Toni Morrison on Song of Solomon

Here is an interesting interview with Toni Morrison on Song of Solomon.

Towards the end of the video she mentions why she wanted Milkman to be obsessed with escaping and flying, and that was what I found most interesting because she tells us why she wanted to write the story in the first place. 

One thing I love about listening to interviews with authors is that you get to understand why they wrote what they did, and what they were thinking when they wrote it. You find out why it is significant to them and their lives. Sometimes I feel like we over analyze things in English classes, and I often find myself wondering what the author really was thinking and whether or not we interpret it completely differently.

That's the cool thing about any creative art form--everyone has their own interpretations based on how they connect to the book and sometimes these interpretations differ from the author's. That doesn't mean that we're wrong, but I do like getting to know the author's perspective on their work. (Too bad Shakespeare is dead because I would have had loads of questions for him about his plays.)

Make me a bird

Milkman's desire to fly away reminded me of Jenny in "Forrest Gump," only Milkman's motivations are quite different from Jenny's. 

The one thing that Milkman ever was obsessed with was flight. From an early age, he loved anything that could fly and always wanted to fly. This has an important impact on his development as a child because once he realizes that he cannot fly, he loses all interest in himself.

It's this loss of an interest in himself and an imagination that creates the unambitious and lazy Milkman in the next few chapters of the novel. Milkman is only looking out for his own safety, and he never really grows up because he isn't looking at himself critically on an introspective level. Milkman doesn't change because he doesn't think the change is necessary because he doesn't realize that a problem exists in the first place. He doesn't see the problem because he still has no interest in himself and refuses to examine his character. 

Deep down, all Milkman wants to do is escape. He wants to fly away and create a life different than that of the people back home. He hates the thought of becoming more like his father. Flight is the potential of the future, the great unknown--like the horizon beyond the hood ornament of the winged woman. Milkman wants to conquer this unkown future, but he doesn't want to give up his comfort at home. This leaves him stuck.  

This urge to escape is also a sign of immaturity on Milkman's part. He would rather run from problems than confront them, and he can get away with this because he is rich enough to afford a plane ticket. For example, when asked what he would do if he lived in Alabama amidst the rampant racism, Milkman responds that he would grab a plane ticket and fly away as quickly as he could. He doesn't think about solving some of his family issues, or trying to mend things with his friends, but instead takes a plane far away on a selfish quest for gold.

The ironic thing is that the more Milkman tries to fly away, the more he is reminded of and brought back to his family. He flies away to Pennsylvania and meets all of these people who tell him stories of his family. Also, Milkman is basically still carrying out his father's orders to find the gold, so he hasn't yet escaped his father's influence.

Milkman can't fly away, because it's like Guitar said "Wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down." Milkman hasn't given up the things weighing him down. The things weighing him down, are his own ideas on privilege. He can't move forward in life because he is still stuck in the world where he has enough money to do whatever he wants. Milkman hasn't realized that there is more to life than money and personal safety and security. 

Perhaps Milkman will finally mature in the last few chapters of the novel. I'm excited to see how his character will (or won't) grow by the end of the novel. I have a theory though, that the song

Sugarman done fly, Sugarman done gone

Sugarman cut across the sky, Sugarman gone

will have something to do with Milkman and the ending of the book. 

Creative Project: Antoinette's Insanity

For my creative project this semester I decided to use photography to illustrate Antoinette's experiences in her attic prison. I chose to have an all dark background, with minimal colors in the actual pictures, to accentuate the dramatic scenes and thoughts that Antoinette experiences. The body language and facial expressions in the photos are the main focus. Another reason for the black background is because of Grace Poole's quote that calls Antoinette "that girl who lives in her own darkness." 

I decided to put the photos where Antoinette explores outside of the attic in black and white because to the outside world Antoinette is only a forgotten ghost. 

These photos were all inspired by actual quotes in the novel. 

(Thanks to Allie Hartman for being such a patient and amazing model, and thanks to my sister and my mother for helping me arrange the lights and the props.)

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"But above all the thick walls, keeping away all the things that you have fought till you can fight no more. Yes, maybe that's why we all stayed -- Mrs Eff and Leah and me. All of us except that girl who lives in her own darkness." (Rhys 178)

"I'll say one thing for her, she hasn't lost her spirit. She's still fierce. I don't turn my back on her when her eyes have that look. I know it." (Rhys 178)

"In the end flames shoot up and they are beautiful. I get out of bed to watch them and to wonder why I have been brought here. For what reason? There must be a reason. What is it I must do?" (Rhys 179)

"So there is still the sound of whispering that I have heard all my life, but these are different voices." (Rhys 180)

"When she is snoring I get up and I have tasted the drink without colour in the bottle. The first time I did this I wanted to spit it out but I managed to swallow it. When I got back into bed I could remember more and think again. I was not so cold." (Rhys 179)

"There is no looking-glass here. and I don't know what I am like now. I remember watching myself brush my hair and how my eyes looked back at me. The girl I saw was myself yet not quite myself. Long ago when I was a child and very lonely I tried to kiss her. But the glass was between us -- hard, cold, and misted over with my breath. Now they have taken everything away. What am I doing in this place and who am I?" (Rhys 180)

(This is one of my favorite shots, aside from the abysmal photoshop editing, because I love the way it shows the current Antoinette remembering her past Antoinette through a mirror. The image of the looking glass pops up several times throughout the novel, so I was even more excited to try out mirror photography.)

"Then I open the door and walk into their world. It is, as I always knew, made of cardboard. I have seen it before somewhere, this cardboard world where everything is colored brown or dark red or yellow that has no light in it. As I walk along the passages I wish I could see what is behind the cardboard." (Rhys 181) 

"She met another girl and the second girl said, 'Have you seen a ghost?' -- 'I didn't see anything but I thought I felt something.' -- 'That is the ghost,' the second one said and they went down the stairs together." (Rhys 182)

 (For this photo I did everything I could to make Antoinette look as much like a ghost as possible.)

"I took the red dress down and put it against myself. 'Does it make me look intemperate and unchaste?' I said. [...] But I held the dress in my hand wondering if they had done the last and worst thing. If they had changed it when I wasn't looking. If they had changed it and it wasn't my dress at all -- but how could they get the scent?" (Rhys 186)

"Time has no meaning. But something you can hold like my red dress, that has meaning [...] The scent that came from the dress was very faint at first, then it grew stronger. The smell of vetivert and frangipanni, of cinnamon and dust and lime trees when they are flowering. The smell of sun and the smell of rain." (Rhys 185)

"I let the dress fall to the floor [...] I looked at the dress on the floor and it was as if the fire had spread across the room. It was beautiful and it reminded me of something I must do. I will remember I thought. I will remember quite soon now." (Rhys 186-187)

"I wished to see it clearly so I lit all the candles, and there were many. I lit them carefully from the one I was carrying but I couldn't reach up to the chandelier. I looked round for the altar for with so many candles and so much red, the room reminded me of a church." (Rhys 188)

(The quote here is taken from Antoinette's nightmare, so I tried to make the photo dream like. Here, she is sleeping among many candles, seemingly floating in mid air. )

"I waited a long time after I heard her snore, then I got up, took the keys, and unlocked the door." (Rhys 190)

"I was outside holding my candle. Now at last I know why I was brought here and what I have to do." (Rhys 189)

"There must have been a draught for the flame flickered and I thought it was out. But I shielded it with my hand and it burned up again to light me along the dark passage." (Rhys 189)

Antoinette + Rochester = Catastrophe

There has been lots of class discussion about Rochester and Antoinette's relationship. Has Rochester ever loved Antoinette and could he ever love her? Could their relationship have ever been a healthy one?

I think that their relationship was never, and never could have been, true love. And, I think most of the blame for this falls on Rochester's shoulders.

Yes, I understand that Rochester comes from a frivolous English background and he expects everything to go his way because that's how he's been brought up, but this isn't a good enough defense for his actions in the book. 

First of all, Rochester is driven by his selfishness. He comes to the island for the sole purpose of getting a girl and a fortune--and he finds that in Antoinette. Right from the beginning Rochester doesn't love Antoinette but instead decides to lead her on by pretending that he cares for her so that she will marry him. When Antoinette tries to back out of the wedding, Rochester promises her safety and peace if they got married, but these are lies that he tells so that she will go through with the wedding (78-79). Why is he so concerned about her backing out of the wedding? Because he doesn't want to look like a poor fool to his friends back in England. 

Rochester also never respected Antoinette. He calls her other names like "Bertha" and doesn't really try to understand Antoinette. He just judges her through his narrow English worldview, and is annoyed when she doesn't act English enough. 

Finally, the way he responds to Christophine's ranting also makes me think that he never really loved Antoinette. After Christophine remarks about Rochester fooling Antoinette into thinking he loved her so that he could get the money, Rochester says "It was like that, I thought. It was like that. But better to say nothing. Then surely they'll both go and it will be my turn to sleep [...]" (152). Here Rochester is actually admitting that he never loved Antoinette. 

Rochester never actually cared if the relationship worked out in the first place. He just wanted his money and a wife, he didn't want any emotional attachment that came with it. I have little sympathy for such a character who uses others to get what he wants, and then blames his problems on others. Rochester has little excuse to blame his problems on Antoinette. It was his choice to travel to the islands, his choice to marry Antoinette, and his choice to neglect their relationship. Rochester is not a victim in this story, Antoinette is. 

Stuck

Frazz Comic from 10/31/13

Kafka's The Metamorphosis started out kind of funny, actually, but then as the book went on I just wanted to slam my head against the desk in agony. 

I remember reading the first bit that we were assigned to read, and I was certain that this book was going to be hilarious. The beginning was funny. This guy wakes up a bug and all he can think about is his work? I kept imagining him waking up and crossing his little bug arms in sudden frustration as he says to himself  "Huh, that's weird. But how am I supposed to get to work today?" Trying to explain why I found this funny is hard because when I do explain what I find funny, people look at me and go "what kind of sick person are you?! This man just tragically turned into a bug and you're laughing?"

Those who criticized my chuckles at the first few pages will be pleased to know that as the book went on I found it less humorous and more painful. The story of Gregor being rejected from the family, and gradually losing all connections to humanity, was rather sad and tragic to read. Reading it from Gregor's perspective I yearned for some of the other characters to somehow make him feel less lonely, but I also understood that it is difficult to socialize with a bug. 

I hadn't ever read this book before and I wasn't sure what to expect. I kept waiting for Gregor to return to his human self, but he never did. It's like how the Frazz comic puts it--Gregor couldn't get out of his bug body. I think that this small bit of hope for a happy ending is what made me keep turning the pages. I wanted a happy ending with Disney-esk morals that the main character learns after a hard life as a bug. Sadly, the true love's transforming kiss never came for Gregor.

In the end though, I'm almost glad that Gregor died. It makes for a more interesting book, maybe not a more satisfying ending, but interesting in the fact that it makes you think more about what you read. You discover that Gregor wasn't the only one who went through a transformation, but everyone else in the family did too. His sister grew up, his dad got a job, and they finally got the courage to move out and start over. So was his death really a bad thing in the end?

Go home Meursault--you're drunk

I think that one of the reasons why there is so much conflict in the sixth chapter of The Stranger is because Meursault is drunk, and this impairs his ability to think clearly about what he is doing. He is no longer the passive, nonchalant character from the first few chapters but instead displays emotion as he forgets to put on his apathetic act. 

Aside from the fact that Meursault tells us that he drank tons of wine during their beach picnic, there are other hints that Meursault is not in his usual state of mind as he has been before.

In this chapter, for the first time we see Meursualt taking sides in an argument instead of just passively watching and calling things "interesting." Perhaps being drunk makes Meursault forget the fact that he's supposed to be "emotionless." Not reacting to things emotionally must take a great deal of thought and effort, and in his sober state Meursault is used to being able to filter out his emotions completely. But, once he is drunk he is no longer able to filter things normally.

This is evidenced through the fights with the men who follow Raymond and Meursault to the beach. Meursault seems to have some sort of emotional investment in the fights because instead of standing back and not fighting he takes a side with Raymond. This is a first, because in other conflicts he has never really intervened but merely watched (e.g. when Raymond beats his girlfriend and when the old man beats his dog). In the beach fights, though, Meursault looks out for Raymond by yelling "Look out, he's got a knife!". This not only shows that he was on Raymond's side, but that he was somehow emotionally invested enough to want to warn Raymond of the weapon.

Also, the way Meursault describes the beach and the hot summer day is very surreal and almost dream-like. This is because he was drunk and not seeing the world as clearly as before. He comments on the fact that he has a piercing headache and can't stand the hot sunlight. Maybe this was because he was dehydrated and the alcohol in his system also caused him to get sick. (I looked this up, and apparently drinking too much on a hot summer day makes you more likely to get heat illnesses.) 

Perhaps Meursault's drunkenness is the reason why he chooses to shoot the man four more times than necessary. This is also an example of Meursault feeling emotion because he says that the four shots created unhappy emotions for him: "Then I fired four more times at the motionless body where the bullets lodged without leaving a trace. And it was like knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness. "

All the same, I don't think that the fact that he was drunk makes his crime any less serious. It would be false to say "Oh, well. He was drunk so he didn't actually mean to kill anybody." What I do think is interesting, though, is seeing this second side to Meursault where he shows at least a small bit of emotion (fear/judgement/unhappiness). 

Reading books to read minds

I was listening to NPR a week or so ago and I heard a Story of the Day podcast that was about the study that found that reading literature makes you more socially adept by enhancing your ability to perceive the thoughts and feelings of people around you. I thought immediately of The Sun Also Rises.

The study compared what they called popular fiction novels, books with predictable plots and common tropes, and literary fiction which tends to be more focused on complex character development and hidden meanings. Many times, readers have to infer what's going on in literary novels. 

The scientists found that the people who read literary fiction did better on tests of mind reading, and the group who read popular fiction did about as well as people who hadn't read anything at all. The explanation for this was that reading books is like immersing yourself in a new world of social interaction, and that even though it is a fictional one you still go through some of the same analysis and thinking when reading literary fiction that you do when interacting in real life.

I think Ernest Hemingway is a good example of this kind of literary fiction that makes you think critically about human interaction. The Sun Also Rises is a great example of a book that requires much inference to be fully understood.  The iceberg effect that Hemingway uses means that you almost have to read the book twice to get all the references and small details that are important to how the story unfolds.

The Sun Also Rises is a book that revolves completely around social interaction with ironic subtext that the reader has to decipher.  Jake's narration gives more background understanding and also interprets the conversations that he has with the people around him. One good example of this is all of the meaning behind Jake's last words of the novel: "Yes, isn't it pretty to think so?". Throughout the entire book, the reader has to interpret Jake's narration to figure out how exactly his judgements and biases influence the story. 

Perhaps this was one of the reasons why I didn't like the book very much when we first began reading. I didn't pick up on all of the small details, and I couldn't understand how a story like this would be interesting. It seemed to have little plot aside from various relationship conflicts and drinking at bars. After all the class discussions, though, the book became more interesting as we made connections and inferred what was going on in the story.

I personally think that it's cool to think that after reading literary fiction we're better at mind reading. It almost makes me want to go out and read a bunch of literary fiction just so that I can be a mind reader and (if I may reference Mrs. Dalloway just once more) be able to know people by instinct like Clarissa Dalloway felt she could.

If Bill Gorton was a taxidermist

Bill Gorton would probably make ridiculously ironic stuffed animals if he ever decided to become a taxidermist. He would also probably come up with most of these ideas while drunk. (Picture taken on the Uni German trip)

We walked down the St. Martin Strasse on a chilly June evening. The road split into two. One road was surrounded by small shops. The other had mostly hotels and restaurants. 

"We are smack dab in the middle of tourist central."  Brigitte pointed to the shops. "Better pull out your wallet because we're expected to pay some big bucks here. Garmisch doesn't pull anything over on me."

We walked on.

"Here's a fun tourist shop," Brigitte said. "Want to buy anything? Perhaps a stuffed hare?" 
"Come on," I said, "You can't seriously be buying into that tourist trap."
"Suppose they're hiding drugs in in it," Brigitte joked.
"Whoever made it was probably on those drugs," I said. 
"I want one," said Brigitte, "Just one winged bunny. And it even smokes!"
"For 50 euros? Hell no."
"Think of what it'd mean to have one though. You pay for their drug addiction. They give you a centerpiece to scare the neighbors." 
"It'd probably scare customs more than your neighbors."
"Fine. Have it your way. Doomed to a life of mediocre decor. Don't say I didn't warn you."

We walked on. 

Woolf Withdrawal

I'm going through Woolf withdrawal.

It's painful.

For the time being, I have to tear myself away my love for Mrs. Dalloway and Virginia Woolf, because if I don't then I will never be able to enjoy Hemingway's writing. My brain still wants to read in "Virginia Woolf" mode and hasn't yet adjusted to the simpler "Ernest Hemingway" mode.

This mostly manifests itself when reading Hemingway's short short sentences. After reading the long and beautifully metaphoric Woolf sentences, Hemingway's seem abrupt and choppy. It doesn't read the same. It takes almost more concentration to get used to these short sentences, which is ironic seeing as it should be easier to read because of its simplicity. 

But I think the thing I miss most about Woolf is the way she wrote her characters. She wrote the book almost from their point of view. We were privy to the innermost thoughts of all the characters, even some random Londoners walking down the street with Mrs. Dalloway. The story switches perspectives many times, giving us a vast amount of information on what the characters thought about the world, their place in it, and the people around them. 

The one thing that I find interesting about Hemingway versus Woolf is that Woolf used hardly any talking in her novel, and if there was it sometimes wasn't obvious at first glance who was having the conversation. In The Sun Also Rises, the majority of the book is either conversation between characters or thoughts from Jake.

These thoughts from Jake, a highly sarcastic and ironic narrator whose cynicism can be quite annoying at times, are interesting. But I want to know what Brett's thinking. I think Brett's thoughts would be fascinating to read because she has such a flamboyant public personality, and I wonder what her private self would look like. There are also so many other characters who would be interesting to read about from their perspective--characters like Robert Cohn, Frances, and Bill. Maybe even the policeman who smiled at Jake in the bar would have an interesting tidbit to add to the story, much like Scrope Pervis in Mrs. Dalloway.

I find Hemingway's writing style and his "iceberg principle" to be annoying after reading a book like Mrs. Dalloway. I don't just want to know about the surface interactions like the chit chat at the bar. I want to know what's beneath all that--what's going on in their heads at the bar (although, perhaps it's nothing coherent anyway if they're drunk). 

Mrs. Dalloway is a puzzle in book form. All the pieces of the story are laid out for us--scrambled around on the pages. It's up to us to piece them together as we read through each character's thoughts. The Sun Also Rises, on the other hand, is a riddle where a small amount of important information is available, and the reader must interpret and figure out a meaning for themselves by using what's present in the text. 

I really want to be able to like The Sun Also Rises, but so far I think I prefer the puzzle to the riddle. Hopefully as I get used to not reading Virginia Woolf I'll be able to appreciate Hemingway more than I do now.

Relationship status: It's complicated

The relationships between the characters in "The Hours" and Mrs. Dalloway are complicated but fascinating. 
(Click to enlarge and get a better picture)

The one thing that I thought the movie "The Hours" did an amazing job with was connecting all the characters to create both a new story while still alluding to the themes and ideas from Mrs. Dalloway. The story was so interesting because it took bits and pieces from many different characters and then melded them all together to make a powerful story.

 The film also did this through the way it was filmed and edited to make jumps in time between the stories. I loved the opening sequence where you see all the characters waking up and getting ready for the day with parallels such as the vases of flowers and washing their faces.

After today's fascinating discussion about characters in "The Hours" and Mrs. Dalloway and how they relate to each other, I drew up this weird diagram to illustrate the various connections going on between the film and the book. (Yeah, I'm that nerd that has to color-code everything educational.)

The circles are the four stories that are woven together by the movie "The Hours," and the main characters of these stories are placed around their respective circles (check the key for the color coding). The arrows drawn all over the diagram look messy at first glance, but they actually do mean something. The arrows connect the characters from the different stories based on how the characters are variations of the original Mrs. Dalloway characters. 

For example, the arrows coming from Virginia Woolf point to both Septimus and Clarissa Dalloway. This is because Woolf was similar to Septimus in that she had mental problems and struggled with depression--eventually taking her own life like Septimus did. She's also connected to Clarissa Dalloway because Clarissa's character's thoughts could be similar to how Woolf thinks when she isn't struggling with mental issues like Septimus. Also, Woolf's marriage with Leonard is much like Clarissa and Richard's relationship. 

I'll spare you the long-winded explanation of each and every character's connections, and instead I'll just give you explanations of the ones I find most interesting.

Laura --> Rezia 

Laura connects to Rezia because they are both trophies from the war. In both cases, their husbands married them immediately after the war, and it seems that they weren't necessarily wed out of love for each other but instead out of a desperation to return to civilian life. Septimus marries Rezia because he's trying to get back the human emotions that he lost when he got PTSD in WWI. Dan married Laura because the thought of having the perfect little wife and a perfect middle class life had haunted him all throughout the war, and Laura was the first woman to come to his mind after the war. 

Dan Brown --> Holmes

Dan is similar to Holmes in the way that they both have no clue what depression is. Both are just happily leading their lives, and if anyone is struggling with issues such as depression they don't understand it. In Mrs. Dalloway this leads to Holmes giving Septimus some bad advice on how to cope with PTSD, and in "The Hours" Dan can't even tell that his own wife is extremely depressed.

Vanessa Bell --> Holmes

Vanessa Bell is clueless about her sister's depression--like Holmes was clueless about Septimus--and is almost scared of her sister. Instead of letting Virginia talk about her problems, Vanessa ignores her and skirts around the subject of Virginia's mental issues until she is finally confronted in the dramatic kissing scene. 

Louis --> Peter

The scene between Louis and Clarissa Vaughn has many parallels to the scene in Mrs. Dalloway between Peter and Clarissa Dalloway. Louis barges in way too early for the party, and when Clarissa V. is asking about his life he says that he has found true love once more. Later, Clarissa breaks down crying once they start talking about Richard. This is very similar to the scene in Mrs. Dalloway where Peter comes in declaring his love for someone in India, and then he starts crying as Clarissa D. awkwardly sits next to him fixing her dress. 

A playlist for Mrs. Dalloway

A film's soundtrack is essential to the quality of the movie. For example, I would consider The Great Gatsby to be only an "ok" movie because of the disappointing soundtrack (I don't want to hear rap in a film set in the 1920s--I want jazz.), whereas I love the How To Train Your Dragon movie because its soundtrack is amazing.

Thus, I think one of the reasons why I found The Hours to be such a moving film was because of the soundtrack. I loved the cello and the piano solos with the orchestra in the background. It was beautiful melancholy music, and the tone it set was perfect for the film's plot. 

I do listen to more than just soundtracks, though. To feed my taste for music I always have the radio on, and yesterday as I was driving home the song "Summertime Sadness" was playing. I listened to the lyrics and I thought that it would be a perfect song to describe Clarissa Dalloway at her party. Then I started thinking about what the theme songs for the other characters in the novel would be, and eventually I came up with the playlist below. 

What songs would you have in your Mrs. Dalloway playlist?

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Clarissa -- "Summertime Sadness" by Lana Del Rey

"Summertime Sadness" starts with the singer preparing for a party by fixing her dress and hair, but afterwards the song quickly turns almost suicidal--much like Clarissa did at her party in Mrs. Dalloway. Also, the lines "I just wanted you to know, that, baby you're the best," are eerily similar to Virginia's suicide note in the film The Hours.

Septimus -- "Believe" by The Bravery

The lyrics of "Believe" by The Bravery almost perfectly match Septimus' thoughts throughout the book. The speaker in the song "Believe" is questioning why he's alive if he has nothing to believe and is "living just to breathe." Similarly, Septimus struggled with articulating exactly why he had given up hope for humanity, and in the end it ate away at him so much that he saw suicide as his only option. (Arcade Fire's Wake Up also applies to Septimus' situation.)

Peter -- "Back Then" by Julian Smith

There are countless songs about regrets and wishing to relive the past, but I think this one in particular fits with Peter's situation and his obsession with Clarissa.

Ms. Kilman -- "Kiss with a Fist" by Florence + The Machine

Ms. Kilman doesn't have any true friends--even Elizabeth isn't much of a friend to her. Instead, she has Clarissa as an enemy, and I think that she thrives off of her hate for Clarissa just like Clarissa loves to hate Kilman (for an interesting argument on this see Chas' blog post). If Clarissa can love to hate Kilman, then perhaps Kilman can love to hate Clarissa. In fact, Kilman defines her self-worth by comparing herself to the ungodly sinner of Clarissa Dalloway. Perhaps Clarissa and Kilman see their interactions like this song--mentally bouncing insults off each other until something explodes. Because perhaps a kiss with a fist is better than none, and an enemy is better than being alone.

Richard -- "San Francisco" by The Mowgli's

When we read about Richard declaring his life to be a miracle, I think I imagined Richard skipping along extremely happy at the thought of going home to tell Clarissa he loved her. Of course Richard is much too dignified to skip, but I like to think that if he had known this song then he would have, out of his excitement to tell Clarissa he loved her, at least whistled the tune as he walked home from Lady Bruton's.

A lesson in happiness

Last week, an episode of "This American Life" concluded with a quote about happiness that I think can be applied to the lives and thoughts of many of the characters in Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway. 

"Now, there is no obvious connection between a person's happiness and the way he tells stories about himself. But I think there's a not-so-obvious one. When you insist [...] that you're both lucky and indebted to other people, well, you're sort of prepared to see life as a happy accident, aren't you? 

It's just very different than if you tell yourself that you simply deserve all the good stuff that happens to you. Because you happened to be born a genius or suffered so much or worked so hard-- that way of telling the story-- well, it's what you hear from every miserable bond trader at Goldman Sachs, or for that matter, every other a-hole who ever walked the earth."

Obviously, one can connect the second half of the quote to a certain "intolerable ass" in Mrs. Dalloway--Hugh Whitbread--who all characters see as an annoyance because he acts superior to everyone. 

But I think that the first half of the quote is an accurate description of why Richard Dalloway is the happiest character of the entire novel. Richard is content, and he considers himself lucky to be living like he is. Richard has everything he ever wanted, and in one particular point in the book is he in awe of the fact that his life turned out so well and that he was able to marry Clarissa.

"Indeed, his own life was a miracle; let him make no mistake about it; here he was, in the prime of life, walking to his house in Westminster to tell Clarissa that he loved her. Happiness is this, he thought." (114) 

Richard is also happy because he loves and is very proud of his daughter Elizabeth. "But he had his Elizabeth; he adored his Elizabeth." (111)

Richard's happiness and contentment spills over into his relationships with the people around him. Richard--unlike Clarissa, Sally, and Peter--is never described as self-centered or egotistical. Instead, his interactions with others are almost always genuinely friendly (with the exception of Hugh). For example, when Peter is brought up at Lady Bruton's lunch Richard immediately thinks about how much he likes Peter instead of hating him for being in love with Clarissa (104). 

In contrast to Richard, I don't think that the other characters of Peter, Clarissa, and Ms. Kilman are truly happy or content. They may have their small moments of happiness, but in the end they're all just judging each other and comparing themselves to the people around them. Peter judges Clarissa for being shallow, Clarissa is mad at Peter for being so critical, and Ms. Kilman hates Clarissa for flaunting her wealth. 

None of them are content either. Clarissa is obsessed with hosting parties to distract her from her depression and thinking about what her life would have been like had she chosen Peter, Peter is still not over Clarissa, and Ms. Kilman hates herself because she sees herself as poor and unattractive. They all think that they deserve more than they have, or that they aren't living life they way they wish they could--they're left feeling sorry for themselves and wondering if it's all really worth it. It's no wonder that they're unhappy. 

Woolf as a photojournalist

My friend took this photo when we were at a coffee shop one day. This couple was just sitting down together talking and laughing over the books they were reading. (Photo: Abbie Mills)

As soon as we began talking about how Virginia Woolf gives us small snapshots of her characters in her novel Mrs. Dalloway, there was only one thing that I could think of--photojournalism.

Perhaps it was only because of my slight obsession with photography that the buzzword "snapshot" caught my attention during class that day, but whatever the case I think that Virginia Woolf's writing style and photojournalism share several similarities.

As we learned in Woolf's essays, she thinks that a novel isn't a novel unless it is intensely focused on the characters in the novel. She expresses her annoyance at Edwardian writers by saying 

"They have looked very powerfully, searchingly, and sympathetically out of the window; at factories, at Utopias, even at the decoration and upholstery of the carriage; but never at her, never at life, never at human nature" 

This is a beautiful picture of street lamps
in Romania, but it doesn't tell much of
a story. (Photo: Nat'l Geographic)

A great deal of photography is having good-looking photos of objects or landscapes. Of course these photos are beautiful and amazing to look at, but these photos do not seek to ask or answer questions of human existence. They merely look nice, much like how Woolf is saying that Edwardians' writing looks nice but doesn't capture the depth of humanity. 

"Life is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged; but a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end," says Woolf in another essay on writing fiction. 

Photojournalism recognizes this too. Life isn't an artistically arranged bouquet of flowers, and it isn't edited to perfection either. Life is about the people on this planet, the decisions they make, the things they create, and the interactions they share.

I love this photo of a family dinner where
the relatives are laughing and joking
with each other around the table. Photos
like this capture the emotions involved
in everyday life and then you, as the viewer,
also share in those emotions.
(Photo: Julian Smith)

Photojournalism captures human activity in a way that can both tell a story and challenge the viewer. Photojournalism is all about capturing the action--emotions, expressions, and movements. The instructor for a  photojournalism class that I took during Agora Days once said, “Look out for and capture the moments--that’s what makes photojournalism interesting.”

And indeed, it is what makes photojournalism interesting. For those captured moments are moments that reveal our character and our humanity. Photos like these can create bonds of recognition between people who have never even seen each other because many times we share more similarities than we first assume. There's something about being able to understand where another person is coming from that allows us to respect each other so much more.

When I see this photo I get a feeling
of happy contentment. Perhaps it's
because seeing this embrace reminds
me of hugs that I have shared with
people that I care about. Remembering
those hugs establishes a connection
between my life and the actions of
those in this picture
(Photo: Nat'l Geographic). 

The camera can only pick up so much, it's up to the viewer to decide what they see in a picture. Often times, when looking at photos, you get bombarded with emotions that then turn into thoughts and memories. Memories and thoughts that can either challenge your values and change your character, or impart a happy nostalgia and sense of wonder. These emotions reveal your own character to you when you look at dramatic photos.

Photojournalism also gives us glimpses into the darker sides of human nature with pictures of war and suffering. These pictures make the struggles of people all around the world all the more real to us. 

This picture of a mother and
her son in the aftermath of
the atomic bomb on Hiroshima
is a solemn reminder of the
unrelenting pain of war.
(Photo: Life Magazine)

Through Woolf's characters in Mrs. Dalloway, we see not only the outwardly respectable appearances, but also the complicated and conflicting emotions that go on behind the scenes in the minds of the characters. We see several sides to Clarissa and Peter, and we are privy to most of the thoughts and resulting actions of the characters in the book. Nobody is perfect, and Woolf's characters are certainly no exception.

Woolf's obsession with uncovering human nature to make more realistic art (in her case the art of the novel) could have made her a great photojournalist, but I'm glad she stuck with writing.

Although two different mediums, one writing and the other photography, both Woolf and photojournalists have the responsibility to accurately portray human emotion and character through their art for their respective audiences. Through both photojournalism and Woolf's novels, we learn what it means to be a part of this vast world full of unique human beings.

Tabasco ties

My dad's large selection of colorful ties. Note the childhood favorites of mine. 

When I was little my family lived in a small house, so the options for a game of hide-and-seek were few and far between. One had to get very creative when playing such a game, especially when your siblings also knew the house like the back of their hands and thus knew every nook and cranny to search.

The choice spots for hiding were (in order of hiding expertise required): the cupboard under the bathroom sink, inside the dress-up clothes trunk, and behind the row of ties in my parents' closet.

Alas, I have given away my favorite hiding places and now have lost all further hide-and-seek games if I play with any of you, but this story does have a purpose in this blog post other than revealing my closely guarded secrets to winning this childhood game.

In The Mezzanine my favorite footnote of the entire book is on page 27. It's a rather lengthy footnote (as Baker's footnotes go), but it is my favorite footnote because of all the ideas and emotions that this footnote contains. It's a footnote! It's supposed to be boring, additional information, right? Wrong.

At first Howie describes his love for glass doorknobs and the click-click noises of the turning signals in cars, but then he turns the footnote into an interesting explanation as to why he loves glass doorknobs so much. It's as if he's also discovering for the first time that the reason he loves glass doorknobs is because his father hangs his ties on doorknobs. Howie and his father share a love for quality ties, and in this footnote Howie seems to realize just how meaningful of a memory one doorknob can bring back for him.

I found this passage endearing. I loved getting to see Howie's character through his interactions with his dad and his fond memories of his dad's odd habit of hanging ties on doorknobs. Another reason why I loved this footnote so much was because it brought back a memory of mine from my childhood--the hide-and-seek games where I hid in my parent's closet.

--------------------

My sister squints her eyes shut and then starts counting very fast.

"1, 2, 3, 4,"

"Not so fast!" I yell, annoyed.

"5, 6, 7, 8," she says, even faster just to spite me for pointing out her cheating habit.

"If you're going to go that fast then at least give me 'till 30!" I shout over my shoulder as I dash to the closest hiding spot--the closet in my parents' bedroom.

I run in, shut the door as fast as I dare, and sit and wait for her to find me. I look around and the only interesting items in the closet, other than my mother's shoes, are my father's ties. He has the typical boring business ties. The blue, gold, and red are lined up next to each other (the green one is gone to work today), but there are better ties on the rack that stand out to my childish curiosity.

I rub the fabric of the tie where Charlie Brown is chasing his runaway kite as I glance at the tie covered in Tabasco bottles. I wonder to myself what exactly Tabasco is, and observe that the bottle looks like it could hold something alcoholic, but that would seem scandalous for dad to wear on a tie, so I'm left to ponder what the bottles contain and why they're worthy for a tie design¹.

I'm just moving on to the horribly orange and purple UT tie when suddenly the closet door is slammed open allowing bright light to stream in around the shadow of my sister's curly blonde head.

"Found you! You're it!" My sister giggles, as if she knew I was there all along.

I walk away from my hiding place, trying to look calm and collected, confident that I would beat her in round two.

I found her under the bathroom sink.

---

^{1. It's now 10 years later and I still have no idea why anyone would want a tie with bottles of Tabasco for a design. I think that my dad used to have a mild obsession with the condiment. He would pour obscene amounts of red hot sauce on any food item--from green beans to meatloaf, there was nothing that Tabasco couldn't make better. I think it was because the extra spice made it easier for dad to swallow his vegetables, and therefore provide a good example for his children at the dinner table. Except nowadays, instead of Tabasco sauce, all of his children spike their food with horrible mounds of ketchup. Coincidence? I think not.}

Maybe Aurelius was wrong

Here are three of my favorite examples of how artists rework trivial objects in life to make them into beautiful art projects.

Similar to how Nicholson Baker is able to write a book out of one lunch hour and make it interesting and relatable, these artists take commonplace items and habits and express them in a way that makes you appreciate the beauty of even the simple things in life.

Cerise Doucède's Égarements and Quotidien

Yayoi Kusama's Obliteration Room

Giuseppe Colarusso's Unlikely project

The artistic qualities of a fork

I think my most successful photo from my experiment was this photo of three forks and a spoon.

The class discussion today talked about how The Mezzanine turns the mundane, trivial, everyday consumer items into art by putting "a blank wall" around them--much like how a museum displays its art. 

By isolating the objects and talking about them in detail, Howie is forcing us to focus only on the object. He rants about straws, paper towels, and even garbage trucks. Somehow, he turns these commonplace items into objects of wonder and curiosity. Howie says that he wants to "set the escalator to the mezzanine against a clean mental background as something fine and worth my adult time to think about," and I think he succeeds in getting the reader to think more creatively about day to day life. 

This point of the book, and the discussion in class, reminded me of a photo experiment that I did last winter. 

I'm not a photographer by any stretch of the imagination, but at one point last year I really wanted to try out a homemade light box for my food blog that I was writing for nonfiction writing class. The goal was to make the food items look even more delicious by casting more light onto them, because usually well-lit subjects make a better picture. 

I found that taking pictures of the food was so much fun that I started grabbing things in the kitchen, and I found that when these trivial objects are placed on their own in the light box you suddenly see colors and shapes that you hadn't noticed before. And, now that I think about it, my use of the light box was similar to Howie's discovery of the rusted railroad spike in the well-swept garage. 

For example, the blue on the Earl Grey tea packet stands out in one picture, and so do the colors of the twisty straws in the next.

 Most of the time, when I make tea I don't even study the packet at all because I promptly discard it, but on it's own the packet is suddenly fascinating. I begin to notice that the packet is made of this papery plastic material. I also notice the shadows its crinkled shell casts, the fading color of dark blue and black on the design, and my ultimate betrayal of the "please tear here" instructions.

The twisty straws also become intriguing because they remind you of the swirly motion that occurs as you drink liquid through them. The white milk twists and turns, and your eyes cross as they look down your nose to examine the effect the twisty straw has on the drinking time of the liquid (only a few hundredths of a second more drinking time than using a regular straw). 

Howie would probably go into great detail about why and how twisty straws came into existence, but I'll save the extensive footnotes for another time. 

If you're interested here are some the shots that I came up with: