So not really a read-along, was it? Well, this is all about discovering what works, and I can rule out read-alongs…for now.

I read Through a Glass Darkly, and my one word conclusion is that it was  entertaining. At first, I was very excited because Koen really starts out with some great historically accurate details woven into the story (socks embroidered with clocks). But that element seems to get overtaken by the soap opera of the story, and as a reader I was left with a thoroughly predictable “plot twist” and a heroine (Barbara Montgeoffry, the Countess Devane) that I think I was supposed to admire, but I just felt she was spoiled and thoroughly unremarkable. Apparently, I would not have fit in with Barbara’s society – people who were all essentially rendered helpless and inadequate by her stunning beauty and uniquely remarkable character. Additionally, I felt that there was some homophobia threaded through the novel, and that really soured my experience. Regardless of what the social views on homosexuality were in the eighteenth century, phrases such as “effeminate monstrosity” peppered the novel with a seemingly anchor-less context and ruined my ability to be entertained.

And amidst all that, I started reading the sequel to Through a Glass Darkly in the hopes that maybe some improvements had been made in the portrayal of Barbara and the predictable plot lines. Unfortunately, I was unable to really get past the fifth chapter…I found Barbara, Countess Devane (or the  “fragile black butterfly” as she is known at her plantation in Virginia) to be even more grating and tedious in her new surroundings than she was in London. Maybe someday I will pick up Now Face to Face again and give it a second shot, but for now, it acts as a paperweight on my bedside table.

Right now I am reading The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. I know the outline of the story, but I have never read it. (For those of you who have read it, go ahead and laugh when I say now that I think Lord Henry Wotton may be the Devil that tempts young Mr. Gray out of his soul.)

Two versions of Dorian.

Oh, and the unexpected turn of events? I haven’t really felt like reading lately. I think it is because I am preoccupied by the fact that my life is dominated by waiting – waiting to hear about grad school, waiting to hear about jobs, waiting to hear about graduation. One would think that reading would be a much needed respite from it all, but apparently, I can’t concentrate when there isn’t “A PLAN.” Huh…

There is a distinct irony inherent in the power of the Party’s control in Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four. The crux of their power lies in the naiveté of the general public: their willingness to believe uncritically what is told to them, a willingness born of fear, and yet the execution of the Party’s power relies heavily on the sharp minds of the very public that Big Brother is trying to control. For instance, the act of writing is not allowed. Recording events, like keeping a diary (or writing a blog), is not “illegal” in the technical sense of the word, but could result in death or imprisonment, so any attempts to “communicate with the future” are highly risky to say the least. And yet it is Winston’s job to communicate and craft a reality for the future that is in compliance with the Party’s doctrines. The difference is that the diary promotes individual thought and subjective, uncontrolled reality, while the other is a highly crafted conformist reality. The thing is, Winston could do neither of these acts without an element of creativity and free thought. The very seed of individualism and creativity that leads Winston on his journey with the diary is the very thing that he draws upon when he fabricates fictionalized realities like that of Comrade Ogilvy.

Additionally, the double standard of control and reliance is seen with the character of Syme. Winston knows with certainty that one day Syme will be vaporized because he lacked “a sort of saving stupidity.” Unfortunately for Syme, the very thing that makes him so good at his job of language de-creation, if you will, is the thing that will get him killed in the end. Syme’s analytical and philosophical grasp of Newspeak with the implications and possibilities inherent in its execution provide Syme with an artistic reverence toward his job. While he crafts the language into simplicity, his knowledge of what he does ensures a finely crafted framework for future expressions of reality; this is exactly what Big Brother would like. And yet this insight is dangerous in one person, and so Syme’s insight and linguistic artisanship solidifies his fate.

In the world of Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four, the characteristics that ensure a functioning role in society are also the ones that the Party seeks to suppress. There is a contrary nature in the reality of the novel; “even to understand the word DoubleThink involved the use of DoubleThink” and so there exists a simultaneous suppression and  reliance on the individual members of the society to be able to access the very abilities and thought processes that they are told to control.

1984 Pulp Cover 1984 Shepard Fairey cover

The Anxious Comedy

8 July 2009

In Patrician Authority and Instability in ‘The Way of the World,’ Kevin Gardner asserts that the suppression of emotion, the mastering of presentation, and the embracing of a more legal approach to problem solving are the characteristics of the way of the new world. Gardner explores how these traits are related to the transitioning modes of authority in Stuart Britain, and exposes the social anxieties present in Congreve’s characters, that resulted from such changes to the structure of social power.

The shift from feudalism to capitalism brought with it a different standard for determining social decency and decorum. The traditional controlling powers- the patricians- are of an era that determined conflicts with swords, and relied heavily on emotional release in matters of social communication. Gardner points out that the changing economic landscape was uprooting the outdated modes of social propriety, and an emotional reserve was becoming more and more favored as the proper way to conduct oneself in society. Additionally, the vestigous  practice of settling disagreements with force, athleticism and swords was changing, it was coming to be seen as a brutish practice that was fitting only for the lower class.

A reaction against these new social orders was the obsession over natural demeanor. In order to maintain social authority, those in the upper class focused on being able to decipher, through one’s physical actions, whether or not an individual was born of grace. The feeling was that the more natural seeming the rehearsed and choreographed movements of the body were, the more deserving of the aristocracy was the person. The fascination and importance put on this practice had two results, the first of which was that any member of the upper class who could not master their own movements- those who seemed as if they were adopting affectations- were ostracized and rejected from the very network they were attempting to save. The second result  of this practice, was that anyone could adopt the mannerisms of the upper class, provided they were skilled at the “natural” presentation.

Gardner uses these social shifts of power to examine the characters in The Way of the World, and in doing so he exposes the anxieties behind their actions and the comedic elements of the play itself. Lady Wishfort becomes a sad product of a society whose rules have far surpassed her, and Mirabell stands as one who has mastered both the new way of propriety and the outdated way, utilizing both modes to assert his own authority. Mirabell is the model of the new cultural codes.

I found Gardner’s article to be very enlightening and approachable. Logistically, I found the presentation of his material to be done in a way so the reader could easily follow the structure of his argument, allowing more opportunities for the reader to associate with, and process the material and assertions made. I find the double ironies of the character’s usage of social rules to be fascinating. Mirabell must maintain the new codes of suppression and self-regulation in order to successfully pull off a subversive plan. These elements are all newer modes of conducting oneself, but their goal is to attain inheritance and a title: both very traditional modes of power.

Another irony that I observed relates to both the patrician mode of power, and the newer, patriarchal mode of power. Gardner writes that the patrician modes of power became based on a heavy reliance on the mechanization of one’s body and movements, as a presentation of “natural” civilization. Whether this development happened as a reaction to, or in tandem with, the threat to the patrician modes of power is unclear to me. However, it is highly interesting to me that the newer, more patriarchal mode of power, based on suppression of emotions and self-restraint, is also inherently dependent upon a mechanistic approach to one’s self- in this case, their inner self- in order to assert power and expose imposters. Both modes of authority are born from similar instincts: to use control and mechanization as a form of self preservation and survival.

Gardner’s approach to Congreve’s The Way of the World has enhanced my perspective of the comedy of manners, save for one element. Gardner points to Lady Wishfort’s anxieties over her loss of sexual and social authority as the driving force of the comedic factor in the play. I would say that Witwoud is also a heavy comedic force, but his force is also born out of misfortune for he, like the Lady, has been unable to decode the social language that solidifies one’s acceptance. In this light, the humor of the play has been taken out of it, and the sadness of the characters shadows over the ‘fun’ element of the play. As a reader, I have a harder time reading the piece as a satire of social mannerisms, it becomes more of a serious reflection on the “way of the world.”

Reader, I Read Her

29 June 2009

I recently finished reading Jane Eyre- a book that has been on my radar for some time now. Jane Eyre is one of those books that everyone has heard of, and when you publicly admit that you haven’t read it, there is inevitably one or two people who will look at you with disbelief. (Whether or not they themselves have actually read it is another matter. One can just as easily recite the events in the novel after watching one of the many small and large screen adaptations of it.) I chose to read it because a friend of mine was reading it and I already owned it- I could read it with her and broaden my horizons at the same time.

My reasons for reading the novel are completely irrelevant.

Two things struck me as I was reading Jane Eyre. One: that Rochester is an ass that enjoys “testing” Jane for his own self-serving sport, and Two: that Bertha, although she is a very real threat when we are introduced to her, was basically shut up and neglected for a decade. That does stuff to people. No wonder this woman wants to attack anyone who comes too close. Jane describes her as a wild animal, a “clothed hyena,” with “shaggy locks” that “snatched and growled.” (380) But Jane is not quite right, is she? Bertha may be frenzied at that moment, but she is no uncontrolled wild animal. This woman has the wherewithal to wait until her nurse has passed out to steal the door key. Admittedly, this is not the best argument for Bertha’s stealth, since Grace Pool is drunk off her rocker whenever she passes out, but there is more, I promise. Bertha can sneak through the house, watch Jane sleep, sneak up and down the halls doing who knows what, light her husband’s bed on fire, and then return upstairs to her bedchamber. Willingly. From what I understand, when a cage door is left open, the animal inside runs free.  Bertha was not a hyena, she was a woman who was scorned by her family, pawned off onto a virtual stranger, and locked into an attic when she became too difficult to deal with.

I understand that the cultural understanding of mental illness in the 1840’s was vastly different than our understanding of it in today’s society. However, given Rochester’s propensity for toying with Jane (Forcing her to sit in the parlor every night with company, posing as the gypsy woman to get Jane to confess her emotions to him, letting her believe that he is to marry Miss Ingram…) I think that he locked his first wife up in the attic because he just flat out didn’t want to extend any compassion or patience to a person in need. Rochester’s games with Jane were all about control, and he couldn’t control Bertha. Of course, his tune changes in the end, when it is he that is in need of some patience and compassion, when he can no longer control those around him…when he has been humbled. I don’t hate Rochester. He is human, and the journey that his character takes is fascinating, but I just can’t help feeling that Bertha deserved more: more from her family, more from Rochester, and more from Brontë.