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.

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.

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.

Make-Up Blog: Invisible Man

I like the fact that the narrator of Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man is unnamed; besides being fitting to the title and meaning of the work, this identity disconnect makes me really identify with his character- I feel like I am him rather than an interested spectator standing beside him. I most appreciate viewing the novel’s characters from the mind of the protagonist and considering how my opinion of the narrator affects my perception of the other characters. Because I’m still not too far into the novel, I haven’t formed a definite opinion on the narrator (whether I like him, trust his reliability, agree with him) – actually, I’ve gotten annoyed at his naiveté a couple of times. I’ve enjoyed forming an opinion about Mr. Norton while the narrator drives the rich man around campus, comparing the two characters, and considering how the two will interact with one another later in the novel.

Mr. Norton is a curious character to consider; when I first met him he seemed to be rather inconsequential- more of a force of power and money than an actual person. The narrator clearly felt similarly, as he seemed to look to Mr. Norton with admiring fear, though he infantilized the man like an idiot (which Mr. Norton very well may be). I’m not sure if that’s due to Ellison’s perception of race relations, if the narrator is a genius, if Mr. Norton is an imbecile, or some combination of these explanations. Whatever the reason, the narrator quietly disregards Mr. Norton’s ramblings and submissively answers his lunacy with, “I think I understand you better, now, sir” (Ellison 45). He is a perfect actor for his role and both are objects to each other. Throughout their disastrous trip, neither can relate to the other as an actual human being. Mr. Norton sees the narrator as the fruit of his labor, one of “three hundred teachers, seven hundred trained mechanics, eight hundred skilled farmers” (Ellison 45) that Mr. Norton has become through his philanthropy; the narrator, as I intimated already, views Mr. Norton only as a faceless supplier of money and his future.

They differ in personality, age, intelligence, and race- I think that these factors coincide so that the two are opposites; Mr. Norton foils the narrator by blustering arrogantly about his legacy as the narrator drifts mentally in silence. Besides this mental difference, they’ve been trained by society to dehumanize the others. Mr. Norton is taught to view the narrator as a product, and though he pretends to more liberal intentions, the narrator is more or less a talking cow to him. Conversely, the narrator is taught that white people like Mr. Norton are dangerous. He is encouraged by society to put on a show for the man so that he can get what he wants- in the narrator’s case, an education.

I think the two men, as foils, are going to be significant later in the novel. Even if Mr. Norton drifts out of the narrator’s life (and this is likely, since he appears to be quite flaky and unhealthy), someone like him will replace Mr. Norton. I’m sure that Mr. Norton will meet another young student like the narrator and see him as exactly the same person – or product.

Hamlet to Crucible

With all of the Books on File work and references in play and novel form to Christlike figures, I’m reminded heavily of a novel that I deeply enjoyed reading last year for AP English Literature. The Crucible, by Arthur Miller, is a statement about the nature of humankind and the faithfully unyielding manner in which it reasserts itself throughout history. This statement made about the unchanging nature of humankind is exemplified in Miller’s comparison of the hysterics during the Salem Witch Trials to the suspicion-riddled climate of 1950s America. Miller’s story is rich with rhetorical devices which not only add to a compelling reading experience but contribute heavily to his expression of theme.
Miller uses metaphors that appeal to the reader’s pathos and fully immerse him or her in the story’s action. As no doubt several of the villagers are aware and none will admit, the motive behind much of the corruption and accusation is greed for land or power. When expressing what she believes are the layers of corruption in the village, Mrs. Ann Putnam insists, ““There are wheels within wheels in this village, and fires within fires!” Here, she is alluding to wrongdoing, witchcraft; while supporting herself as an innocent. Both wheels and fire can be interpreted as being connected to the sinister practice of witchcraft, as wheels and other circular figures are powerful symbols in pagan lifestyles and fire is more stereotypically associated with evil. Mrs. Putnam uses these images to imply that witches inhabit the village of Salem. The wheels “within wheels” and fires “within fires,” as layers, symbolize the layers of complication of this issue such as the internal struggles for power among the villagers. Mrs. Putnam’s metaphoric declaration reveals her bitterly deep-seated desire to expose as a “witch” the woman she blames for the loss of her unborn children and her capability as an imperfect human to incite paranoia.
Arthur Miller also uses the device of kenning to arouse feelings of fear and illustrate Abigail’s determination to bring her revenge upon Elizabeth Proctor. Abigail craftily manipulates her friends into serving her purposes. Her power over them is first revealed in examining her harried whisper, “Let either of you breathe a word, or the edge of a word, about the other things, and I will come to you in the black of some terrible night and I will bring a pointy reckoning that will shudder you. And you know I can do it; I saw Indians smash my dear parents' heads on the pillow next to mine, and I have seen some reddish work done at night, and I can make you wish you had never seen the sun go down!” Colors in this quote serve as kennings; black represents the dark of night and reddish work is a kenning for violence. The crudity of these kennings compared to the words which they represent creates a more violent and terrifying tone when spoken by Abigail. The girl’s exploitive nature is manifested and one can easily draw comparisons between her self-serving behavior and that of other women in the village (Ann Putnam for example) or of politicians from the 1950s.
The Crucible demonstratea the massive power that negative ideological elements of humanity have gained, vengeance in particular. This is no more evident than in John Proctor’s indignant rant against the awakened hysterical attitude towards revenge, “I'll tell you what's walking Salem — vengeance is walking Salem. We are what we always were in Salem, but now the little crazy children are jangling the keys of the kingdom, and common vengeance writes the law!” In addition to biblical allusion to the “kingdom,” emphasizing Proctor’s belief that the inhabitants of Salem are interfering in matters far beyond their jurisdiction, Proctor personifies the force of vengeance.

A Classic

As I look back on novels that I've read throughout high school while searching for a book to use for Books on File, one novel in particular stands out as a possibility. Erich Remarque’s story of a young man caught in the trenches of World War I is one that lingers and haunts the mind of the reader. Already a classic novel, All Quiet on the Western Front is engrossing and well-written, employing elements such as figurative language and character development. The novel holds special meaning for readers across the world, who are deeply affected by its words. All Quiet on the Western Front’s enduring characteristics, the elements of vitality, craftsmanship, and significance, will ensure that it remains a classic novel.
All Quiet on the Western Front is a vital novel that has remained a classic for over sixty years. The novel is highly engrossing to new and old readers alike, which maintains its fan base. Paul’s experience has timeless characteristics, but it is also deeply rooted in the time of World War I. About the unchanging experience of war, Remarque writes, “It is as though formerly we were coins of different provinces; and now we are melted down and all bear the same stamp” (pg 272). This aptly sums up how war changes a person or a group; it unifies the minds of the soldiers until they are all essentially the same person. The timelessness of the novel appeals to people of all generations, proving that it will have the vitality to remain a popular story. Readers are brought back to the time in which Paul exists by the descriptions of how the soldiers and their families felt about the war. Paul displays his naïveté about the war, insisting, “But there are more lies told by the other side than by us… just think of those pamphlets the prisoners have on them, where it says that we eat Belgian children” (pg. 206). After reading this, one wants to learn more about Paul and what he thinks about the army. Interest in the time period in which World War I takes place will additionally secure the popularity of the novel. Readers’ fascination with Paul’s experiences in war will retain its strength for years to come.
Erich Remarque employs style and character techniques that lend texture to his novel. Similes are used often and across a wide range, including the horrors of war and the general way of life for Germans. Paul humorously compares himself and his comrades to sweating monkeys (pg. 232) as they move supplies throughout the camp, which lessens the tension between violent scenes of war and provides a much-needed respite from Paul’s usual gloom. Figurative language through personification and metaphors is also easily found, usually used to give a sense of the war as experienced by Paul. In one instance, Paul describes the feeling of being a soldier with, “We are insensible, dead men, who through some trick, some dreadful magic are still able to run and kill” (pg 116). This metaphor starkly demonstrates the reality of Paul’s surroundings and also contributes to the vitality of the novel. One of the most important elements of craftsmanship employed is the character development of Paul, as he transforms from a young and hopeful teenager to a cynical young man. Paul describes the change, sagely stating, “We are none of us more than twenty years old. But young? Youth? That is long ago. We are old folk” (pg 18). This quote is deeply affecting and well-written. Its short sentence length and lack of description only further emphasizes Paul’s point, that the war has stolen their childhoods. The excellent usage of craftsmanship in All Quiet on the Western Front without a doubt earns the novel a place among other classics.
The final characteristic of a classic that is exemplified in Remarque’s novel is significance. Though not all readers have endured war, Paul’s feelings of devastation and hopelessness are emotions that all can relate to. His insights about how the war has changed him and his comrades are shocking and sad coming from someone so young. When he compares the soldiers to dead men still able to run and kill, one’s heart breaks for the lost youth of the young men. Paul expresses his frustration with life as a soldier, ranting “All I do know is that this business about professions and studies and salaries and so on- it makes me sick, it is and always was disgusting. I don’t think I see anything at all, Albert” (pg 87). This quote shows how few choices Paul has and how hopeless it causes him to feel. Readers find their sympathy aligned with Paul’s feelings. Few have endured war like Paul, but the experience of reading his tragic story is still holds deep significance to the novel’s readers.

Interpretations: Hamlet

I’ve never been a fan of plays; I just can’t see them in my mind as clearly as when I’m reading a good novel. Hamlet, though, is changing that for me. I think I’ve reached an age where I can comprehend and appreciate Shakespeare’s tricky and witty diction and engrossing character development. I enjoy pondering the question that is running through everyone’s mind as we trudge through Hamlet: is the title character really going crazy? Is the death of his father and loss of his lover enough to drive him mad? Also, in regards to the spooky ghost who speaks to Hamlet: Is it really King Hamlet or is it a demon or a figment of Hamlet’s imagination? If it’s the King, should we assume that he has noble intentions? What is his relationship with Hamlet? If it’s a demon, what is its ultimate goal and why choose Hamlet as a scion? If Hamlet’s imagining it, was he really crazy before the action of the story? Do the play’s events really just depict his sane façade dripping away? Or are the tragedies of his life wearing away his sanity? Is he just pretending to find out information about Claudius and/or Ophelia?

I just got carried away with questions stemming from one basic question! Any query a person might have about this play just leads to more and more questions- not frustrating, annoying questions that don’t have any possibility of an answer, but interesting and subjective questions. I can think about a scene or character development a certain way and draw a conclusion about that part that may affect the way I consider the entire play. Especially given the setting, a cavernous old castle, the difference between a private whispered conversation and an overheard murmur is slight. Several of the scenes involve Hamlet speaking to himself or Ophelia about his plans and motivations, and it’s interesting to me that his perceived intentions can be completely different, depending on whether he knows that someone is listening to him. We’ve watched segments from at least three different Hamlet productions (Kenneth Branaugh as Hamlet is my absolute favorite) in which scenes, themes, and characters were interpreted in vastly different ways.

For instance, Ophelia’s character in the BBC version is an innocent, caring girl- she’s weak and sensitive to Hamlet and clearly cares about him, although we doubt that they’ve been intimate. Ophelia in Mel Gibson’s Hamlet is played by the lovely and fantastic Helena Bonham Carter, an actress with a completely different aura about her. She’s also probably innocent, but she is interpreted as being more independent of Hamlet- she’s a character with her own motivations less than a pawn for her father. Kate Winslet as Ophelia across Kenneth Branaugh’s Hamlet is definitely not as innocent as the other two- she’s given Hamlet everything. When Hamlet confronts Ophelia in this version, the “sweet whispers” that came with Hamlets gifts take on another level of significance. I love it that *everything* can be debated and alternately interpreted when it comes to plays, Hamlet most of all.