Saturday, March 28, 2009

Daffodils, Poetry, and "Two-Facedness"


"I did not know what these flowers were, and so it was a mystery to me why I wanted to kill them." --Lucy, page 29

In Lucy, Lucy remembers having to memorize a poem about daffodils when she was young and claims that her recital of it to "parents, teachers, and [her] fellow pupils" marked "the height of [her] two-facedness" (18). Years later, while walking with Mariah and encountering real daffodils for the first time in her life, Lucy asks, "Mariah, do you realize that at ten years of age I had to learn by heart a long poem about some flowers I would not see in real life until I was nineteen?" (30). It seems that the reference to Lucy's "two-facedness" arises from her acknowlegement that, at age 10, she saw herself as a bit of a hypocrite, passionately reciting a poem about something she had neither encountered nor truly understood. Perhaps this is why, when she finally sees the objects that she so wonderfully (and obliviously) described during her poetry recital as a child, she "want[ed] to kill them" (29). The dandelions represent not only the resentment she had for the British colonization of her home and the corresponding oppression it made her feel, but they also remind her of the "two-facedness" she felt after reciting the poem as a child.


In a way, I can relate to Lucy's feelings about the daffodils and the feelings that her memory of the poetry recital invoke. When I was in junior high, I had to memorize and recite "The Village Blacksmith" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow to my literature class (when Prof. Ambrose asked us in class on Thursday if we ever had to memorize a poem for school, I mistakenly said I had to recite a Robert Frost poem...I didn't realize my mistake until I "googled" some of the lines of the poem that I could remember...I apologize for the error). Like Lucy, when I had to recite the poem when I was young, I had no idea what the words of the poem really meant. I wasn't as worried about the meaning of what I was saying as I was about stumbling over words like "sinewy" and having to say the word "sexton" in front of my just-entering-puberty 7th grade peers. However, when I read the poem today after googling it (admittedly, the first time I have done so since that horrid 7th grade experience), I do feel like my recital of it in junior high (complete, like Lucy's, with "special emphasis in places where that was needed" [18]...I did get an 'A' after all) was a bit hypocritical. Now when I read the poem, I am reminded so much of my dad and how hard he has worked a blue-collar job all his life to provide for our family, something that I perhaps took a little for granted when I was younger. In a way, I am a little angry at my junior high self for not taking the time to grasp the meaning of the words I was saying...back then, all I cared about was getting a good grade.


Can you relate at all to the resentment that Lucy feels upon seeing the daffodils? Is there any specific place or object that makes you feel a certain way because it reminds you of something from your past? Do you think that Lucy's admission of being "two-faced" is accurate, or do you think that her recital of the poem without understanding its meaning was just an instance of childhood naivete?

Thursday, March 19, 2009

A "Pilgrimage" Story?

I think that Jhumpa Lahiri’s short story, "This Blessed House," is a pilgrimage tale, but perhaps not in the traditional sense of the word. Twinkle does indeed seem to be on a journey in search of great moral significance, but I don't think that is it necessarily the religious qualities of the relics she finds that she is interested in. According to the Wikipedia article about pilgrimage, "Christian pilgrimage was first made to sites connected with the birth, life, crucifixion, and resurrection of Jesus." In a sense, I feel that Twinkle's "pilgrimage" is a journey/attempt to "resurrect" her marriage. It does not seem as if Twinkle is looking for religious answers in her obsession with the search for Christian relics, as she clearly states to her husband that "[they] are good little Hindus" (137). Rather than religious ideas, the objects that Twinkle finds represent hope, beauty, and optimism for the future: when Sanjeev notices the Ten Commandments dishtowel that she finds, Twinkle tells him to "[f]ace it. This house is blessed" (144). In a way, there is a parallel between the condition of their house and the condition of their marriage; both may need "to be dusted" (137) in some spots, but if Sanjeev and Twinkle work/search hard enough, "God only knows what... [they'll] find" (153). The house (and marriage) contain all kinds of hidden treasures. When Twinkle asks Sanjeev if he thinks "the previous owners were born-agains," it is almost as if she is asking him if he thinks they too can be "reborn" in their love for one another (137). In some ways, this "pilgrimage" does lead to great discovery: at the end of the story, Twinkle's discovery of the solid silver bust of Christ leads Sanjeev to have an epiphany of sorts. When he sees that the bust "contain[s] dignity, solemnity, beauty even," he discovers that "to his surprise these qualities [make] him hate it all the more" (157). Perhaps this is suggesting that Sanjeev has finally discovered the "dignity, solemnity, [and] beauty" in Twinkle as well as the silver bust she found, and he realizes that he does not (and perhaps cannot) appreciate these qualities. To summarize, the real "pilgrimage"--the real journey--of the story is the search for true beauty, which is discovered at the end. Twinkle seems to appreciate this beauty, while Sanjeev comes to hate it.

Perhaps I am over-reading the text, but this is just one way in which I think the story can be interpreted as a "pilgrimage tale." I'm sure there are other interpretations out there, as well as counterarguments to my own interpretation, and I would love to hear them; please share. :-)

In closing, I would like to leave you with a brief clip from another "pilgrimage story." I know it would be wrong of me to post a youtube video without tying it into the text we are studying in some way, so I'll do my best. I've posted the similarities I see below the video. This is one of my favorite scenes from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, a "pilgrimage tale" about King Arthur's quest for the Holy Grail. Enjoy!!


Ties to "This Blessed House:"
  1. King Arthur is on a pilgrimage, and as I've discussed above, I see This Blessed House as a "pilgrimage tale."
  2. King Arthur is in search of the grail, a holy relic, and Twinkle is in search of Christian objects--these are both religiously affiliated.
  3. King Arthur tries to recruit the Black Knight to join his search. Twinkle sort of recruits the guest at her party to join her search: "the whole party joined forces and began combing through each of the rooms" (153).
  4. The Black Knight reminds me a lot of Sanjeev. He tries to block King Arthur from continuing on his quest, much like Sanjeev discourages Twinkle's search for and display of Christian relics; he refuses King Arthur's offer to join the quest, and Sanjeev "had no desire to join" Twinkle's group in searching for objects; the Black Knight says "I move for no man," which is similar to Sanjeev's stubborn and superior attitude throughout the story; and finally (and this one's a streeeeeeetch), all that remains of the Black Knight after his encounter with King Arthur is his torso, sort of like the silver bust of Christ that Twinkle brings down from the attic (teeheehahaha).

Sunday, March 15, 2009

I was reminded of something we talked about in class while I was travelling back from Georgia after spending the duration of my spring break there with my fiance, Andy. Before break, we spent a good portion of one of our classes discussing the concept of "displacement" and what it means. When I looked back at some of the definitions we came up with during my THIRTEEN HOUR DRIVE BACK to good 'ole Indiana (yes, I took my HUST notes with me so I could study for the midterm...I know, I'm a nerd), I realized that I had experienced, witnessed, or talked about several of them over the course of my time in Georgia. I think the most efficient way for me to explain/demonstrate this is through some type of bullet list, so here we go. I've listed some of the definitions we came up with in class in red and followed them with the way in which I encountered that definition in blue (color coding that's both efficient AND patriotic...I know, I know, even I am impressed at my ingenuity sometimes):

  • Being away from home : When I was in Georgia, I was away from my geographic home of Indiana. I have only been to Andy's apartment in Georgia one other time, and I definitely felt a little out of place in the area because it was still pretty unfamiliar. I didn't know what streets led to where, where the nearest grocery/convenient stores were, or how to navigate the area; it was definitely an unsettling feeling.
  • Lonely : Okay, so saying I felt "lonely" sounds like a major bash to my fiance. I was never lonely while I was with him, but there were a few times when he had to report to base for work (he's a 2nd LT in the army), and without him around, I definitely felt a little lonely, especially since I was in an unfamiliar setting. This kind of makes me think that displacement can be both a physical AND emotional sensation, and that feeling "displaced" in one of these areas has a direct effect on the feeling of "displacement" in the other. My emotional sense of displacement was exacerbated by my physical one.
  • Forced to leave; unsafe : Ok, so I was not FORCED to go to Georgia and I certainly wasn't "unsafe" there, but I did encounter this definition through a conversation with Andy, who had just finished Ranger School (I was there for his graduation). For those unfamiliar with the Army, I'll give a very brief, layman's definition of Ranger School: two months of hellish survivor training in which the participants are deprived of food, sleep, and any communication with the "outside" world apart from letters. So, when Andy was roughing it out in the mountains in -18 degree wind chills, tired and hungry, I would definitely qualify him as being "unsafe." He told me that he has never been that cold in his life and that there was actually a point during which he felt like he was actually going to die. I am definitely glad I only had to hear about this type of "displacement" rather than experience it for myself.
  • A break in routine : Ok, so this was a BIG one for me. Usually, my routine is what keeps me sane throughout the day (I'm kind of anal), and when it's broken, I feel like everything is just crashing down on me. When I went to Georgia, everything about my routine changed: when, where, and how I worked out; when and what I ate; how I spent my free time; etc. This also ties in to another definition our class came up with: feeling out of sorts, which happened to me when my routine got messed up.

I have already probably surpassed my ramble quota in this blog, but I want to do a quick follow-up on these definitions of "displacement" that I encountered on my trip by answering a question that was posed to us in class and using the answer to that question to tie into something that Scott Russel Sanders said in his essay, "Writing from the Center." The question posed in class regarding displacement was "Can it be temporary?" My experience in Georgia proved to me that it can. Although there were times that I felt a "break" in my routine, "out of sorts," "lonely," and "away from home"--in other words, that I felt "displaced"--there were also times that I felt just as safe and as firmly in place in Georgia as I do when I am at Saint Mary's or at my actual home with my family. When I was spending time with Andy watching movies, laughing, or just hanging out, or when I was writing poetry (something I enjoy doing), I felt totally at ease. This proves that the feeling of displacement--whether emotional or physical--can be overcome. In "Writing from the Center," Sanders tells us that "[n]o matter where we live, the energy of creation flows in each of us, every second" (162) and that"we already dwell in the place worth seeking" (164). This implies that if we do lose ourselves--if we do find ourselves suddenly "displaced"--we can overcome that condition by tapping into "the energy of creation" that dwells within us and using it to discover the things that make us personally feel most firmly in place.

Saturday, February 28, 2009

Why Julia Stiles?

While I was perusing some of our classmates' blogs, I noticed that Casey inlcuded a clip from 10 Things I Hate About You, an adaptation of Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew starring Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles. You can check out both the clip and Casey's thoughts about it on her blog at http://caseyslivesandtimes.blogspot.com/.

Of course, I'm not simply blogging to rave about Casey's blog (which I quite enjoyed by the way). Watching the clip from 10 Things I Hate About You called to my attention that Julia Stiles has been in several movie adaptations of Shakespeare's plays. This got me thinking about the casting choices for O. Was Julia Stiles chosen simply because she has a history of acting in Shakespeare adaptations? What makes her so suited for those roles? Obviously, she plays the leading lady in O as Desi, an adaptation of Desdemona; Casey points out that she also plays the leading lady in 10 Things I Hate About You as Katrina; and check out this clip of her as Ophelia (with Ethan Hawke as Hamlet) in the 2000 movie adaptation of Hamlet:



I wonder if Julia Stiles was chosen for her roles in O and Hamlet because directors believed she performed well in her first role in a Shakespeare adaptation as Kat in 10 Things I Hate About You, or if directors simply see something "Shakespearean" in her as an actress. All three of these movies came out in a relatively short time frame: 10 Things I Hate About You in 1999, Hamlet in 2000, and O in 2001; however, they all had different directors: Gil Junger (10 Things I Hate About You), Michael Almereyda (Hamlet), and Martin Scorsese (O). Why do you think Julia Stiles was cast as the leading lady for all three?

Of course I want to hear what all of you think, but this wouldn't be a true "Sam-style" blog post if I didn't elaborate on my own opinion a bit. First of all, I should probably admit off the bat that anything I say is bound to be a tad bit biased because I love Julia Stiles as an actress, and thus believe she is pretty magnificent in ANY role she plays. However, I think she is particularly suited for Shakespeare adaptations due to both her physical appearance and her acting abilities. First of all, I think (and this is personal opinion) that Julia Stiles has kind of an innocent and unique look. The innocence suits Shakespeare roles very well, as he tends to often paint the women in his plays as victims. The unique quality (which I can't quite put my finger on, but I think it is something about her eyes, perhaps) also suits Shakespeare roles, as his plays usually involve manipulation, and the uniqueness of Stiles's look adds a sense of mystery to her character. As far as her acting ability goes, she is amazing in dramatic situations. Scenes that involve her crying or in a frantic state do not come off as forced, fake or overly dramatic (see the above clip as well as the clip on Casey's blog for two examples). I think these qualitites made her the perfect casting choice for Desde in O. What does everyone else think?

Sunday, February 22, 2009

2 Two-Faced Iagos

Okay, so call me immature, but the first thing I thought of when I started reading Othello and saw that the name of the villain was Iago was my all-time favorite Disney character--the parrot in the movie Aladdin (yes, the one with the annoying voice). By the way, Aladdin is undoubtedly THE greatest Disney movie of all time, and if any of you dare to challenge me on that, I am more than open to the idea of starting a blog war regarding Disney movies.

ANYWAY, back to the point of my blog (yes, it does have a point!!). I find a lot of similarities between the Iago in Othello and the one in Aladdin (okay, yes, one is kind of a bird, but trust me, there ARE similarities). I think the easiest way to point these out to everyone is to show you a clip of what is probably my favorite scene from the movie and then to list the similarities I see between our Iagos. So here it is, enjoy!!





Similarities I see:

(1) We will begin with the obvious. They are both named Iago. Quite insightful, I know.


(2) They are both villains (another brilliant deduction).


(3) Note Iago's (cartoon version) ability to imitate Princess Jasmine in the clip. It's uncanny. This reminds me of how Iago in
Othello is able to trick everyone around him into believing that he is someone that he's not (i.e. Othello says "Iago is most honest" [2.3.7]).

(4) Iago (cartoon version again) says "And to think we gotta keep kissing up to that chump and his chump daughter." This is similar to how the Iago in Othello seems to always be kissing up to pretty much everybody in the play, including Brabantio.


(5) Cartoon Iago devises an evil plot to take over a position of power when he suggests to Jafar that he marry Princess Jasmine and become Sultan. This is kind of similar to
Othello's Iago devising a plan to overthrow Othello because he is upset that he did not get the promotion to lieutenant (even though we are never technically very clear on Iago's true motivations).

(6) Cartoon Iago has persuasive powers that are demonstrated when he talks Jafar into his plan. These powers are mirrored in
Othello's Iago's ability to convince multiple characters to take part in his plan (for example, when he convinces Roderigo that he is the perfect candidate for “knocking out [Cassio’s] brains” [4.2.229]).

(7) Cartoon Iago's plan involves murder. 'Nuff said.


I also want to point out that the end of this scene is utterly hilarious, as it ends with Jafar and Iago cackling evilly back and forth. This has absolutely no relevance, but I can't help laughing hysterically every time I watch it.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Displacement: Applying a Physics Perspective to a Literary Concept

You guys are going to have to forgive me: I may be an English Writing Major, but I am also a Chem/Math double minor, so I do have a tendency to sometimes think about abstract or literary concepts in a "scientific" manner. When we started our brainstorming of the term "displacement" in class on Thursday, the scientist in me immediately jumped to the physics definition, which refers to "how far out of place an object is." I know, I know, you are probably all uttering something along the lines of "ummm...duh?!" I realize this definition of the word is pretty much explicitly implied in the word itself: DIS-PLACE-ment; but I think there is more to the definition than what appears on the surface. I started explaining my interpretation in class as taking this to mean a kind of journey, as in how one might actually get from her starting point to her destination. After class, I realized that I had the concepts of "displacement" and "distance" flip-flopped (thank God I decided to go with the English thing, right?), and the difference between the two in physics is actually what allows the scientific definition to be applied for our purposes. So, for a clarification, check out

http://www.glenbrook.k12.il.us/GBSSCI/PHYS/CLASS/1DKin/U1L1c.html.

This is a groovy little tutorial that does a really good job explaining the difference between "distance" and "displacement." And NOW, for my probably over-reaching and annoyingly lengthy interpretation:

I think it's important to note that
distance refers to "how much ground an object has covered," whereas displacement refers to where the object actually is in relation to where it began. So, technically, an object (or a person, for our purposes) may travel a great distance, undergo a long, hard, and complex journey, and still find itself right back where it started. I like this idea of displacement being independent of a person's ventures in life. It suggests that we can make mistakes and have regrets but still ultimately have a sense of and be able to return to where we started and where we belong. The only way we can truly be "displaced" is if we venture out, lose our way, and don't find a path that takes us back to where we started; in essence, if we "lose ourselves completely." Also, the website says that displacement is "the object's overall change in position," which we can apply in both a literal and figurative sense. A person may find herself diplaced if her physical location changes, but also if her political, religous, or any other personal belief ("position") changes. For example, I believe that Othello finds himself "diplaced" when his position regarding human nature changes. Iago originally portrays Othello to be of a generally optimistic and trusting nature, saying that "[t]he Moor is of a free and open, nature,/That thinks men honest that but seem to be so" (lines 382-83). Iago then notes a change (a "displacement") in Othello after he as planted the seed of jealousy in his mind: "The Moor already changes with my posion" (line 342). Invoking the physics definition, we interpret Othello's "position" regarding human nature to have undergone an "overall change," i.e., jealously has caused him to lose his generally trusting nature, and we thus consider him "displaced."

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Girl, Interrupted: A "Christian" Perspective

I have my own opinions and reactions to the film Girl, Interrupted, which I could easily share here, but I feel as if I have done a sufficient job in shoving my opinion down everyone’s throats in my last few blog entries. Thus, I set out on a quest to find another individual’s response to the film, preferably one which looked at it from an angle or perspective which I had not considered. Low and behold, thanks to my amazing Googling abilities, it took little effort on my part to find what I was looking for…

Now, I realize that just because we happen to attend a Catholic University, not everyone here is Catholic or Christian. However, I think that a review of the film from a Christian perspective may serve as interesting for members of any religion. So here it is: http://www.christiananswers.net/spotlight/movies/2000/girlinterrupted.html.

This article reviews Girl, Interrupted from a Christian perspective. In it, the reviewer, Bob MacLean, comments on how the movie does (and does not) uphold Christian beliefs and values. He makes a lot of bold arguments and often calls the film “offensive,” referencing the profanity, sexual content, frequent drug usage, and the suicide scene. True, from a Christian viewpoint (and probably from a lot of non-Christian viewpoints as well), these things are surely considered “offensive,” but wasn’t that the point? By being “offensive,” didn’t these scenes effectively convey the intensity and difficulty involved in trying to recover from a mental illness?

One of MacLean’s major criticisms of the film, which I believe makes some unfair assumptions, is this:

“Since Susanna is not a Christian, she cannot, and the film does not, offer any real answers to some very important questions. Rather [it] raises the human spirit up as the answer to our problems. I find this solution curious. If we had such great spirit, why do we repeatedly put ourselves into these terrible situations?”

MacLean implies that the only way to recover from a mental illness is through religion, and that “the human spirit” alone is not strong enough to overcome the struggles associated with such disorders. So, according to MacLean, are we to assume that there is no hope for non-Christians who suffer from mental illnesses? If this is the case, then why have so many antidepressant medications been developed by researchers, approved by the FDA, prescribed by doctors, and taken by patients suffering from depression? Would people really be taking them if they were ineffective? Also, in his final question, MacLean basically assumes that those suffering from mental illnesses inflicted the condition upon themselves. To ask “why we repeatedly put ourselves into these terrible situations?” is basically an attack on the identity of mental illnesses as medical conditions. Would you ask a diabetic why he gave himself diabetes? Would you ask a brain cancer patient what she was thinking when she put a tumor in her head? MacLean does admit that “the movie forces one to understand the horror of having to deal with mental illness and does not glamorize being insane,” but then goes on to say that “God knows and deals with the deepest horrors we visit upon one another and forgives us,” which again implies that mental illness is caused by human behavior and something that needs to be “forgiven.” True, perhaps by “the deepest horrors we visit upon one another,” MacLean may be referring to the cruel ways some of the women in the film treated one another, but couldn’t that behavior also be considered a symptom of the mental illnesses they were suffering from?

Do you think that mental illness is an issue that needs to be treated from a religious standpoint, a medical standpoint, or a combination of the two?