Thursday, April 14, 2016

In these Bright Lights, can you feel our pain??


     You hear your name called, but you can’t bring yourself to step forward to the microphone. You’ve made it to the top three, but you have trouble understanding why you deserve to be there. Competing has never really been your “thing”; the idea of sacrificing someone else’s happiness for your own personal success is discomforting. But spelling means everything to you. You can’t imagine a time in your life that your mind, thoughts, and actions weren’t encompassed with words and language.

     You realize you’ve been stalling, and it’s your turn to spell. You step up and listen for the word. Axiom. You know the definition (a universally accepted rule or principle) but you ask for it anyways. Spellers almost always ask for the definition; it gives them a chance to think. You think to yourself how this itself is an axiom, and find that correlation amusing. Axiom. A-X-I-U-M. You know that doesn’t sound right. You take a prolonged breath, in, then out, and spell. A-X-I-O-M. Axiom. Through the fuzzy sound system of the auditorium, you hear the words “that is correct” and know you’re safe to sit back down.

     You return to your seat and realize you have time to think. You think about the competition, but it makes your palms sweat, which makes your heart race, so you begin to think about the nerves of the kids around you. The rest of the spellers choked. You and the two kids next to you are the best of the best. This concept is difficult to grasp. You contemplate why you deserve to be in the top three, ahead of them. You envision winning the whole bee, which makes you wonder why the two kids next to you shouldn’t win. The idea that they’ve worked as hard as you have and care just as much as you do makes you nervous. This thought just strengthens your dislike of competition, but you know you’re in too deep to turn back now. You think about how you’re the youngest one there. It’s your turn to spell again.

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

Materialism and Silly Parents in Persuasion

      It is no surprise that Jane Austen is known for her use of satire and ridicule to poke fun at the system of economics and social hierarchies throughout the 16th and 17th centuries. Austen’s novel, Persuasion, is a prime example of this use of satire, as she utilizes characters such as Sir Walter Elliot and his three daughters to represent everything she sees wrong with the elite class.

       A common theme in many of Austen’s books, like Persuasion, is her portrayal of many upper class families during this time as materialistic and self-absorbed in nature. I feel the Elliot family best represents this materialism, especially the father of the Elliots, as “Vanity was the beginning and the end of Sir Walter Elliot’s character; vanity of person and of situation” (Austen 4). Sir Walter is known for his extravagant spending, to the point that Lady Russell and Sir Walter’s lawyer felt it would be in his best interest to rent out his estate and move to Bath in order to regain the money he wasted during his frivolous spending. Elizabeth, the eldest of the Elliot girls, takes after her father in this materialism, as she tends to spend more time focusing on her good looks rather than an appealing personality. This materialism is most likely why “She had the consciousness of being nine-and-twenty to give her some regrets and some apprehensions; she was fully satisfied of being still quite as handsome as ever, but she felt her approach to the years of danger,” (Austen 8) and also why, although she is the eldest daughter, Elizabeth is still not married. Austen is using these characters to almost make a parody of the families she most likely saw and heard about in her own life, exaggerating their most negative attributes, and using those traits as satirical devices in her books.

      Another satirical element in Austen’s Persuasion is the portrayal of “silly parents” such as Sir Walter and Mary Elliot Musgrove. Sir Walter raised Mary and her sisters practically alone, and because of this fact, and his tendency to think only of himself, Sir Walter tended to spoil his children and have very little involvement in their lives. As this type of parenting was all Mary knew, she went on to be a poor parent herself, and the readers watch as Anne almost takes Mary’s place as a mother figure for her children. Trying to set an example for Mary and show her what it truly means to be a parent, Anne says, “‘. . . indeed, Mary, I cannot wonder at your husband. Nursing does not belong to a man; it is not his province. A sick child is always the mother’s property: her own feelings generally make it so” (Austen 67). However, despite Anne’s attempts, Mary has little desire to be involved in her children’s lives, as she herself is merely a child, being the youngest Elliot. Austen addresses this satirical element in a similar manner as stated before, portraying Mary in a way that makes it almost seem that she hates her children. Although this trait is of course exaggerated for an effect, Austen is attempting to make it clear that members of the elite class during this time period often tended to neglect their children for the sake of their own needs, thus raising children who will be as neglectful towards their own children, and the pattern will continue indefinitely.

      I believe that Austen’s intentions behind approaching the elite class members of society in a satirical way was to prevent not only this pattern, but many other endless cycles of poor behavior and faulted priorities being passed down from generation to generation.



Works Cited

Austen, Jane. Persuasion. New York City: Barnes & Noble Classics, 2005. Print.

Monday, January 11, 2016

Do we live in a world of Connies?


          A common theme throughout Joyce Carol Oates’s Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been is that things are not always as they appear to be on the surface. Joyce M. Wegs discusses this phenomenon, explaining how, within Oates’s use of a stereotypical, suburban town, “a familiar world suddenly appears alien” (Wegs 99). Connie comes from what would appear to be a nice, typical family. She lives in a town that, on the surface, is one just like any other in suburban America. However, the readers quickly learn that Connie’s life instead represents all that is gawky, shallow, and, arguably sinful, in our world. This grotesque depiction of the stereotypical, middle class, American lifestyle during this time gives Oates’s story its rightful classification as a horror-mystery.
          Connie’s character is a prime example of having multiple personas, as, “Everything about her had two sides to it, one for home and one for anywhere that was not home” (Oates 1). Connie’s main focus throughout the story is her appearance, making her a symbol for the all too common shallow teenager in our society. In fact, “much of the terror of the story comes from the recognition that there must be thousands of Connies” (Wegs 100). However, Connie, like much of the youth in America, comes from a family that does not necessarily approve of her rebellious and shallow lifestyle, so she puts on a separate persona in order to disguise her “true self” from her family. Oates plays this separate persona so strongly that, in fact, the reader begins to forget that Connie is merely fifteen, until her innocence is made apparent again in her most desperate time, as she’s meeting Arnold Friend.
          Arnold Friend is the most obvious example of having deceiving personas in this story. He appears to be a familiar face, so much that Connie “recognized all things about him” (Oates 5). However, the more the readers and Connie are both exposed to Friend, it is made clear that he is not familiar, but instead deceiving Connie in order to appeal to his grotesque needs. Oates seems to purposely make him a confusing and strangely intriguing character, as “she makes no… effort to explain the existence of Arnold” (Wegs 104). This character choice ensures that the readers are left as confused and helpless as Connie, waiting to see what Arnold Friend might say or do next. Because of this, the readers are equally surprised, and slightly horrified, when Connie realizes that Arnold “wasn’t a kid, he was much older” (Oates 5). Something about Friend no longer being someone familiar and relatable to Connie makes his character much more threatening. In that sense, his name itself is deceiving, as the readers begin to realize Arnold is anything but a friend to Connie.
          It’s arguable that Connie’s parents too put on separate personas, and are therefore equally to blame for the horrendous ending of Oates’s story. Oates makes it clear that, “Connie’s parents, who seem quite typical, have disqualified themselves as moral guides for her” when she expresses how little they are actually involved in Connie’s life (Wegs 100). However, it seems that Oates is trying to additionally add that the typical parents in this typical suburban lifestyle tend to have little true involvement in their children’s lives altogether. In fact, Connie’s friend June’s dad tended to drive the girls around and, “when he came to pick them up again at eleven he never bothered to ask what they had done” (Oates 1). I believe that this reoccurring expression of minor neglect from the children’s parents is just another criticism of the everyday lives we have all grown so accustomed to that we never think to question what we are doing wrong, until it is thrown in our faces in an act as strong the abduction of a fifteen year old girl.
          I believe that this lack of personal analysis as a society was one of the driving forces that pushed Oates to write this short story. Although it may appear as a mystery or horror piece, Oates makes multiple underlying critiques towards the lives that most of her readers probably know all too well. Oates makes the life of Connie and her friends and family very familiar, using pop culture references and explaining each aspect of Connie’s family and the town she lives in in order to make the readers feel a sense of comfort and relatability to the story. Oates then uses this comfort and completely turns the direction of the plot around, showing her readers what this type of shallow, ignorant, neglectful lifestyle can lead to, in a fairly grotesque way, leaving the readers questioning their own actions or, where they’re going in life, and where they have been.


Works Cited
Oates, Joyce Carol. “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?” New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2002. Print.

Wegs, Joyce M. “’Don’t You Know Who I Am?’: The Grotesque in Oate’s ‘Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?’” Journal of Narrative Technique 5, 1995. Print.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Cellar Door

     Nothing shouts postmodern like an indie, science fiction film about an angst ridden, slightly psychopathic teenage boy who’s followed around by a spooky guy in a rabbit suit. However, what strikes me as the kind of “narrative collapse’ that Rushkoff discusses in his novel, Present Shock, isn’t the obviously eccentric plot points that the movie Donnie Darko is so well known for, but instead the deeper messages that lie behind the film, and the ways in which the filmmakers chose to portray said messages.
     Although released in 2001, Donnie Darko takes place in 1988. One of the main premises of the movie is to poke fun at the “perfect” lifestyles of middle-class, suburban Americans, and the director most likely felt that the most appropriate time period to do so was in the 80s. However, the movie was not written, filmed, or created during this time, and the actors’ choices, along with the topics chosen by the writers, are therefore prime examples of presentism, a topic brought up by Rushkoff in his book, Present Shock. Leading into a new millennium, the late 90s and early 2000s were consumed heavily by science fiction, with ideas such as time travel and powerful external forces circling the minds of all of those who were waiting for the type of future they believed would come with the 21st century. Therefore, with “The Philosophy of Time Travel” being a common motif throughout the film, despite the desired time periodization, it is made clear that some ideas behind the making of the movie were influenced by presentism. When discussing this phenomena in Present Shock, Rushkoff states, “Our society has reoriented itself to the present moment… It’s more of a diminishment of anything that isn’t happening right now—and the onslaught of everything that supposedly is” (Rushkoff). Although the director maintains the feel of a 80s movie, using proper clothing choices and appropriate characterization, Donnie Darko still focuses on something that the creators felt was important and interesting in 2001.
     Donnie Darko also challenges the idea of a strictly linear narrative. There is no clear beginning to the story, as we are almost instantly introduced to the conflict, when an airplane engine falls on the roof of the Darko house. Viewers are left slightly confused, as it feels almost expected by the filmmakers that we already know who the Darkos are, considering there is no clear introduction to each of them or their lives in Middlesex, Virginia. It also feels as though we should just accept the fact that an airplane engine has fallen from the sky, and landed perfectly in Donnie’s bedroom. Viewers are therefore left confused, until the plot is explained further, and each piece slowly begins to fit into the puzzle, as the storyline gets more and more complex. Then, when you almost think the last two hours you’ve spent finally make sense, everything contradicts itself in the last five minutes of the movie. However, this type of scattered chronology is a prime example of a “narrative collapse” which makes us question everything believed to be key to traditional story making.
     Some may argue that challenging traditional narrative formats creates the risk of a confusing storyline. Although a valid concern, considering many feel Donnie Darko isn’t worth the blurred line between reality and hallucinations that is often crossed too leisurely throughout the film, writers shouldn’t just stop taking risks, as it is important to separate ourselves from past generations. “As Korzybski put it, we see further because we ‘stand on the shoulders’ of the previous generation. The danger of such a position is that we can forget to put our own feet on the ground” (Rushkoff). Although building upon an already solid foundation left over by previous writers and thinkers is a valid strategy, it’s also not a bad idea for new writers to take the risk of creating a new format that may better fit the message of their piece: hence, the influx of postmodernism.
     In conclusion, the film Donnie Darko is a prime example of ideas expressed in Rushkoff’s Present Shock, such as presentism and “narrative collapse”. Although seen as a postmodern, breakaway story from traditional narratives, Donnie Darko still expresses traits of a hero’s journey. Donnie is called to adventure by Frank the Rabbit, goes through multiple steps of a hero, and finally ends the movie, and his life, by sacrificing himself in the wormhole. Although Donnie goes back and forth between both the antagonist and protagonist, the overall message of needing a hero that is commonly prominent in stories is still fairly clear. However, in Donnie Darko, the hero isn’t necessarily a person, but one could argue that it is instead the sanity of Donnie himself.

         Works Cited:
Rushkoff, Douglass. Present Shock: When Everything Happens Now. New York: Penguin, 2013. Print.

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

But can you describe that Moveable Feast in immense detail?

     Ernest Hemingway is known for his arguably excessive use of details and descriptions in order to back up his points in writing. However, in his novel, A Moveable Feast, I feel this extent of detail was almost necessary in order to get across his desired points. Being a reoccurring element in Hemingway’s writing, it comes to no surprise he utilizes in-depth descriptions for topics as simple as his meal for the day. For example, Hemingway reminisces, “…I ate the oysters with their strong taste of the sea and their faint metallic taste that the cold white wine washed away, leaving only the sea taste and the succulent texture, and as I drank their cold liquid from each shell and washed it down with the crisp taste of the wine…” (Hemingway, a Moveable Feast). Such details also provide a fairly straight forward, relaxed nature to the book. Considering the premise of A Moveable Feast was to be a recollection of Hemingway’s “better years” in France throughout his 20’s, this kind of straightforwardness allows readers to feel closer to Hemingway as an individual, rather than just as a writer.
     Although it is implied that A Moveable Feast takes place during Hemingway’s early life, a clear statement is never made informing readers as to whether the book is fictional or nonfictional, and what time the stories occur. Therefore, readers are left to interpret each part of the novel in whatever way they feel fit. That being said, Hemingway’s use of details makes it fair to assume the stories he shares are at least memories of actual events that occurred, and would therefore take place around the early 1900s. This fact is important to keep in mind when reading A Moveable Feast, as he discusses taboo topics rather openly, which allows the readers to have an inside look into what social life was like in Europe nearly a century ago, as subjects such as homosexuality, adultery, and a use of drugs and alcohol are discussed fairly heavily throughout the novel. Hemingway’s honesty towards such behavior of even the most patronized artists and intellects allows readers to feel comfortable with the material he writes, and therefore allows the purpose of his documentation of his life to come out very clearly.
     The purpose of reading this novel in our AP Lang class was most likely to both further our abilities to analyze an author’s implied opinions and messages, and also to take note of how different styles used by different authors aid their writing in different ways. I believe Hemingway wrote A Moveable Feast with the intentions of warning younger people to not let the prime of their lives go to waste. Considering the darkness that Hemingway suffered with throughout the latter years of his life, it is relatively clear that he felt he took advantage of the opportunities and people that he was provided with in France. It, therefore, is not entirely surprising that, later in his life, Hemingway would decide to write a book about his favorite or most notable memories of his glory days in Paris: A Moveable Feast.

    Works Cited
Hemingway, Ernest. A Moveable Feast. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1964. Print.

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Narcissism in Today's Generation


           The American education system focuses heavily on how to prepare students with the academic skills they will need to pass college. However, what schools tend to neglect are the skills their students will need to survive in everyday life situations. In Neil Postman’s The End of Education: Redefining the Value of School, Postman discusses the tactics in our education system that he disagrees with, and suggests what he feels are better alternatives. One topic that is discussed by educators and intellectuals alike is whether school should be a place for strict textbook learning, or a place to adapt street smarts. Postman felt that school should equally be divided between the two, stating “What this means is that at its best, schooling can be about how to make a life, which is quite different from how to make a living.” (Postman, the End of Education).
            Although school is a place for learning skills such as math, science, and English, there becomes an age where children are in a need for learning how to interact with others, and communicate in an environment they may not be completely comfortable with. Without disregarding the importance of individual growth in a school setting, Postman writes, “… the idea of a school is that individuals must learn in a setting in which individual needs are subordinated to group interests… the classroom is intended to tame the ego, to connect the individual with others, to demonstrate the value and necessity of group cohesion.” (Postman, the End of Education). Without this kind of group exposure, people fall accustom to selfish thinking, and therefore a world of priorities that revolve almost solely around themselves. I am not attempting to make a large generalization that all adolescents are selfish individuals, but, according to the Association of Psychological Science, “College kids today are about 40 percent lower in empathy than their counterparts of 20 or 30 years ago” (Douthat, The Culture of Narcissism).
          Interestingly enough, Postman’s the End of Education was published around the time that said college students would most likely be first attending primary school. Although this may just be a coincidence, it is important to recognize that Postman practically called for this kind of self-absorbed public to be created in future generations. So the topic in question is how does one prevent this pattern from continuing? The first step is recognizing the cause. Schools now a days are guilty of handing out awards for simply showing up to an event. Therefore, students grow up with a sense of entitlement, and when they are placed into the workplace, they expect to be rewarded and praised for even the simplest of accomplishments.
          There is no denying that "Generation Y" is bringing innovations to the world greater than ever before imagined. However, the more an individual from this generation personally recognizes this fact, and the more that person will expect those around them to praise them for it, the less productive they will become, leaving themselves in an endless cycle of sugar-coated compliments. Constructive criticism is a vital aspect of learning, and, without it, society will cease to advance.

Works Cited:

Douthat, Ross. "The Culture of Narcissism." Ross Douthat The Culture of Narcissism Comments. The New York Times, 02 June 2010. Web. 30 Sept. 2015.
Postman, Neil. The End of Education: Redefining the Value of School. New York: Knopf, 1995. Print.

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

What if Darwin ate at the Restaurant at the End of the Universe?

*Huge spoiler alert: please don’t read this post if you have any interest in reading The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy because I completely give away the ending!!! Otherwise, carry on J

Although we already have a long list of great reads from Lang, I couldn’t help but write this post on a book from a different class. When thinking of philosophy and all of its complexity, one book from the summer reading list freshman year very clearly sticks out in my mind: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. For anyone who hasn’t read the book, Douglas Adams is fairly similar to Gaarden in that he makes the reader question the significance and purpose of their existence (except through aliens, not philosophy) in a fairly complicated way, making it rather difficult to give a proper summary of his book. However, for the purpose of this post, I will be focusing on the part of the story that revolves around Earth.
Near the very beginning of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Earth is destroyed in order to make space for a hyper-space express route, leaving only one human, Arthur Dent, to roam the universe. However, near the very end, Arthur discovers that Earth was created and controlled completely by mice. This concept somewhat reminds me of Darwin’s theory of “natural selection”.
Charles Darwin was an English naturalist who believed in the concept of evolution and “survival of the fittest”. Gaarden points out in his book, Sophie’s World, that Darwin “proposed that all existing vegetable and animal forms were descended from earlier, more primitive forms by way of a biological evolution” (Gaarden 405). Gaarden also states that “Darwin proved that mankind had developed from animals” (Gaarden 197). Therefore, at least according to Gaarden, Darwin felt that the only separating factor between humans and animals was a human’s abilities to evolve faster than most animals.
However, notice my choice in wording. Although, in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Adams claims both mice and dolphins are superior species in intelligence and universal understanding, he does not seem to portray any other animals in such a way. Therefore, it is interesting to consider what Darwin’s beliefs may have been on the matter. Perhaps Darwin, being the scientific, well-educated man that he was, would question what in evolution separates mice and dolphins from other animals in Adams’s opinion. However, it’s also very possible that the concept of talking mice would be too absurd for a man of Darwin’s status.
Either way, it is clear that Douglas Adams agreed with Darwin rather strongly in a sort of “eat or be eaten” outlook towards the universe. In Adams’s book, humans were far behind in regards to the understanding of anything other than their own planet, and were therefore no longer seen as important to the rest of the life forms in the universe. The concept of extra-terrestrial activity would perhaps be too hard for Darwin to comprehend, considering topics such as aliens and space travel were most likely not as common in the early 1800s. However, “in Darwin's time there were a number of observations and finds which were putting traditional beliefs to the test” (Gaarden 405), so he may have in fact appreciated a concept so new and advanced to completely appall the church with, and hopefully use to make further philosophical and scientific discoveries.
Whether Darwin ever imaged such a system of science fiction so far ahead of the 19th century as that going on in the head of Douglas Adams, their views on “natural selection” were noticeably similar, and the idea of one species completely dominating another in order to survive is prominent throughout the book The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and also throughout the teachings and views of naturalist Charles Darwin. 

Works Cited:
Gaarder, Jostein. Sophie's World. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1994. Print.