The Sound and The Fury Reading syllabus
The syllabus dates indicate the day that you should do the assignment. Use the Faulkner website link. That link will be extremely useful.
3/27- 3/28: Read the first chapter, “April Seventh, 1928.” Read Faullkner’s introduction to the text from the website. The link is listed under Faulkner in the link list.
3/29 – 3/31: Read the second chapter, “June Second, 1910.” Go to the "intertext" link on the Faulkner website and read the Macbeth connection and the two criticisms from the page.
4/1 – 4/3: Read the third chapter, “April Sixth 1928.” Post a blog about the novel BEFORE you go on break.
Finish the novel over the break, or read it before you go (which is my suggestion)
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Darkness and light blog #5
By Tuesday night, you should post a blog that draws some comparisons between the movie and the novella. Put some thought into it. This is a graded assignment and doesn't fit into the overall blog grade. It might be good to start with a passage from the text that can get your muse engaged. Below, I 've written my own to give you a guide line for length, depth and one way to compare. There are many way to compare them to one another. Make sure you give your blog a title.
"Anything approaching the change that came over his features I have never seen before, and hope never to see again. Oh, I wasn't touched. I was fascinated. It was as though a veil had been rent. I saw on that ivory face the expression of sombre pride, of ruthless power, of craven terror -- of an intense and hopeless despair. Did he live his life again in every detail of desire, temptation, and surrender during that supreme moment of complete knowledge? He cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision -- he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath:
"'The horror! The horror!' Heart of Darkness
“Clear in his mind, but his soul is mad.” “Apocalypse Now”
Throughout both Heart of Darkness and “Apocalypse Now” darkness and light intermingle with one another like clarity and madness. The stories often cross and crisscross that fine line. Madness is perhaps a form of clarity and in clarity each narrator sees the madness. Does one become part of this madness to realize the darkness within oneself or does one who is mad seem sane in the madness of war?
Imperialism could certainly be a form of madness as democracy imposed on another is mad as well. Perhaps the most telling paradox of the film is the scene in which the helicopters wreak havoc on a village in the midst of Wagner booming through the speakers. I, too, would be frightened by this “civilized” madness. On several levels the scene contrasts the brutal, unbiased slaughter of civilians and civilians criminalized by war. War encompasses the innocent as well as the guilty. Wagner was championed by Hitler during WWII as the great Aryan composer. The choice to use Wagner as the soundtrack for war is not by accident. The two scenes with the chopper unit illustrate the glaring paradox between what is civilized and what is truly just brut force. There is not a clear line between the savage and the civilized. Ideals of democracy (and imperialism) degenerate into brutality for the sake of the ideal.
The Vietnam War lends itself easily to such rampant paradox. Although we may not heed the lessons of the past, we can certainly expose them for the sins that they are. Our democratic ideals are certainly suspect as is imperialism in the name of “civilizing.” For both these case studies, the ideals are imposed with ferocious brutality. Conrad’s story provides no relief either. Journey up the river is a motif that flows through both stories. Into the darkness on one’s mind under the guise of democracy or imperialism disturbingly brings a savagery to the civilized. Each story results in madness-- an unrelenting madness, one no less savage than the other. While the Vietnam War exposes us for our inconsistencies and paradox of democracy, Conrad exposes the prejudice and blindness of imperialism. As both “lead into the heart of an immense darkness.”
Conrad finishes his novel with a fairly enigmatic passage. “[I]f I had rendered Kurtz that justice which was his due? Hadn’t he said he wanted only justice? But I couldn’t. I could not tell her. It would have been too dark—too dark altogether.” I keep wondering what is the justice anyway? Are we capable of those lofty aspirations when we often use them to justify cruelty on other people. The human condition seems constantly in flux and in paradox around this justice.
"Anything approaching the change that came over his features I have never seen before, and hope never to see again. Oh, I wasn't touched. I was fascinated. It was as though a veil had been rent. I saw on that ivory face the expression of sombre pride, of ruthless power, of craven terror -- of an intense and hopeless despair. Did he live his life again in every detail of desire, temptation, and surrender during that supreme moment of complete knowledge? He cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision -- he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath:
"'The horror! The horror!' Heart of Darkness
“Clear in his mind, but his soul is mad.” “Apocalypse Now”
Throughout both Heart of Darkness and “Apocalypse Now” darkness and light intermingle with one another like clarity and madness. The stories often cross and crisscross that fine line. Madness is perhaps a form of clarity and in clarity each narrator sees the madness. Does one become part of this madness to realize the darkness within oneself or does one who is mad seem sane in the madness of war?
Imperialism could certainly be a form of madness as democracy imposed on another is mad as well. Perhaps the most telling paradox of the film is the scene in which the helicopters wreak havoc on a village in the midst of Wagner booming through the speakers. I, too, would be frightened by this “civilized” madness. On several levels the scene contrasts the brutal, unbiased slaughter of civilians and civilians criminalized by war. War encompasses the innocent as well as the guilty. Wagner was championed by Hitler during WWII as the great Aryan composer. The choice to use Wagner as the soundtrack for war is not by accident. The two scenes with the chopper unit illustrate the glaring paradox between what is civilized and what is truly just brut force. There is not a clear line between the savage and the civilized. Ideals of democracy (and imperialism) degenerate into brutality for the sake of the ideal.
The Vietnam War lends itself easily to such rampant paradox. Although we may not heed the lessons of the past, we can certainly expose them for the sins that they are. Our democratic ideals are certainly suspect as is imperialism in the name of “civilizing.” For both these case studies, the ideals are imposed with ferocious brutality. Conrad’s story provides no relief either. Journey up the river is a motif that flows through both stories. Into the darkness on one’s mind under the guise of democracy or imperialism disturbingly brings a savagery to the civilized. Each story results in madness-- an unrelenting madness, one no less savage than the other. While the Vietnam War exposes us for our inconsistencies and paradox of democracy, Conrad exposes the prejudice and blindness of imperialism. As both “lead into the heart of an immense darkness.”
Conrad finishes his novel with a fairly enigmatic passage. “[I]f I had rendered Kurtz that justice which was his due? Hadn’t he said he wanted only justice? But I couldn’t. I could not tell her. It would have been too dark—too dark altogether.” I keep wondering what is the justice anyway? Are we capable of those lofty aspirations when we often use them to justify cruelty on other people. The human condition seems constantly in flux and in paradox around this justice.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Short stories - Blog #4
Which of the short stories do you feel is one of the most complex? What makes it so? What part of the story seems to resist interpretation? What part seems deceptively simple? What still remains unanswerable? How does the title add to the variety of interpretation available throughout the story?
OR
If these stories are "art," what makes them a creative activity both for the reader and the writer? Choose a story and discuss its creative aspects and what is available for interpretation.
OR
If these stories are "art," what makes them a creative activity both for the reader and the writer? Choose a story and discuss its creative aspects and what is available for interpretation.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
1sr draft Owen
First draft --
Like classical Greek tragedy, A Prayer For Owney Meany embodies tragic vision. Obviously, Owen Meany is the tragic hero, as was Oedipus Rex. His fervor to fulfill his fate brings us to both fear and pity, which are the essential elements that tragedy should provoke from its viewers, and in our case, the readers. Fear occurs as a response to the strength of Owen's conviction and power to fulfill his fate, and pity occurs at his death and the woefully inadequate disciples that surround Owen. The bigger picture--that of tragic vision-- in this story is intertwined with the idea of faith. In the classical Greek perspective of tragedy, fate is like faith. In the modern 20th century, faith is like fate. Irving continually blends these two spiritual ideas together to create his tragic vision. And as we all know, faith and fate are full of irony. In both the classical and modern scenarios of tragedy, irony is what all the characters must endure and the only thing they are left with.
Early in the story, John states; "I remembered how he had appeared to all of us: like a descending angel--a tiny fiery god, sent to adjudicate the errors of our ways." For the Greeks, the absolute authority of the gods defines the role of fate that one will either benefit from or suffer from. He may seem like a god to those around him, but to us, he is all too human. Owen doesn't exactly know his fate, but he works purposely towards that fate. He knows that his only choice is the choice that will eventually kill him. He is fully aware and marches head on into his fate, into his heroism and head-on into his death. He saves the children; he saves his friend, and he believes completely in the power of God for his resurrection. He is acutely aware that irony fills all his choices and his nobility resides in that knowledge, and those around him also acknowledge that nobility but cannot attain it for themselves.
In the biblical perspective, John's mother's name, Tabitha, means "one risen from the dead." Owen is responsible for her death, but he is also the one that keeps her memory alive for John. Owen drives around with the "dummy" in his truck. His fate is terrible and horrible and just as "he comes for the dummy," he embraces his fate. He keeps Tabitha near him as a constant reminder that he “is an instrument of God’s will.” His irony is painful and difficult. Irving's constant use of irony in relation to Owen reinforces this Greek connection. He is helpless to change his fate--the motif of armlessness emphasizes this point, over and over. (passage)He is noble in that he accepts his responsibility and John responds by remaining his friend. Also, we can infer, he is Owen’s disciple.
John's life was inextricably tied to Owen's life. In the Bible, the book of John is concerned primarily with the mystic, spiritual connection with God, not the ritualistic aspects of the church. The intangible link with God that drives John's connection to Owen and shaped John’s entire life. Again, we are confronted with yet another irony. John's life is bolstered and given purpose by Owen's search for his fate, but once Owen is gone, John is left alone, isolated and, yet, safe. He is alive, like the Disciples of Christ, but he has lost the light of Owen. John understands much; he has experienced much but can only tell of this tragic figure. There seems to be so much John is unable to articulate because his life is shaped by the tragic figure of Owen and he, John, is not the tragic hero. Instead he flees into the political dogma of the today, and we soon grow tired of his inactive activism. He is both better and worse for the experience, but he alive and faithful. He believes in the compelling power of fate yet his own life remains commonplace. The tragic poignancy of Owen’s sacrifice is that Owen knows that John’s life will not amount to much.
Hester is the Mary Magdalene of this story. John explains that she spent her life (insert passage) sleeping with as many men as possible and only loved one—Owen. It is probable that Owen did not have a sexual relationship with her. Irony would dictate so because she loved only Owen who loved her unconditionally, yet she slept with so many others who either she did not love or they did not love her. Yet she is distinguished from John. She is tortured and filled with angst, but prospers with her music. Her purposeless life is given a purpose by Owen's fulfillment of his fate. Hester's lost life is only found in her relationship with Owen and after he is gone, she only has the experience that is translated into the language of music -- perhaps a modern-day psalms of sorts. Like John, her irony is what she is left with in her life. She is left alone and isolated, but wildly successful.
The final scene of Owen's life is with the nuns, and this scene is the final irony of this tragic vision: Owen comforts the nuns. In every relationship that Owen has, irony is the major result of that respective relationship. In the case of A Prayer For Owen Meany, the tragic vision is that of the essential irony of life that we all must suffer and never fully understand as Owen did. Owen understood and fulfilled his fate knowing that this irony is what will fill the others with the pity and fear that his tragic fate inspired. Just as Oedipus ----------------- at the conclusion of the play as an acknowledgement of his own personal irony and leaves himself as the example, Owen purposely fulfills his fate so that all can have their own, personal irony.
Like classical Greek tragedy, A Prayer For Owney Meany embodies tragic vision. Obviously, Owen Meany is the tragic hero, as was Oedipus Rex. His fervor to fulfill his fate brings us to both fear and pity, which are the essential elements that tragedy should provoke from its viewers, and in our case, the readers. Fear occurs as a response to the strength of Owen's conviction and power to fulfill his fate, and pity occurs at his death and the woefully inadequate disciples that surround Owen. The bigger picture--that of tragic vision-- in this story is intertwined with the idea of faith. In the classical Greek perspective of tragedy, fate is like faith. In the modern 20th century, faith is like fate. Irving continually blends these two spiritual ideas together to create his tragic vision. And as we all know, faith and fate are full of irony. In both the classical and modern scenarios of tragedy, irony is what all the characters must endure and the only thing they are left with.
Early in the story, John states; "I remembered how he had appeared to all of us: like a descending angel--a tiny fiery god, sent to adjudicate the errors of our ways." For the Greeks, the absolute authority of the gods defines the role of fate that one will either benefit from or suffer from. He may seem like a god to those around him, but to us, he is all too human. Owen doesn't exactly know his fate, but he works purposely towards that fate. He knows that his only choice is the choice that will eventually kill him. He is fully aware and marches head on into his fate, into his heroism and head-on into his death. He saves the children; he saves his friend, and he believes completely in the power of God for his resurrection. He is acutely aware that irony fills all his choices and his nobility resides in that knowledge, and those around him also acknowledge that nobility but cannot attain it for themselves.
In the biblical perspective, John's mother's name, Tabitha, means "one risen from the dead." Owen is responsible for her death, but he is also the one that keeps her memory alive for John. Owen drives around with the "dummy" in his truck. His fate is terrible and horrible and just as "he comes for the dummy," he embraces his fate. He keeps Tabitha near him as a constant reminder that he “is an instrument of God’s will.” His irony is painful and difficult. Irving's constant use of irony in relation to Owen reinforces this Greek connection. He is helpless to change his fate--the motif of armlessness emphasizes this point, over and over. (passage)He is noble in that he accepts his responsibility and John responds by remaining his friend. Also, we can infer, he is Owen’s disciple.
John's life was inextricably tied to Owen's life. In the Bible, the book of John is concerned primarily with the mystic, spiritual connection with God, not the ritualistic aspects of the church. The intangible link with God that drives John's connection to Owen and shaped John’s entire life. Again, we are confronted with yet another irony. John's life is bolstered and given purpose by Owen's search for his fate, but once Owen is gone, John is left alone, isolated and, yet, safe. He is alive, like the Disciples of Christ, but he has lost the light of Owen. John understands much; he has experienced much but can only tell of this tragic figure. There seems to be so much John is unable to articulate because his life is shaped by the tragic figure of Owen and he, John, is not the tragic hero. Instead he flees into the political dogma of the today, and we soon grow tired of his inactive activism. He is both better and worse for the experience, but he alive and faithful. He believes in the compelling power of fate yet his own life remains commonplace. The tragic poignancy of Owen’s sacrifice is that Owen knows that John’s life will not amount to much.
Hester is the Mary Magdalene of this story. John explains that she spent her life (insert passage) sleeping with as many men as possible and only loved one—Owen. It is probable that Owen did not have a sexual relationship with her. Irony would dictate so because she loved only Owen who loved her unconditionally, yet she slept with so many others who either she did not love or they did not love her. Yet she is distinguished from John. She is tortured and filled with angst, but prospers with her music. Her purposeless life is given a purpose by Owen's fulfillment of his fate. Hester's lost life is only found in her relationship with Owen and after he is gone, she only has the experience that is translated into the language of music -- perhaps a modern-day psalms of sorts. Like John, her irony is what she is left with in her life. She is left alone and isolated, but wildly successful.
The final scene of Owen's life is with the nuns, and this scene is the final irony of this tragic vision: Owen comforts the nuns. In every relationship that Owen has, irony is the major result of that respective relationship. In the case of A Prayer For Owen Meany, the tragic vision is that of the essential irony of life that we all must suffer and never fully understand as Owen did. Owen understood and fulfilled his fate knowing that this irony is what will fill the others with the pity and fear that his tragic fate inspired. Just as Oedipus ----------------- at the conclusion of the play as an acknowledgement of his own personal irony and leaves himself as the example, Owen purposely fulfills his fate so that all can have their own, personal irony.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Blog 3# - Moral Pyromaniac?
"Iago, as Harold Goddard finely remarked, is always at war; he is a moral pyromaniac setting fire to all of reality.......In Iago, what was the religion of war, when he worshiped Othello as its god, has now become the game of war, to be played everywhere except upon the battlefield."
--Harold Bloom
To respond to this passage, one should mostly focus on the shift from a religion to a game. How would you prove that this insightful comment is true? Of course, in order to prove this idea is true, do not fail to incorporate the excellent idea of "a moral pyromaniac" in this shift.
--Harold Bloom
To respond to this passage, one should mostly focus on the shift from a religion to a game. How would you prove that this insightful comment is true? Of course, in order to prove this idea is true, do not fail to incorporate the excellent idea of "a moral pyromaniac" in this shift.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Blog post #1 - In the beginning...
Post a couple of passages from a novel, quote, short story, song lyric, etc. that you enjoy, find interesting, or reflects you in some way. Also, find a picture that may have some connection to you Try to avoid going to quotable quotes websites and finding some random quote. Think about the world which moves around you and your understanding of it. You should post something today to make sure your blog is up and running, and complete the post by Wednesday of next week. Below, I've chosen two passages from two novels:
"'Listen, every object's in flux. The Earth, time, concepts, love, life, faith, justice, evil -- they're all fluid and in transition. They don't stay in one form or in one place forever. The whole universe is like some big FedEx box." -- H. Murakami Kafka on the Shore
"When the mystery of the connection goes, love goes. It's that simple. This suggests that it isn't love that is so important to us but the mystery itself. The love connection may be merely a device to put us in contact with the mystery. It is contrary to the nature of mystery to stand still. We glimpse it when we stand still." -- T. Robbins Still Life of Woodpecker
"'Listen, every object's in flux. The Earth, time, concepts, love, life, faith, justice, evil -- they're all fluid and in transition. They don't stay in one form or in one place forever. The whole universe is like some big FedEx box." -- H. Murakami Kafka on the Shore
"When the mystery of the connection goes, love goes. It's that simple. This suggests that it isn't love that is so important to us but the mystery itself. The love connection may be merely a device to put us in contact with the mystery. It is contrary to the nature of mystery to stand still. We glimpse it when we stand still." -- T. Robbins Still Life of Woodpecker
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