The many faces of Mrs. Dalloway

Posting this week reminded me of the beauty of literature, the main beauty, which has nothing to do with beautiful language or the actual act of writing, but more with the many interpretations that can come from one set of words. I see Mrs. Dalloway as a social commentary of WWI England, but I noticed many of my classmates focussed more on the element of personal decisions made by the characters, and how we might find ourself in many of these situations ourselves, in one way or another. Multifaceted texts are what makes this so fun, and proves that the study of English is no small order.

Mrs. Dalloway...

I didn't expect this novel to be as difficult to read as it was. I got through it, and I think my familiarity with Faulkner and his use of stream-of-consciousness helped me understand it more easily. I had expected Great Expectations to be harder than it was, I should have known this would prove to be more difficult than it looked.

Virginia Woolf is deserving of her reputation. I hadn't read anything that she had written before this class, and now I will probably make the effort to seek more of her work out. Well done. Interesting, challenging, but rewarding.

James Joyce, god among men...

James Joyce is responsible for me being an English major. No joke.

"The Dead" is certainly one of the greatest short stories written in the English language, and Portrait of the Artist and Ulysses are both literary masterpieces, the latter being a specifically monolithic work. How can you argue with this?

You can't. That's why no one does.

The end.

Oh, T.S. Eliot....

Maybe it's because of where I come from creatively, and I might be eating these words in years to come, but there's a lot of what Eliot does that is everything I dislike in poetry. I've always thought of the novel as the more cerebral art, or rather, the form that you'd want to undertake if you were going to write an overly cerebral work. Poetry, on the other hand, shouldn't be stupid, but there's no reason to litter your work with all kinds of obscure references. Perhaps that's just me, but you should write to BE understood, not to keep your audience at bay.

But like I said, that's just me. "The Waste Land" might be a masterwork, I just don't see it.

I'm gonna be like Yeats...

And abandon all of this civilization for the calming, cool solemnity of nature.

It's spring break, see you in a week.

Great Expectations wrap-up.

Well, I made it through Great Expectations. Good book.

I think the thing that sticks with me the most is the description of class struggles, simply because it's just as prevalent today, though not in our pop culture. Or maybe it is. Think about the celebrity worship that goes on in this country, where there are tabloids dedicated entirely to celebrity gossip. Celebrity gossip websites litter the internet. People seem to care more about the lives of Britney and Anna Nicole than the well-being of their own children.

Not really what Dickens was talking about, I know, and his struggle continues today, but the above paragraph has taken the forefront recently. Perhaps we don't have the desire so much to live like celebrities, but we've taken their lives as being more important than our own.

The mountain of Dickens...

I have a confession to make...

I've never read a Dickens novel before .

I know what you're thinking. How in the hell can this be the case? How could an English major in his last semester have gone this far without reading one of the literary giants of all time? The answer is kinda simple. First, I've never had a class require it. Ever. I never had teachers in high school that made their students read Great Expectations or Tale of Two Cities. And, due to Dickens's reputation as being the "English Mark Twain," I somewhat avoided him like the plague. You see, I'm not the biggest Twain fan. I find him to have great stories, but to get bogged down in the telling of them. His novels are my biggest contention, as many of his short stories I find to be quite good. They're concise, their language is better rendered, and there's less filler. Likewise, I've read a few Dickens stories, or selections from novels in textbooks, and found them to be readable. But, because of that Twain comparison, I always steered clear of any of these "must read" works.

But here we are, and it's required. Half way through, I'm enjoying it. It's challenging, but it should be rewarding as I plow through the rest of the novel.

Societal connections in Victorian literature...

Tackling these Victorian texts has been a fun and occasionally frustrating experience, but one thing that I've noticed is ever-present is a new kind of societal awareness in the writing. Where as past English authors seemed to focus on the individual in almost existential terms, Victorian authors seems to me more concerned with the individual as a part of society. There were plenty of changes happening during this time period, so that might account for this new awareness, but class struggles and differences are more apparent, and the struggles of women are also represented for the first time in this class. The Victorian period ushered in a new type of literature, one that definitely left its imprint on what came afterward.

And now Dickens awaits...

Victorian Literature...

I feel we have come to a point at which I will struggle. I've been underexposed and underappreciative of a lot of Victorian literature, but I am interested to understand it with greater clarity and find enjoyment in it that I find in my favorite literatures. So, here we go, hopefully I can come away from this with a better understanding and appreciation...

Frankenstein's creation...

The issue of narrator brought up by Doc Hoc is an interesting one.

I like the idea that Victor himself is certainly not supposed to be trusted, simply because of his mental and psychological state. He is tormented by his own failure and by the vision of his horrific creature, so there's no way that his testimony can be taken as an effective guide to the story.

But his monster... this is a being that has been taught nothing. Not only has it not learned to deceive from any other source, but it is also in a very vulnerable position of being in a mode of discovery, both of the world around him and the world within him. These two things in conjunction with each other make him a very reliable and honest narrator.

Frankenstein's evolution...

I'll be the first to defend Mary Shelley's Frankenstein as the definitive telling of the tale. This might seem like a major "duh!" statement, as she was the original creator of the story and the monster, but Frankenstein has taken on such a life of its own over the last two hundred years that the vision most of us identify with today is hardly Shelley's at all.

However, I will also not discount the evolution that the character, Frankenstein's monster, has undergone over the years.

As students of literature, we'll often advocate the original texts over any form of media created for mass consumption, but the dumbing down of a highly complex idea or story is inevitable eventually. Frankenstein caters to this more than anything. It's about a monster cobbled together from a human scrap heap. That right there is enough to entice the imagination. We should congratulate Shelley for her highly psychological work with this subject, because it takes a great mind to take something so straightforward and take it to a different place. But the evolution of the story and the character are obvious and should be expected.

The Big Questions...

Reading Percy Shelley and John Keats this week reminded me of the big questions that literary giants often tackle. The sheer immensity of these issues are so large and so largely personal, that authors can write on them for years and years to come. Because they are universal, readers always find and interest in these subjects, and as long a reader puts enough of themselves into the writing, it will be a joy to work through, if not a daunting task.

The two questions in question (ha!) are those of knowledge and immortality. Shelley tackles knowledge in "Hymn to Intellectual Beauty," which isn't so much about aesthetic beauty at all, or about the attractiveness of personality or intellect, but about knowledge itself. Shelley says that knowledge is beautiful, and that it takes on an otherworldly quality. At the same time, he recognizes that knowledge is gained through humanity, through our lives and out experiences. Everything about us has to do with our knowledge, and as we change and grow, our knowledge does as well. Though he views knowledge as something divine, he doesn't think it is bestowed from a higher power. It is the way in which human beings reach divinity, through their ability to gain and develop knowledge and wisdom.

Keats takes on another great question of literary giants, and especially poets, that of immortality. He ruminates that, as his life moves on and he gets older, he is becoming more and more doubtful of immortality. Like most artists, Keats believes that his work will be his legacy, a way he can live on forever, but his problem is different: he isn't sure that his work is worthy of living on forever. He worries that his writing isn't good enough to last, a worry that is as much unfounded as it is necessary. This is one of the most beautiful renditions of such a rumination, something destined to be read, studied, and enjoyed for years to come. The reason being so is it's overall self-awareness and ability to admit uncertainty.

So here we have two major questions from two majors. One wonders how many modern literary figures have new answers for them, or if they could render them as beautiful as Shelley and Keats have. I'm sure, as time and history change, perspectives change, and new answers and insights can be seen through modern works. But these two have laid a steady groundwork, creating meaningful poetry with a beautiful technique.

Interpretations, Authorial Intent, etc...

This post doesn't pertain to any specific author or work that we've discussed this week, but instead addresses an issue that I've noticed arise in every discussion forum over the last two weeks. This idea of interpreting the text, the author's intention, and all of that fun stuff. Being in English classes demands that we talk about these issues, but for me this has always been a pretty simple situation to work around.

It is self-evident to me that interpretation of a text should rely on the context in which it was written (everything from the state of the world to the socio-economic status of the author, and that author's personal and family history), the experiences which the reader brings to the text, and the larger issues which the story addresses, both directly or indirectly. The first part, context, has everything to do with the social, geo-political, and economic climate while the work was created. While more apparent in some works than others, it is rare to find works that exist completely outside of their environment. The second aspect, that of reader's experience, has been debated forever. I find it curious to believe that people assume they can completely remove themselves from their reading of a text, that they can look upon it with virgin eyes and a virgin mind. Our experience colors everything thing we see, from someone's words and actions in front of us to a fictional character's words and actions on the written page. An attempt at a "true reading" of a text by removing the emotional reactions to it is only making it more artificial. Finally, in reference to larger issues, I'm speaking mostly of critical techniques. We can view a work through a certain lens. Looking at a work this way might paint it into a certain corner, but at the same time it provides us with a fresh, new way to view something we might think we have all figured out.

Notice, I did not mention the author's intent as part of our interpretation of the story. The author's intent is his own, and while it might be useful as another way to view the text, this is usually not the case. Many authors have a much more minimal view of their work than critics do. They are often even annoyed by the process of analyzing their work. Creation is a very subconscious thing, so of course it is hard for them to see the true "meaning" of their work.

Not to mention, relying on the author's meaning is downright lazy from a critical standpoint. All intellectual engagement in the text is gone. Reading simply for recreation, this might be acceptable, but as a discipline it is baseless.

The Poet Revolutionary (Wordsworth)

In looking at William Wordsworth, I think the part I like most about the man is his political activism, as much as it was. In a day when artists are often criticized for pushing their political agendas to the forefront of their music and public image, we can see that Wordsworth did the same thing in colonial times. Not only did he write political, rights-centered poetry like " To Toussaint L'Ouverture," but he defended his stance when questioned by others. Often, you find that artists are immersed in their work, so much so that there is no separation between that work and their pulpit. Wordsworth, even though he wrote politically inspired poetry, seemed to be able to keep things apart when he needed to.

In his "Letter to Mary Ann Rawson," Wordsworth states his defense of slave owners. Obviously not a popular advocacy amongst abolitionists, I find this to be a bold and admirable move, if not slightly neglectful to the personal responsibility of the slave owners. Wordsworth rightly says that they aren't responsible for the legality of slavery, but that the legislature is. This is certainly correct. However, there are plenty of things that are legal today that could be considered immoral and contrary to basic human values, and those who participate in them cannot blame the government for their misstep.

I'm not saying that the abolition of slavery was a weak move. It was a wonderful move, a first step in a line of many that would eventually give people of color the same rights as all. However, I find Wordsworth to be in error in his simple deduction of the state of affairs. Are the slave owners 100% to blame? No. However, without their demand for slaves, Wordsworth would have no critiques of the legislature. He seems to take the stance of many neo-conservatives and members of the religious right today. Law makers are expected to dictate morality to the masses, rather than requiring the masses to make their own morality. Perhaps Wordsworth felt the common people weren't ethically responsible enough, and regardless for my admiration of the man's articulate defense of his beliefs, I can't help but find the undertones of his stance do be a dangerous precursor to the conundrum we find ourselves in today.

This is only a test...

Alright, so this is the English Literature Since 1800 blog, where I'll be talking about all kinds of dead (perhaps not?) white people and their goofy creativity. It's going to be a blast, I assure you.