The story of Adam and Eve is one that almost everyone hears about in childhood, regardless of religion or culture. It is one of the most basic stories in the bible and also, of course, one of the most prevalent allusions in literature. In pretty much any work of literature that our AP Literature class has read this year, from Winesburg, Ohio to Frankenstein to Hamlet to Invisible Man, the “original” man and woman have surfaced to make our class question meaning of the work in relation to this biblical story.
As we have learned from various allusion presentations, the story is told in Genesis, beginning with the creation of Adam, the first man, from the dust (which if anyone is interested, is very visually fascinating in a claymation version of Mark Twain’s life- I can’t remember the name of the movie but it is really really interesting) and giving him life. Adam is all lonely and none of the animals can satisfy his … “needs” (???!!), so God makes a woman person out of Adam’s rib (I find it interesting that the order is man, animals, woman). The two are allowed to eat anything they could ever want in the garden EXCEPT for the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil (also, I think it’s funny that they’re forbidden from consuming knowledge- implies that tenets involve blindness). So of course Eve is tempted by a snake to eat the fruit and then Adam eats it as well. God curses them to live in hardship (and have to go through menstruation and horribly painful childbirth). So they’ve been kicked out of the garden. I have been informed that some other things happen later, like children or something, but this is the part of the story that I’m interested in tonight.
Since I seem to be on a role in finding allusions in Frankenstein, one of my favorite works of literature we’ve been required to read this year (not because the read itself was the most enjoyable but because it’s so ripe for blog posts), I’ll explore this allusion in Shelley’s novel. On page 94, Frankenstein’s monster cries, “Remember that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel.” He places a burden of guilt on the doctor, who as a nearly divine creator ought to have been somewhat responsible for his monster, but instead abandoned it. Considering the biblical story though, I must question: If Frankenstein had loved his monster like God loved Adam, would the tragedy have been avoided? After all, Adam screwed up too. Perhaps in this light, the tragedy is less a tale of creator abandonment than a testament to the sad truth that everyone and everything is fallible. How cheerful.
Just to throw another one in there, on page 127, the monster again accuses Dr. Frankenstein “…no Eve soothed my sorrows nor shared my thoughts; I was alone. I remembered Adam’s supplication to his Creator. But where was mine?” The last part of this quote is similar to what I explored in the previous paragraph, but he does throw in a reference to Eve, which is in my opinion an insistence that a responsible creator should create companionship for his child, or at least make it possible for the child to make its own companionship. Anyway, I definitely have a clearer handle on the Adam and Eve biblical story after revisiting it in my allusions and delving a little into Frankenstein.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Job Allusions in Literature
After spending a semester and a half listening to various allusion presentations in my second period AP English Literature class, I’ve become significantly more interested in the origins of allusions and their uses in works of literature. Most all of the allusions interest me (especially the scandalous ones!), but one that strikes my particular fancy tonight is the story of Job. I think the concept of exhaustion is one that many of us seniors with AP classes can relate to lately.
I looked through some old print-outs and more internet sources to refresh myself on the story of Job. The man was incredibly devoted to his Christian religion- he prayed all the time and followed the law of the Bible. As to the rest of his life, he was very rich and had ten children. This was a lot of potential sins being created by his legacy (who knows what sins his sons could commit without his control!?!?), so considering this he often burnt various sacrifices to atone in advance (which to me seems somewhat excessive, but… moving on). So the Christian God notices this Extremely Religious man and asks Satan his opinion, who feels that Job only maintains his devotions because he is so wealthy. To prove this, Satan takes away *everything* from Job and leaves his family in shambles (a witch even kills his children). Job’s faith isn’t shaken- instead he becomes sort of like a Buddha and wanders around naked and bald, like a sad religious hobo. So Satan gives him an STD or something and his wife wants him to die and *still*, his piousness is unshaken. God rewards him by restoring his wealth and health and replaces his massacred children with shiny new sons (which to me seems a little bit horrifying). And then it ends. I understand that patience and faith are virtues, but I just can’t appreciate much of this story now that I have closely examined it. Regardless, I appreciate the potential of Job’s story to enrich works of literature and movies and I definitely enjoy the place that this biblical story has.
Though I can’t find instances where Frankenstein directly alludes to the story of Job, I definitely think that a connection to this biblical story is implied. After all, Shelley and Frankenstein are constantly questioning their creators, and the themes of undeserved suffering, advice, anger towards a creator pervade throughout the entire novel. It makes me think that perhaps Shelley might toy with the idea that the Christian God is malicious. I think she might agree with me that Job’s suffering was pointless. Testing one’s faith for the hell of it to me smacks of burning ants with a magnifying class for the hell of it- both are pointless destruction. Anyway, I’m definitely going to keep an eye out for both direct and indirect allusions to that and other biblical and mythological stories that we’ve learned about this year in our allusion presentation. I can better see now how works of literature connect to essential human emotions and shared experiences by viewing allusions in the context of society and history, and it makes the reading experience that much more interesting.
I looked through some old print-outs and more internet sources to refresh myself on the story of Job. The man was incredibly devoted to his Christian religion- he prayed all the time and followed the law of the Bible. As to the rest of his life, he was very rich and had ten children. This was a lot of potential sins being created by his legacy (who knows what sins his sons could commit without his control!?!?), so considering this he often burnt various sacrifices to atone in advance (which to me seems somewhat excessive, but… moving on). So the Christian God notices this Extremely Religious man and asks Satan his opinion, who feels that Job only maintains his devotions because he is so wealthy. To prove this, Satan takes away *everything* from Job and leaves his family in shambles (a witch even kills his children). Job’s faith isn’t shaken- instead he becomes sort of like a Buddha and wanders around naked and bald, like a sad religious hobo. So Satan gives him an STD or something and his wife wants him to die and *still*, his piousness is unshaken. God rewards him by restoring his wealth and health and replaces his massacred children with shiny new sons (which to me seems a little bit horrifying). And then it ends. I understand that patience and faith are virtues, but I just can’t appreciate much of this story now that I have closely examined it. Regardless, I appreciate the potential of Job’s story to enrich works of literature and movies and I definitely enjoy the place that this biblical story has.
Though I can’t find instances where Frankenstein directly alludes to the story of Job, I definitely think that a connection to this biblical story is implied. After all, Shelley and Frankenstein are constantly questioning their creators, and the themes of undeserved suffering, advice, anger towards a creator pervade throughout the entire novel. It makes me think that perhaps Shelley might toy with the idea that the Christian God is malicious. I think she might agree with me that Job’s suffering was pointless. Testing one’s faith for the hell of it to me smacks of burning ants with a magnifying class for the hell of it- both are pointless destruction. Anyway, I’m definitely going to keep an eye out for both direct and indirect allusions to that and other biblical and mythological stories that we’ve learned about this year in our allusion presentation. I can better see now how works of literature connect to essential human emotions and shared experiences by viewing allusions in the context of society and history, and it makes the reading experience that much more interesting.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Fight Club: Book vs. Movie
In this week’s literature circle discussion, the first of three about Chuck Palahniuk’s novel Fight Club, I was interested in the points that my fellow group members brought up. Nicole’s critical article raised the possibility that the narrator and Tyler Durden could be the same person, which I think I remember from the movie and also I felt was subtly implied in the first nine chapters that I’ve read thus far. I know that, having seen the movie version of Palahniuk’s novel, my view of the book will be somewhat affected by what I’ve watched but hopefully, since it’s been a few years since I saw the movie I’ll be able to enjoy the book, relatively unaffected by knowledge of the plot development.
In terms of the style and mood of the Palahniuk’s novel, I feel that the movie adaptation got things perfect. The sinister, grungy, dingy tone of the movie feel slike an exact translation from the original novel and the characters in my mind also translate perfectly from one medium to the next. Even the narrator, who is *never* described, seems a perfect fit in Edward Norton, whose sad, tired, eyes are like a mirror to the narrator’s disillusionment (and invisibility!) with society and with his life. Brad Pitt as Tyler Durden is an almost-perfect actor for the character- he’s definitely a leader and the sort of person who Edward Norton’s character would seem to gravitate to. But for me, the mysterious and threatening undertones of Tyler Durden’s character in the novel aren’t much reflected in Pitt’s machismo performance- one that appealed to hordes of fight-club wanna be teenage boys but perhaps didn’t do complete justice to the novel.
The best character translation between the book and movie, especially in terms of appearance, was Marla Singer. Her skin is described as pale, pale white and rather pasty. She has dark, large “anime” eyes, ratty hair, and pouty big lips. She *is* Helena Bonham Carter. And with an American accent, I really couldn’t imagine a more perfect Marla Singer. Granted, her character is not as explored (thus far in the novel anyway) as the narrator or Tyler Durden, but to me she encapsulates Marla’s cynicism, her perverse satisfaction in watching suffering (almost sadistic?), her desire to die and her need for love, particularly physical, from the right person who walks her way.
As far as the rest of the novel goes, I’m going to do my best to forget that I have ever even seen the movie version of Fight Club. This approach, I feel, will be most helpful in analyzing the progression of the novel and its characters in the next two sections of the novel. I’m not sorry that I’ve seen the movie, because right now I’m reading with a visual image of the characters in mind, a faint understanding of the novel’s themes (but not so clear that I can’t form my own opinions from the text), and an eagerness to continue following the narrator through the next part of his life.
In terms of the style and mood of the Palahniuk’s novel, I feel that the movie adaptation got things perfect. The sinister, grungy, dingy tone of the movie feel slike an exact translation from the original novel and the characters in my mind also translate perfectly from one medium to the next. Even the narrator, who is *never* described, seems a perfect fit in Edward Norton, whose sad, tired, eyes are like a mirror to the narrator’s disillusionment (and invisibility!) with society and with his life. Brad Pitt as Tyler Durden is an almost-perfect actor for the character- he’s definitely a leader and the sort of person who Edward Norton’s character would seem to gravitate to. But for me, the mysterious and threatening undertones of Tyler Durden’s character in the novel aren’t much reflected in Pitt’s machismo performance- one that appealed to hordes of fight-club wanna be teenage boys but perhaps didn’t do complete justice to the novel.
The best character translation between the book and movie, especially in terms of appearance, was Marla Singer. Her skin is described as pale, pale white and rather pasty. She has dark, large “anime” eyes, ratty hair, and pouty big lips. She *is* Helena Bonham Carter. And with an American accent, I really couldn’t imagine a more perfect Marla Singer. Granted, her character is not as explored (thus far in the novel anyway) as the narrator or Tyler Durden, but to me she encapsulates Marla’s cynicism, her perverse satisfaction in watching suffering (almost sadistic?), her desire to die and her need for love, particularly physical, from the right person who walks her way.
As far as the rest of the novel goes, I’m going to do my best to forget that I have ever even seen the movie version of Fight Club. This approach, I feel, will be most helpful in analyzing the progression of the novel and its characters in the next two sections of the novel. I’m not sorry that I’ve seen the movie, because right now I’m reading with a visual image of the characters in mind, a faint understanding of the novel’s themes (but not so clear that I can’t form my own opinions from the text), and an eagerness to continue following the narrator through the next part of his life.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Apples in Invisible Man
After finishing most of Invisible Man this weekend, I realized that I had gained a lot of insight about the novel from the index I kept of certain themes and motifs. A lot of subjects came up on nearly every page- notably, black versus white, darkness and light, and knowledge and ignorance. I made a genuine effort to catalogue the most crucial of those instances, but what really interests me in my index is the terms that surfaced only a few times throughout the novel. I saw apples a few times and also direct references to sex a few more and both seemed to be pertinent and related to one another in my examination of the novel.
In many of our discussions in AP Literature this year, we’ve come across the subject of apples and sexuality. Apples in literature often represent knowledge- perhaps of spirituality or even of sex. They are symbolic of temptation, corruption, or enlightenment- sometimes all three at once. The word “apple” appears in Invisible Man exactly six times. First, on page 11, the woman in the narrator’s dream says in reference to her white master, “I loved him and give him the poison and be withered away like a frost-bit apple. Them boys woulda tore him to pieces…” It is significant that the woman, an uneducated slave, should describe her master and sexual companion in terms of a withering apple upon his death- when he dies, hope for being freed (or obtaining knowledge of freedom and the outside world!) shrivels as well.
When the narrator and Mr. Norton come across Jim Trueblood, they also stumble across apple imagery in page 53, when they find a “hard red apple stamped out of tin” near the man’s porch. The fact that Trueblood has a bright shining symbol of knowledge left like garbage out on his front lawn speaks volumes about the man’s character. He’s ignorant of the fact that he should take responsibility for his disgusting lack of morals and of the white leaders’ motivations for financing him.
One of the last significant mentions of the apple in Invisible Man that can perhaps be most directly linked to sexuality occurs after the narrator is released from the Liberty Paint hospital. The narrator sees a young platinum blond nibbling at a Red Delicious apple on page 250. The event is extremely significant in the novel- for starters, the instance is one of few where the narrator expresses an interest in sex – especially interesting that he’s interested in a white woman when society forbids him to act out such an interest. The woman nibbling on an apple, on knowledge, is like a portent to the narrator that the times are changing and that everyone’s preconceived notions about race and sexuality are about to change- the “platinum” of her hair supports this modernism.
After searching through the book and finding significant mentions of apples where I wouldn’t expect them, I’m definitely going to keep an eye out from now on when reading other works of literature for mentions of apples, because they are almost always significant in some way or another.
In many of our discussions in AP Literature this year, we’ve come across the subject of apples and sexuality. Apples in literature often represent knowledge- perhaps of spirituality or even of sex. They are symbolic of temptation, corruption, or enlightenment- sometimes all three at once. The word “apple” appears in Invisible Man exactly six times. First, on page 11, the woman in the narrator’s dream says in reference to her white master, “I loved him and give him the poison and be withered away like a frost-bit apple. Them boys woulda tore him to pieces…” It is significant that the woman, an uneducated slave, should describe her master and sexual companion in terms of a withering apple upon his death- when he dies, hope for being freed (or obtaining knowledge of freedom and the outside world!) shrivels as well.
When the narrator and Mr. Norton come across Jim Trueblood, they also stumble across apple imagery in page 53, when they find a “hard red apple stamped out of tin” near the man’s porch. The fact that Trueblood has a bright shining symbol of knowledge left like garbage out on his front lawn speaks volumes about the man’s character. He’s ignorant of the fact that he should take responsibility for his disgusting lack of morals and of the white leaders’ motivations for financing him.
One of the last significant mentions of the apple in Invisible Man that can perhaps be most directly linked to sexuality occurs after the narrator is released from the Liberty Paint hospital. The narrator sees a young platinum blond nibbling at a Red Delicious apple on page 250. The event is extremely significant in the novel- for starters, the instance is one of few where the narrator expresses an interest in sex – especially interesting that he’s interested in a white woman when society forbids him to act out such an interest. The woman nibbling on an apple, on knowledge, is like a portent to the narrator that the times are changing and that everyone’s preconceived notions about race and sexuality are about to change- the “platinum” of her hair supports this modernism.
After searching through the book and finding significant mentions of apples where I wouldn’t expect them, I’m definitely going to keep an eye out from now on when reading other works of literature for mentions of apples, because they are almost always significant in some way or another.
Monday, March 1, 2010
A Clockwork Orange- Last Chapter
Discussions lately in AP Lit class have reminded me lately of books that I’ve read before; in relation to the Invisible Man unit this semester, we have chosen books to read for new seminar groups. I had already read a couple of the books on the list (I chose to read Fight Club because it struck my fancy at the time), including A Clockwork Orange. It’s not my favorite book in the world, but somehow I have watched the movie, read the book, and listened to the audio book as read by the author (who is a rather surly man and seems to resent the success of A Clockwork Orange over his more “deserving” works).
I found the plot and events of A Clockwork Orange to leave a nasty taste in my mouth; Alex, an antisocial youth commits a number of vile acts with his gang sometime in the future before being arrested. His behavior continues on a more limited level as he pretends to find religious salvation. Eventually, he is one of a few prisoners chosen to be test subjects for the “Ludovico Technique,” which promises to change patients’ behavior and have them out of prison after just two weeks. Alex is exposed to horrible violent images coupled with beautiful classical music, which eventually causes him to be unable to listen to his favorite music. Alex is eventually released and unable to defend himself; his parents have replaced him and now some of his past victims are returning to seek revenge on him. He comes to live with Mr. Alexander, whose wife Alex killed; the man unknowingly takes him in to use as a tool against the government’s oppressive programs. The treatment is reversed and Alex returns to his former violent self.
After this point, there is a discrepancy. In Burgess’ original version of the novel, there is a final chapter (the 21st) in which Alex renounces his violence and begins a more productive life. In the American version of the novel, the editors removed the final chapter (why do American versions of British books always get drastically changed!?) which made Burgess extremely angry. I sympathize with him- editors should have the power to advise authors and make smaller changes, but they shouldn’t completely alter the message of the book. I loved the statement Burgess made in his novel about human morality, that for true morality to exist and society to function, people must have a choice. They shouldn’t be forced or brainwashed into certain behaviors, positive or negative. Alex is reformed twice- the first time is clearly against nature, as he is made nauseous at one of the most purely beautiful aspects of the world, music. He feels no differently about the people around him and is more like a grizzly bear in a straightjacket than a reformed prisoner. But after he reaches his 21st chapter, the age at which people traditionally mature, and he is able to make the decision for himself, he chooses to live without violence. His mind and body are one.
This ending to the novel, while maybe not as “controversial” as the altered ending, completely changes the novel from being an ode to violence and perhaps a criticism of violent tendencies to being a larger, more important statement about the nature of morality that happens to use violence to bring across important points. I can understand why Burgess was angry about the change to his book (that he rants about extensively in the introduction to the audiobook, if anyone is interested) and hope that, in the future, editors leave the writing to the authors.
I found the plot and events of A Clockwork Orange to leave a nasty taste in my mouth; Alex, an antisocial youth commits a number of vile acts with his gang sometime in the future before being arrested. His behavior continues on a more limited level as he pretends to find religious salvation. Eventually, he is one of a few prisoners chosen to be test subjects for the “Ludovico Technique,” which promises to change patients’ behavior and have them out of prison after just two weeks. Alex is exposed to horrible violent images coupled with beautiful classical music, which eventually causes him to be unable to listen to his favorite music. Alex is eventually released and unable to defend himself; his parents have replaced him and now some of his past victims are returning to seek revenge on him. He comes to live with Mr. Alexander, whose wife Alex killed; the man unknowingly takes him in to use as a tool against the government’s oppressive programs. The treatment is reversed and Alex returns to his former violent self.
After this point, there is a discrepancy. In Burgess’ original version of the novel, there is a final chapter (the 21st) in which Alex renounces his violence and begins a more productive life. In the American version of the novel, the editors removed the final chapter (why do American versions of British books always get drastically changed!?) which made Burgess extremely angry. I sympathize with him- editors should have the power to advise authors and make smaller changes, but they shouldn’t completely alter the message of the book. I loved the statement Burgess made in his novel about human morality, that for true morality to exist and society to function, people must have a choice. They shouldn’t be forced or brainwashed into certain behaviors, positive or negative. Alex is reformed twice- the first time is clearly against nature, as he is made nauseous at one of the most purely beautiful aspects of the world, music. He feels no differently about the people around him and is more like a grizzly bear in a straightjacket than a reformed prisoner. But after he reaches his 21st chapter, the age at which people traditionally mature, and he is able to make the decision for himself, he chooses to live without violence. His mind and body are one.
This ending to the novel, while maybe not as “controversial” as the altered ending, completely changes the novel from being an ode to violence and perhaps a criticism of violent tendencies to being a larger, more important statement about the nature of morality that happens to use violence to bring across important points. I can understand why Burgess was angry about the change to his book (that he rants about extensively in the introduction to the audiobook, if anyone is interested) and hope that, in the future, editors leave the writing to the authors.
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