Tuesday, September 28, 2010

confusing political debate

In his article, George F. Will suggests that academics are rendering their readings to an unrecognizable state, reinterpreting the original to a state that is undistinguishable to its everyday audience. Stephen Greenblatt replies back with an article of his own, arguing that there is a far greater risk if academics refuse to question about the past, since the understanding and recognition of literary and political issues are needed to deepen the reader’s insights.
The argument I would have to agree with would be Greenblatt’s, because I believe that what he argues about is true. Unlike his, Will’s argument seems a little more impossible to me. Maybe the fog of sleep is getting to me, but what Will argues about does not seem to reach my agreement, nor even reach me; I am partially confused with what he is arguing about half the time. Except from what he tells of Carol Iannone, only some of his writing got across to me. For example, I think I get it when he states that “by attacking the meaning of literary works, critics strip literature of its authority” (Will 112).  By “attacking the meaning,” it would mean for people to have read and studied the meaning, and therefore replace with their own interpretation, right? And because everyone has their own opinions and their own view on things, our interpretations would differentiate if not the same, right? Maybe, I do not get this line as much as I claim to because why would having one’s own interpretation “strip literature” of its own powers? Literature has its own ways of spelling out what it means with words of feeling, phrases of imagery, symbols, etc, but cannot we all analyze our readings differently still? By rendering a reading, would we not understand it more? Or am I not even close to Will’s train of argument?
Although Will’s article is harder, still, for me to understand, I find Greenblatt’s to be easier and more compatible with what I believe. In his article, he states that “art… is not cement. It is mobile, complex, elusive, disturbing.  A love of literature may help to forge community, but it is a community founded on imaginative freedom, the play of language, and scholarly honesty, and not on flag waving, boosterism, and conformity” (Greenblatt 115). The freedom of speech is at work here or should be at work. Whatever we think of cannot be tamed with our professor’s values or point of view; unless we are on the wrong train of thought; in a way, this reminds me of our multiple choice questions. Anyways, the curriculum of literary scholars should not be built of uniformity because there are several ways in which people can make their argument. Like how there are several roads in which our lives can head to, or like how we have not one but many choices to life, or something of the sort. Literature is not meant to be tamed, quite, or grey; it should be like something of a painting with expression shown through every shape and color.
I know this has been very off topic, but I could not exactly get to the point, so... sorry for a poor analysis.

Monday, September 20, 2010

postcolonialism and tempest

A few days ago in class, we began a discussion similar to this blog about what Miranda meant with the word “savage.” Of course, who’s to say what a savage is when one cannot see one’s self. But concerning this discussion, in history, it has been written down and shown throughout Hollywood specials what a “savage” really is. According to those back then, the savages were uncivilized natives who slaughtered and massacred other white men; “they [were] vicious killers, all of them; they [are not] even humans” (The Great Sioux Massacre [1965]). Then again, these lines are just stereotypes made for the perfect American story. 
Upon reading Act II and III of The Tempest and the article of postcolonialism, however, I found parallels concerning Caliban’s similarity to natives and how others came to label him as a “savage”. For example, in Act II, Trinculo encounters Caliban for the first time and commented that “in England this strange monster would be just like a man” (Shakespeare Act II, Scene 2). Just like how Miranda had called him a savage, Trinculo calls Caliban a monster; with Trinculo from another place entirely, it would be normal to find surprise and maybe awe at the newly discovered individual; however, immediately after his first sight, Trinculo names him the most vulgar of names. Shakespeare might have created an unfair stereotype of “others” to give us the image of how he portrayed this Caliban character, and with this image he creates, it does give us the sense of colonization and how the white man is superior. But then, incidents like this has happened throughout history where stereotypes were put onto a populace according to how they lived, what environment they lived in, and what their physical appearance was like; in colonial times, natives were labeled according to how different they were. With the images of the white man in superiority, consider the article when it says that “many British people believed that Great Britain was destined to rule the world,” and had an assumption that “Western Europeans… were biologically superior to any other race” (“Cultural Studies” 236). Going back to the quote I used up there, Trinculo also mentions that he is from England, which further reveals that Shakespeare tries to portray the image of this postcolonialism to his readers through his play. With these stereotypes, Shakespeare represents the people of the colonial days, and maybe with his labels, allows others to sympathize with these characters.   

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

tempest act one

In the first act of The Tempest, Prospero constructs historical narratives and manipulates those around him by using their emotions against them. He narrates his stories at his angle of view and is always changing his nature depending on who he is talking to. He manipulates not only his servants but his daughter too. For example, before he explains to Miranda what his brother stole from him, Prospero described his brother as someone “whom- aside from [her] - [he] loved more than anyone else in the world” (Shakespeare 4). Prospero deliberately throws this image at Miranda, forcing her emotions to unconsciously churn. Because she has no knowledge of any relative, her love pours purely for the thought of having one; however, after hearing the painful past, her love for this unfamiliar relative transforms instead into compassion for her father’s pain. With this, Prospero sets up the perfect scene in which he is the pitiful hero. Also, as Prospero talks with Ariel, he brings up Ariel’s tender past, reminding him of what those days were like, and threatened to “split an oak tree and lock [him] up in it” (13). Prospero is in control because he holds the truth; he takes Ariel’s past and brings forth the fear that hides deep within his heart. By utilizing that fear, he lets him know who is in control and what torment can take place if orders are not followed. In addition, as Caliban explains to Prospero how his love for him changed, Prospero quickly denies his faults and redirects the conversation, bringing up the incident where Caliban “tried to rape [his] daughter” (16). By redirecting the conversation, he takes control over the emotions that come of it, and controls over the conversation itself. With the words coming from his own mouth, he is able to maintain reality in how he sees it; he holds the truth and utilizes it however he wants to, taking control of them with their emotions.

Monday, September 6, 2010

a one-sided story

     With only a single story, the truth lies in the hands of the speaker. Through the speaker’s eyes, the world is seen at an angle. His view on the world may not be at the same angle of everyone else’s, but that is the beauty of human minds; our minds are not meant to function uniformly, even robots have the possibilities of malfunctioning. Therefore, just because an event has happened, it does not mean that the event will go unbiased. Many stories will be told and passed around, others will be written down, and some will go untold. Because a single story is an incomplete story, the truth is vague and measured upon one’s feelings, and therefore, dangerous.     
     In single stories, you hear from only one side as if the other ear is clogged. Like how we give a blind eye to the unwanted, we are giving the blind eye to the other side of a complete story, setting up barriers to what truth we want to keep and what truth we want out; this extinguishes the chances of being able to learn the whole truth. Narrators and storytellers are good examples as to how one can construct a story. They may read lines and recite phrases from a story, but when the time comes, to make things more appropriate, they change the story around. In Orwell’s 1984, the government is somewhat like the narrator of a story; although the people have the books in their hands, the government ad-libs along the way, changing history with the people’s unconscious consent. The government has the truth and the stories, but they respond by giving out one story, and all is depended upon that. 
     As history goes down, either in writing or in words, it descends in the same pattern, repeating after one another, following the one story made from the start. They trail behind the story that began it all and create a cycle of one-sided truths, consequently, like what Adichie said, making one story the only story.