I would say that this was a good week in English. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I enjoyed all the stories ("Battle Royal" was disturbing to say the least), but I had no problem getting through them all (while in previous weeks, *cough* Flannery O’Connor *cough,* it was more of a challenge). "Harrison Bergeron" by Kurt Vonnegut was by far my favorite. While it was at times frustrating to read because of the utterly pathetic existence the characters lead, it raises a good point (true “equality" has its flaws) and keeps the reader engaged until the very the end.
In the story, the futuristic society is virtually dominated by Diana Moon Glompers, the “Handicapper General” who enforces laws that guarantee that all citizens are equal in every possible way. In this country, "nobody was smarter than anybody else. Nobody was better looking than anybody else. No one was stronger or quicker than anybody else" (1). Glompers's methods of leveling society are painful at best. The handicaps that George Bergeron, a man who is considered to be above average both mentally and physically, are required to wear include forty-seven pounds of birdshot in a bag around his next and a mental handicap radio in his ear that scramble his thoughts by emitting loud and irritating sounds every twenty seconds. Hazel Bergeron, George’s wife who is incapable of thinking “about anything except in short bursts” (3), represents the “average” person as shown by her lack of handicaps. In today’s society, Hazel’s attention span would be comparable to that of someone with untreated ADD. She is a nice person, sympathetic towards the handicaps that have been placed on her husband, but completely clueless. She confides that she is jealous of not being able to hear all the interesting sounds that those with mental handicaps can hear, even though George constantly expresses how painful the sounds are. Unlike George, who has the capacity to realize the injustice of his situation but who is prevented from doing so by his radio, she is simply too dull to do anything. For example, when the characters begin to question the rigid governmental regulations, they are unable to get very far because George’s radio and Hazel’s stupidity get in the way. Perhaps the most frustrating fact is that the people of this fictional country chose their own fate: the “equality was due to the 211th, 212th, and 213th Ammendments to the Constiution,” meaning that the people themselves must have voted on the laws.
Even though the story is somewhat maddening, as readers, we have a hard time putting it down. Vonnegut keeps us completely enthralled using hope, a clever method indeed. He follows each pitiable description of the character’s existence with an occurrence or conversation that makes us think that their situation will get better, only to follow it with another downward plunge. Following the initial introduction of the characters and their lives, George begins to think about his son (raising the reader’s sense of hope), only to have the sound of a “twenty-one-gun salute” erupt in his ears (20). However, Hazel then begins to express sympathy for her husband, and suggests that he remove some of the lead balls from his physical handicap. George goes on to ask, “The minute people start cheating on laws, what do you think happens to society?” (31). As readers, we are extremely excited at this point, anticipating a real break through and, to the optimistic reader, a potential underground uprising. But we are once again disappointed as the sound of a siren fills George’s ears and he forgets the conversation.
The ultimate let down comes at the climax of the story. Harrison Bergeron, an extraordinary boy who has been swathed in every handicap imaginable, stages an uprising on national television. He rips off his burdens, frees one of the ballerinas to become his Empress, instructs the musicians to play their best, and declares himself the Emperor. As the Emperor and his Empress dance and fly and kiss, Diana Moon Glompers (the Handicapper General) enters onto the scene and shoots and kills the Emperor and the Empress. As readers, we stop and think “what?! That is NOT how it was supposed to end!” But by this point, the story is pretty much over so it’s too late to stop reading.
The big question is: why did Harrison, a boy with super-human strength, intelligence, and good looks, fail? Perhaps his biggest shortcoming was his own arrogance. In creating such a public uprising and simply declaring himself the Emperor in such a spectacular fashion, he almost guarantees his downfall. Even so, we reach the end of the story with a look of disbelief on our faces, as Vonnegut is able to play to our sense of hope until the very last part of the story. (806)
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
In Grocery Store of Societal Discord: A Look at Updike's "A & P"
John Updike’s “A & P” is not merely a descriptive piece about three teenager’s scandalous outing to a grocery store. In the tale, three indecently-dressed girls walk into the local A & P, outraging the “regulars” of the store; however, the story that unfolds contains a social commentary about societal norms and authority. Updike’s descriptions and portrayals of his characters give us insight into his opinions. Furthermore, his use of the first-person through the character Sammy gives us a relatively innocent lens through which to view the story.
The first characters we are introduced to in the novel are the three girls: there is “this chunky one, with the two-piece,” the tall one who has the kind of appearance of someone who “never quite makes it,” and the Queen with her “long white prima-donna legs” (2). These girls are the rebels in the novel. They break societal norms by walking in a grocery store wearing nothing but there bathing suits even though they are five miles from the beach. The chaos, by the standards of a small grocery story, that soon follows provides a setting in which the true colors of the characters come out.
Updike’s negative portrayal of the “regulars” in the store shows a disdain for the “masses.” He describes one of the shoppers in the story as, “one of these cash-register-watchers, a witch about fifty with rouge on her cheekbones and no eyebrows, and I know it made her day to trip me up” (1). Updike’s use of metaphor (“a witch of about fifty”) makes the character come alive and we can picture her exactly. She is not just an irritating, overly-made up, middle-aged woman, but a witch. Cash-register-watcher is our first glimpse into Updike’s opinion of the “regulars” in the store. He later describes them simply as “sheep pushing their carts down the aisle” (5), a possible reference to Orwell’s Animal Farm in which the masses on the farm are represented by sheep.
The description of Lengel, the store manager who is “pretty much dreary, teaches Sunday school and the rest, but he doesn’t miss that much” (12), shows a dislike of the power-hungry pseudo-authority figure who likes to throw his weight around. Lengel overreacts to the situation presented in the story and is unnecessarily rude to the girls. Although they should not have come into the store without clothing in the first place, Lengel’s behavior to them is overly harsh. He acts condescending, saying “we want you decently dressed when you come in here” (16). As readers, we can almost hear his voice dripping with aloofness. His treatment of the girls indicates a misuse of power in this situation.
From Sammy’s perspective, he is the hero of the story. He stands up for the girls by quitting his job after Lengel’s embarrassment of them. However, was his action really heroic? The girls have already been embarrassed at this point in the story; the damage has already been done. Sammy’s actions are more after-the-fact, and he has somewhat selfish motives: he wants the girls to notice him. He is representative of the social climber, going to drastic lengths (quitting his job) to be noticed. But at the end, the girls walk out of the store without even noticing his “heroic” act and give him little attention beyond paying for their herring snacks.
While Sammy is not necessarily the most reliable narrator (his opinions are clearly going to be told from the biased perspective of a teenage boy), he is a very astute observer, and his descriptions give us insight into the people he is describing, his own character, and the thoughts and opinions of John Updike. (610)
The first characters we are introduced to in the novel are the three girls: there is “this chunky one, with the two-piece,” the tall one who has the kind of appearance of someone who “never quite makes it,” and the Queen with her “long white prima-donna legs” (2). These girls are the rebels in the novel. They break societal norms by walking in a grocery store wearing nothing but there bathing suits even though they are five miles from the beach. The chaos, by the standards of a small grocery story, that soon follows provides a setting in which the true colors of the characters come out.
Updike’s negative portrayal of the “regulars” in the store shows a disdain for the “masses.” He describes one of the shoppers in the story as, “one of these cash-register-watchers, a witch about fifty with rouge on her cheekbones and no eyebrows, and I know it made her day to trip me up” (1). Updike’s use of metaphor (“a witch of about fifty”) makes the character come alive and we can picture her exactly. She is not just an irritating, overly-made up, middle-aged woman, but a witch. Cash-register-watcher is our first glimpse into Updike’s opinion of the “regulars” in the store. He later describes them simply as “sheep pushing their carts down the aisle” (5), a possible reference to Orwell’s Animal Farm in which the masses on the farm are represented by sheep.
The description of Lengel, the store manager who is “pretty much dreary, teaches Sunday school and the rest, but he doesn’t miss that much” (12), shows a dislike of the power-hungry pseudo-authority figure who likes to throw his weight around. Lengel overreacts to the situation presented in the story and is unnecessarily rude to the girls. Although they should not have come into the store without clothing in the first place, Lengel’s behavior to them is overly harsh. He acts condescending, saying “we want you decently dressed when you come in here” (16). As readers, we can almost hear his voice dripping with aloofness. His treatment of the girls indicates a misuse of power in this situation.
From Sammy’s perspective, he is the hero of the story. He stands up for the girls by quitting his job after Lengel’s embarrassment of them. However, was his action really heroic? The girls have already been embarrassed at this point in the story; the damage has already been done. Sammy’s actions are more after-the-fact, and he has somewhat selfish motives: he wants the girls to notice him. He is representative of the social climber, going to drastic lengths (quitting his job) to be noticed. But at the end, the girls walk out of the store without even noticing his “heroic” act and give him little attention beyond paying for their herring snacks.
While Sammy is not necessarily the most reliable narrator (his opinions are clearly going to be told from the biased perspective of a teenage boy), he is a very astute observer, and his descriptions give us insight into the people he is describing, his own character, and the thoughts and opinions of John Updike. (610)
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Interpreter of a MadLady (Expectations vs. Reality)
We have always been taught to “make a good first impression,” that the impression we make when first meeting someone will be their impression of us forever. However, Jhumpa Lahiri’s “Interpreter of Maladies” is an examination of the idea that lasting impressions can take time to cement. In the story, Mr. Kapasi’s and Mrs. Das’s views of each other go through a whirlwind transformation, and an entire relationship is formed, altered, and ended over the course of a few hours. The tale is a representation of how our impressions can change when founded not on reality, but rather on hopes.
The story’s use of a third-person narrator that allows us into the mind of Mr. Kapasi helps to magnify the gap between Mr. Kapasi’s expectations and the reality. Through his eyes, we see Mrs. Das as an Americanized Indian woman: wearing American clothes, a boyish haircut, and large pink-tinted sunglasses. She is both familiar and foreign at the same time. He notices that her accent sounds “just like the ones… [he] heard on American television programs” (49), and is confused by her use of English colloquialisms, unsure of how to respond to the word “neat” (70). At the beginning of the story, Mr. Kapasi is simply an observer of the lives of the Das family, a transient companion, if even that. His observations depict a woman who is somewhat indifferent to her children and husband, as Mrs. Das seems bored by her surroundings. She smiles at Mr. Kapasi “without displaying any interest in him” (2), paints her nails while ignoring her daughter’s request to participate (34), and stares absently out of the window and at the sky (51). The relationship between the two characters is professional at best, and virtually nonexistent.
Mr. Kapasi’s hopes for a relationship with Mrs. Das begin to form when Mrs. Das shows an interest in his work as an interpreter in a doctor’s office. At this point in the story, we do not know why Mrs. Das is so interested in Mr. Kapasi’s profession, only that she continues to ask for more and more details and calls the job “romantic” (61). Her use of the word “romantic,” a sentiment that is so clearly lacking in Mr. and Mrs. Das’s relationship, triggers Mr. Kapasi’s internal monologue of his failing relationship with his wife. Though Mrs. Das clearly wants something, Mr. Kapasi’s own expectations, founded on his desperation for a fulfilling relationship, lead him to take his fantasy of having a meaningful correspondence with Mrs. Das much farther than what is realistic. This section of the story marks the beginning of the height of the connection between the characters. Because their “relationship,” as Mr. Kapasi views it, is based solely on hope, it is easily destroyed only a few hours later when reality sets in.
The final downfall of the relationship occurs when Mrs. Das decides to confide in Mr. Kapasi, and Mr. Kapasi’s expectations are shattered. During Mrs. Das’s story, Mr. Kapasi cannot look her in the eye and is confused as to why she is telling him this information (145). Clearly, his hopes are very different from her intentions. He is disturbed “to learn that she thought of him as a parent,” making him feel self conscious and causing his feelings for her to continue to evaporate (147). The reason for Mrs. Das’s confession becomes clear when she explains that Mr. Kapasi’s job as an interpreter includes suggesting a remedy for her problems. He feels insulted “that Mrs. Das should ask him to interpret her common, trivial little secret” (161). Their opinions of one another are finally on a similar plane when Mr. Kapasi asks, “Is it really pain you feel, Mrs. Das, or is it guilt?” (161). At this stage, they both finally understand the reality of their situation, and that their expectations and hopes for one another were not at all similar: Mr. Kapasi wanted companionship, while Mrs. Das wanted a way to curb her feelings of guilt.
Mr. Kapasi’s lasting impression of Mrs. Das is finally cemented after learning the realities of her life. His indifference towards Mrs. Das’s losing of his address, her obtaining of which was one of the causes of his infatuation in the first place, is a symbol of his transition from indifference to intoxication to disillusionment. Perhaps in the case of Mrs. Das, Mr. Kapasi’s first impression was not far off. (737)
The story’s use of a third-person narrator that allows us into the mind of Mr. Kapasi helps to magnify the gap between Mr. Kapasi’s expectations and the reality. Through his eyes, we see Mrs. Das as an Americanized Indian woman: wearing American clothes, a boyish haircut, and large pink-tinted sunglasses. She is both familiar and foreign at the same time. He notices that her accent sounds “just like the ones… [he] heard on American television programs” (49), and is confused by her use of English colloquialisms, unsure of how to respond to the word “neat” (70). At the beginning of the story, Mr. Kapasi is simply an observer of the lives of the Das family, a transient companion, if even that. His observations depict a woman who is somewhat indifferent to her children and husband, as Mrs. Das seems bored by her surroundings. She smiles at Mr. Kapasi “without displaying any interest in him” (2), paints her nails while ignoring her daughter’s request to participate (34), and stares absently out of the window and at the sky (51). The relationship between the two characters is professional at best, and virtually nonexistent.
Mr. Kapasi’s hopes for a relationship with Mrs. Das begin to form when Mrs. Das shows an interest in his work as an interpreter in a doctor’s office. At this point in the story, we do not know why Mrs. Das is so interested in Mr. Kapasi’s profession, only that she continues to ask for more and more details and calls the job “romantic” (61). Her use of the word “romantic,” a sentiment that is so clearly lacking in Mr. and Mrs. Das’s relationship, triggers Mr. Kapasi’s internal monologue of his failing relationship with his wife. Though Mrs. Das clearly wants something, Mr. Kapasi’s own expectations, founded on his desperation for a fulfilling relationship, lead him to take his fantasy of having a meaningful correspondence with Mrs. Das much farther than what is realistic. This section of the story marks the beginning of the height of the connection between the characters. Because their “relationship,” as Mr. Kapasi views it, is based solely on hope, it is easily destroyed only a few hours later when reality sets in.
The final downfall of the relationship occurs when Mrs. Das decides to confide in Mr. Kapasi, and Mr. Kapasi’s expectations are shattered. During Mrs. Das’s story, Mr. Kapasi cannot look her in the eye and is confused as to why she is telling him this information (145). Clearly, his hopes are very different from her intentions. He is disturbed “to learn that she thought of him as a parent,” making him feel self conscious and causing his feelings for her to continue to evaporate (147). The reason for Mrs. Das’s confession becomes clear when she explains that Mr. Kapasi’s job as an interpreter includes suggesting a remedy for her problems. He feels insulted “that Mrs. Das should ask him to interpret her common, trivial little secret” (161). Their opinions of one another are finally on a similar plane when Mr. Kapasi asks, “Is it really pain you feel, Mrs. Das, or is it guilt?” (161). At this stage, they both finally understand the reality of their situation, and that their expectations and hopes for one another were not at all similar: Mr. Kapasi wanted companionship, while Mrs. Das wanted a way to curb her feelings of guilt.
Mr. Kapasi’s lasting impression of Mrs. Das is finally cemented after learning the realities of her life. His indifference towards Mrs. Das’s losing of his address, her obtaining of which was one of the causes of his infatuation in the first place, is a symbol of his transition from indifference to intoxication to disillusionment. Perhaps in the case of Mrs. Das, Mr. Kapasi’s first impression was not far off. (737)
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