Thursday, October 29, 2015

The Perception of the Arab in The Stranger

In The Stranger by Albert Camus, several passages reflect a racist attitude toward the native Algerians by the French colonialists. This first appears early in the novel, when Raymond beats his “Moorish” girlfriend with impunity, knowing that if someone will testify that she cheated on him he will face no charges (p.35-37). Not only does the law disregard his crime, but the white people living around him also display a similar lack of concern about the savage beating. Meursalt’s girlfriend Marie, who may even be Arab herself, is initially disturbed, but she quickly forgets about the incident.
            The most important Arab character of the novel is the victim of Meursalt’s senseless murder on the beach. Despite his extreme importance to the story, he is never even named. Similarly, Raymond’s girlfriend is not named. Their identity is solely defined by their race. This shows Meursalt’s racism, because he clearly knows the names of both characters but chooses not to use them.
            While Meursalt is arrested and convicted for the murder of an Arab man, the bulk of his trial is spent not discussing the murder itself, but Meursalt’s character. It quickly becomes clear that Meursalt had no real motive for the murder. At this point, Meursalt is no longer actually on trial for killing an Arab man, but instead for being a morally reprehensible individual whose unfeeling nature (particularly evident at his mother’s funeral) deeply offends the established French culture. The actual crime—the loss of an Arab life—quickly becomes insignificant. I sure this would not be the case had Meursalt killed a white Frenchman.
            Mr. Mitchell mentioned a recent book by Kamel Daoud, an Algerian writer, who retells The Stranger from the perspective of the brother of the murdered Arab. Go here for a great interview with the author:

http://www.npr.org/2015/06/23/416828000/algerian-writer-kamel-daoud-stands-camus-the-stranger-on-its-head

This new novel seems to be the perfect antidote to the dehumanization of the Arab in The Stranger.
           



Wednesday, October 14, 2015

The Metamorphosis of the Samsa Family


When Gregor Samsa wakes up one morning to find himself transformed into a verminous bug, his family members initially react with shock and horror. But as the novella progresses, Gregor’s “metamorphosis” begins to transform his family as well as they adjust to life with a giant bug. Gregor previously was responsible for providing a source of income for his family. Since he obviously cannot work as a bug, the family adapts, and in a sense I believe his absence eventually transforms each family member into a more complete human being. Meanwhile, Gregor has transformed from provider to pariah.
            I did not find Gregor’s father to be a particularly likeable character. While Gregor is a human, he is the chief provider for his family. His father takes advantage of this and does not work, sitting around the house all day. But when Gregor transforms, his father must also transform.  Faced with no other choice, he goes back to work. Gregor notices a marked change in his father soon after his transformation, as his father begins wearing a suit and in general behaving with more energy than before. But his father is cruel to Gregor, wounding him and not acknowledging that he is his son.
            Gregor’s mother is less defined and therefore her transformation is less distinct, but I would argue that the shock of Gregor’s transformation causes an emotional shutdown for his mother that begins after her collapse and subsequent terror upon seeing him for the first time on that fateful morning (p. 74 and 77).  We know that Gregor loved his mother (“that gentle voice,” p.68) and he looks at her several times in the course of the novel, only to see her fatigued or even, in the last look before his death, asleep. She tries to clean his room once, but this only causes Grete to scold her.  She frets about the lodgers and worries about Grete and her husband, but she has ceased to react emotionally to her son.  After a while, it is as if he is already dead to her and she is in mourning and depressed.
            Gregor’s sister, Grete, is the kindest to Gregor at the beginning of the story. Early in the book, Gregor talks about his love for Grete and how he has been secretly saving for her to attend the conservatory.  Grete shows her love, too by taking care of him, bringing food and water, cleaning the room, etc.  But after she gets a job, she grows tired of it.  As she becomes more independent, she resents Gregor’s presence more and as the novel progresses, Grete’s disgust for Gregor grows. By the end of the novel, Grete advocates “getting rid of” Gregor (page 104).
            At the end of the novel, Gregor dies and there is closure and relief for all of them. The family instantly feels as if a great weight has been lifted from them.  But they have changed.  They are all more fully aware of who they are and what they can (and must) do in the world.  They take the day off and go out on a family excursion, and their future seems limitless.  Are they unfeeling?  Have they forgotten Gregor?  No, but each of them has become something they were not while Gregor lived—either as son and provider or as bug in the bedroom.  They have been transformed and life will go on, perhaps better than before Gregor’s transformation. 
           

Thursday, October 1, 2015

The "Modern" Woman of the 1920s

Lady Brett Ashley from The Sun Also Rises and Daisy Buchanan from F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby are both tragic and flawed women of the 1920s. The Great Gatsby was published in 1925, and The Sun Also Rises was published shortly after in 1926. I do not think that Fitzgerald influenced Hemingway, but that both authors were depicting a lifestyle they  saw among wealthy women living at the time in the new “flapper” culture.  Daisy and Brett also seem to be examples of a new expression of feminism in the 1920s.
            Both Brett and Daisy are unable to love in a genuine fashion. This has an effect on the men they are involved with—Robert Cohn describes Brett as “Circe, because she turns men to swine.” Brett moves from lover to lover, never having any meaningful connection. Throughout the novel, she also maintains a tragic love relationship with Jake, who sometimes seems to serve as an enabler for her behavior. Jake is impotent in more ways than one, unable to give Brett physical love or the loving stability of friendship.  He is impassive when Cohn goes off with her and even seems to set her up with Romero the bullfighter. Daisy Buchanan displays similarly problematic traits, flirting with her cousin Nick, in love with Jay Gatsby, and eventually settling for Tom.  Throughout The Great Gatsby, Daisy shows a lack of commitment as her affections go back and forth between Gatsby and Tom.
            When I began to read The Sun Also Rises,  my first impressions of Brett as uncaring and aloof reminded me strongly of Daisy.  Both Daisy and Brett live with a carefree attitude, disregarding the implications of their actions. Brett’s alcoholism adds another level to this self-destructive and seemingly hedonistic lifestyle. Both Daisy and Brett’s aloof worldviews seem to be at least partially to blame for their inability to love. The only thing Daisy truly seems to love is material possessions, as seen in the famous scene where Gatsby’s shirts drive Daisy to tears: “It makes me sad because I’ve never seen such beautiful shirts before.”
            Both women are beautiful and socially charming, but when we see them with their confidents (and our narrators) Nick and Jake, the truth comes to the surface. Daisy confides, “Well, I’ve had a very bad time, Nick, and I’m pretty cynical about everything.”  While Brett tells Jake, “Oh, darling, I’ve been so miserable” at the beginning of the book and “Darling, I’ve had a hell of a time” at the end.  They are both deeply unhappy people, who try to appear carefree. Their unconventional behavior, which is frivolous or even wild, only masks tragedy.
            It is interesting that both Fitzgerald and Hemingway conceived very unsentimental female characters. Are they reacting in some way to the “flapper” movement or to early stirrings of feminism? Though Daisy and Brett are flawed, neither author is overtly critical of their lifestyles. Fitzgerald and Hemingway are keen observers of a new type of female character they have introduced into fiction.  

            

Sunday, September 27, 2015

The Death of a Poet

The film The Hours tackles the question that many readers may have after reading Mrs. Dalloway, namely “Why was Septimus included in the novel?” In the film, Virginia Woolf spends much of the movie contemplating the death of the protagonist in her newest novel. In one of the final scenes, her husband asks her “Why must someone die?,” to which she answers “Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more.” When her husband asks, “Who will die?,” she responds “the poet.” This is clearly meant to reflect Woolf’s depressed and suicidal nature when she was writing Mrs. Dalloway. Through her writing, Woolf was expressing her own will to die “so that the rest of us will value life more.”
            In the film, our modern Clarissa Dalloway is planning a party at her apartment later that night. During the day she gets emotional when she begins to consider that the best days of her life are past her. However, at the climax of the film she visits her terminally ill friend Richard to take him to the party in his honor, and during her visit he commits suicide by jumping out of the window.

            Initially, Clarissa is in shock over Richard's death. But after a conversation with Richard’s mother, Clarissa finds new love for her partner and her daughter. While obviously she is still shaken from her friend’s death, in her final scene she seems to be already looking at life with a newfound appreciation. This expands upon Woolf’s reasoning concerning the death of a character. In the novel, Clarissa does not actually know Septimus (unlike the relation between her movie persona and Richard), but she hears of his death at her party and it affects her deeply. In this sense, Mrs. Dalloway is also changed by the death of “the poet” and perhaps the she, too, would go on to appreciate life more fully.

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Ernest Hemingway and the President of China, and an Interesting Photograph

The President of China, Xi Jinping, told 650 business executives and former US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger that Ernest Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea "left a deep impression" on him. "When I visited Cuba … I visited the pub Hemingway often went to and ordered his favorite drink - rum mixed with mint and ice."
While this has little to do with The Sun Also Rises, I just saw this headline referring to Hemingway and I figured I'd share it. 
I also recently saw a New York Times article about a new exhibition on Hemingway. In the article there was a picture that caught my interest as perhaps a real life counterpart to the events of The Sun Also Rises.

This picture shows Hemingway (left) at a table in Pamplona during the 1925 Fiesta of San Fermin. This picture makes me wonder if the others sitting at the table with him inspired characters in the novel.  Visit the exhibition online at: http://www.themorgan.org/exhibitions/ernest-hemingway





Monday, September 14, 2015

The Voice of Clarissa Dalloway



Today I stumbled across the only surviving recording of Virgina Woolf's voice. When I heard it, my mind conjured up an image of Clarissa Dalloway speaking. Her accent sounds insufferably uppercrust. In fact, though what she is saying about the English language is very interesting, it's actually hard to follow because the accent is so annoyingly aristocratic. The images in this slideshow also reflect the world of Clarissa Dalloway-- several of them show Woolf at parties and social gatherings much like those detailed in Mrs. Dalloway.





Saturday, September 12, 2015

For There She Was

The conclusion of Mrs. Dalloway takes place at Clarissa’s party, an inevitable climax as the book is completely set on the day of the event and largely concerned with the planning  that leads up to it.  Not long before, the story of Septimus Smith concluded tragically with his suicide, an expected resolution, though sad.  I found the ending of the story revolving around Clarissa Dalloway to end more abruptly, however, with the dramatic last line, “For there she was,” as Peter sees her in the doorway. This ending provoked in me a feeling that there could perhaps be happiness in the future for Clarissa, despite the wholly depressing subject matter of the rest of the novel.
            When he sees her in the doorway (a metaphor for a new beginning?), Peter’s internal questioning, “What is this terror? what is this ecstasy?”(p. 190) is answered in the next sentence. “It is Clarissa.” This obviously suggests that he is still in love with Clarissa, and throughout the book we have been exposed to Clarissa’s complex feelings towards Peter.

            Does this mean that a sequel to Mrs. Dalloway would consist of Peter and Clarissa eloping and living happily ever after? My answer would be an unequivocal no. Mrs. Dalloway is a novel about one day in the life of a deeply troubled woman (with a parallel story the last day in the life of a war veteran.) While the novel may end on a hopeful note, for Clarissa this is just another day, another party, with its ups and downs, drama and despair. Peter Walsh will marry the woman in India and Clarissa will continue to ponder the “what ifs” of life.  If this story were to be continued, would Clarissa eventually act upon her view that “death was defiance” (p. 180) and follow in the footsteps of Septimus?  Or, as I think, would she continue going about her frivolous party-going life, thinking of Peter Walsh, Sally Seton, Bourton, and what her life could or should have been?   And which path would be the greater tragedy?