story. I know, most of the things we read are fiction. But the narrator in this story is so involved in discovering the worlds that the reads are also pulled into believing the places are real.
One thing I didn’t like about the story was the structure the first few pages of the story took. Honestly, when I first started reading the story I was pretty bored. Had I not read the story before, I might not have finished it. But I stuck it out hoping to have a different experience than my previous. There is a lot of encyclopedia language in the first few paragraphs that bogs my reading experience down. I feel like I’m thrown into the middle of an on going story and I’m missing some vital information that I never have fully revealed once I finish the story.
Once I get through the first part of the story, I’m immediately swept into Borges’ attempt to create a story within a story. One fallacy I see when writing like this is the relationship developed between the narrator and reader. Once we start seeing that fictional world appear in the different encyclopedias, it established a trust relationship with the reader – that same trust I began to feel in hopes that Tlon was real.
I wonder if other readers/writers who read this particular story felt betrayed, or for a lesser word, let down that the land of Tlon wasn’t real.This story has challenged me to attempt to create my own planet/fictional world within a story. Some of the other stories that come to mind like this are Star Wars and other fantasy driven story lines. I think what distinguished those stories from Borges’ story, is that Borges’ story doesn’t develop any characters or conflict. Borge’s conflict is developed once the narrator finds some ‘holes’ in his search for Tlon’s existence.
I would have liked to see Tlon come full force with characters and other conflicts, but I guess it’s best that the story didn’t take that turn. Instead it leaves me wondering what exactly is real and what isn’t. A pretty good way to leave the reader hungry for more
One thing I didn’t like about the story was the structure the first few pages of the story took. Honestly, when I first started reading the story I was pretty bored. Had I not read the story before, I might not have finished it. But I stuck it out hoping to have a different experience than my previous. There is a lot of encyclopedia language in the first few paragraphs that bogs my reading experience down. I feel like I’m thrown into the middle of an on going story and I’m missing some vital information that I never have fully revealed once I finish the story.
Once I get through the first part of the story, I’m immediately swept into Borges’ attempt to create a story within a story. One fallacy I see when writing like this is the relationship developed between the narrator and reader. Once we start seeing that fictional world appear in the different encyclopedias, it established a trust relationship with the reader – that same trust I began to feel in hopes that Tlon was real.
I wonder if other readers/writers who read this particular story felt betrayed, or for a lesser word, let down that the land of Tlon wasn’t real.This story has challenged me to attempt to create my own planet/fictional world within a story. Some of the other stories that come to mind like this are Star Wars and other fantasy driven story lines. I think what distinguished those stories from Borges’ story, is that Borges’ story doesn’t develop any characters or conflict. Borge’s conflict is developed once the narrator finds some ‘holes’ in his search for Tlon’s existence.
I would have liked to see Tlon come full force with characters and other conflicts, but I guess it’s best that the story didn’t take that turn. Instead it leaves me wondering what exactly is real and what isn’t. A pretty good way to leave the reader hungry for more
Friday, September 5, 2008
Barthelme's "The School"
I think the most effective element Barthelme employs in this work is the narrator’s voice and tone. The teacher, our narrator, refuses at any point to fully commit to any one thought or opinion, repeatedly using ellipses and such phrases as “you know,” refusing to give us anything concrete. While we certainly would not refer to this form of recounting and story-telling as objective, we nevertheless do feel as though we are getting a relatively genuine viewpoint. At no point in the reading did I feel like he was skewing the facts for any reason; I believed what I was being told. Instead of seeing these deaths as tragic, or deserved, or horrific, or any of the other countless emotions that could be applied, the narrator is instead simply jaded. We feel that, unlike his students, he has experienced enough death to see this string of fatalities as an existential coincidence. Were he not forced to deal with death in the sense that his students look to him to help them understand, his tone could have just as well been used to describe the weather or the daily grind of rush hour. Though we may accuse our narrator of being apathetic, at no point do we find him to be untrustworthy.
I would almost describe this form of narration as stream of consciousness. This is obviously not true in the strictest sense; it does not feel like one never-ending rant full of random one-liners and observations. However, I feel like so much death has occurred that the teacher has in some sense checked out, not wanting to deal with it anymore. He has allowed his brain to turn on and observe, but he refuses to engage it. As I have already said, this gives us a genuine view of the happenings of the story. It also conjures a vivid-yet-dreamlike image of the story, one in which I can completely buy school children talking like English and philosophy grad students, the narrator’s orphaned thoughts embodied in them despite their respective ages and maturity levels. The same goes for the gerbil arriving. In the narrator’s mind, it makes no difference whether or not it knocks on doors and walks in like a Disney character.
I am sure that in some ways the teacher is the epitome of the unreliable narrator. The argument could be made that he is indeed so scarred by death that he is seeing and hearing things that are not really there. However, as a reader, I took the noncommittal narration to be a brilliant tool that allowed me to experience things objectively, albeit through the narrator’s eyes.
"The School" by Donald Barthelme
The School by Donald Barthelme is a great example of blending short story narrative along with flash fiction to give the reader a great image alongside great ideas. I love how the themes of death and loss are played throughout and how bluntly put these themes are written.
Lines such as "We weren't even supposed to have a puppy."
"We weren't even supposed to have one..."
really drive the point home, all the while keeping a dark, humorous tone. I especially like how the reader is put into this situation of being in a deadly school, where nothing seems to live long and there is tragedy around every corner.
This could be a metaphor for how fragile life is and how the years spent in grade school can actually be fairly tragic, despite there being actual death.
The tone to this story is dark and humorous, yet it's written in a very intelligent voice to keep the actions within the story from seeming too silly or amateur.
My only criticism is the end of the piece where the children challange the teacher and assistant to make love. I understand how this could be fitting to the rest of the pice, considering the theme is tragedy and this could be referring to sex and orgasm as being "beautifully tragic," and at times, a loss. However, I wanted more from this idea to confirm my thoughts of this being a metaphoric device for the reader.
Lines such as "We weren't even supposed to have a puppy."
"We weren't even supposed to have one..."
really drive the point home, all the while keeping a dark, humorous tone. I especially like how the reader is put into this situation of being in a deadly school, where nothing seems to live long and there is tragedy around every corner.
This could be a metaphor for how fragile life is and how the years spent in grade school can actually be fairly tragic, despite there being actual death.
The tone to this story is dark and humorous, yet it's written in a very intelligent voice to keep the actions within the story from seeming too silly or amateur.
My only criticism is the end of the piece where the children challange the teacher and assistant to make love. I understand how this could be fitting to the rest of the pice, considering the theme is tragedy and this could be referring to sex and orgasm as being "beautifully tragic," and at times, a loss. However, I wanted more from this idea to confirm my thoughts of this being a metaphoric device for the reader.
"The School" by Donald Barthelme
I love the short story “The School” by Donald Barthelme. I had to read it once before for EN 200, along with “The Perfect Gerbil” by George Saunders. Our instructor, Nick Pincumbe, was very fond of the concept of “gas stations,” the little surprises in the story that prevent a pattern from becoming boring and send us back on our way replenished and satisfied, and had us look for them in each other’s stories at every workshop.
I think every accomplishment of Barthelme’s story is noted by Saunders, so I can only agree with what he says. The pattern he establishes is so bold and well-executed that it’s a pleasure even after Barthelme repeats it a half dozen times. The ending then takes a completely different direction, and is a sheer delight. The students’ elevated tone and the presence of Helen are left unexplained, and incredibly, Barthelme manages to take the absurdity even a step further forward, with the students requesting a demonstration of lovemaking. The ending is positive and not as cynical as I would have expected. Sure, there is a new pet whose fate is uncertain, but it seems like there is a lot of hope.
But most of all, I think, I enjoy the tone of the narrator. It’s not the tone I would expect from an elementary school teacher. He’s very wise and dry; he tells us the whole story and doesn’t hold back. He seems to be without emotion and just recounts what happened, not acknowledging any escalation. At the same time, his “stuttering, fragmented syntax,” as noted by Saunders, gives him a comfortingly real personality without taking away from his authority to tell the story. At the end, I’m happy for him as things seem to look up again; he’s found love and the new class pet might actually have a chance this time.
The story ends, not with an escalation of the same pattern in some kind of boring punch line way, but by taking a whole new unexpected direction. There’s a real resolution to a story that could have been just a long, drawn-out joke that would have been amusing, but nevertheless nothing more than a joke, instead of a fully-formed, and in my opinion, great, short story.
I think every accomplishment of Barthelme’s story is noted by Saunders, so I can only agree with what he says. The pattern he establishes is so bold and well-executed that it’s a pleasure even after Barthelme repeats it a half dozen times. The ending then takes a completely different direction, and is a sheer delight. The students’ elevated tone and the presence of Helen are left unexplained, and incredibly, Barthelme manages to take the absurdity even a step further forward, with the students requesting a demonstration of lovemaking. The ending is positive and not as cynical as I would have expected. Sure, there is a new pet whose fate is uncertain, but it seems like there is a lot of hope.
But most of all, I think, I enjoy the tone of the narrator. It’s not the tone I would expect from an elementary school teacher. He’s very wise and dry; he tells us the whole story and doesn’t hold back. He seems to be without emotion and just recounts what happened, not acknowledging any escalation. At the same time, his “stuttering, fragmented syntax,” as noted by Saunders, gives him a comfortingly real personality without taking away from his authority to tell the story. At the end, I’m happy for him as things seem to look up again; he’s found love and the new class pet might actually have a chance this time.
The story ends, not with an escalation of the same pattern in some kind of boring punch line way, but by taking a whole new unexpected direction. There’s a real resolution to a story that could have been just a long, drawn-out joke that would have been amusing, but nevertheless nothing more than a joke, instead of a fully-formed, and in my opinion, great, short story.