Let down yourself or your parents?

Perhaps the hardest thing for a teenager to do is not what there parents don't want them to do, but refusing to do what their parents want them to do.  So we see Stephen at the end of Chapter four.  He has rejected the director's offer to join the Order of the Jesuits, and instead has decided to attend university.  Most of us probably applauded him when we read this scene, for not allowing other's expectation to push him away from what we ultimately assume will be his profession: art.  I was certainly one of those people cheering him on, I could see that he'd matured beyond trying to be the one everyone looks up to and says "That Stephen Dedalus, I wish I could be more like him."  So far it seems to work out great for him, in the end of the chapter Stephen finally feels an emotion for another human being.  At the start of Chapter five he has friends at school, and while he seems to not be loving taking his classes he does seem content where he is.

Yet looking back at his family's reaction to his decision not to join the Order, it doesn't seem like such a good one.  When he come's home from being summoned by the director to see all of his little siblings alone in the house with dregs of tea, it is because his parents are "Goneboro toboro lookboro atboro aboro houseboro" (177).  Later his sister tells him it's because the landlord is kicking them out, and Stephen sees how "Even before they set out on life's journey they seemed weary already of the way" (177).  Clearly his family has continued to fall on harder and harder times financially, but Mr. Dedalus keeps Stephen in a very nice Jesuit school.  Stephen's siblings will never be able to get the level of education he got which they all seem to accept, but most of his family don't seem to think he's using that education in the best way.  His mother really doesn't like the idea, with Stephen picking up that "Yes, his mother was hostile to the idea, as he had read from her listless tone" (178).  Though maybe Stephen's decision to go to university will lead to more money further in his life, it seems that for his family the honor they would've had, had Stephen decided to join the Order, would've made all the sacrifices the family made for him worth it-and somehow by him refusing-he has to some degree rejected all that his family has done for him.  I still believe Stephen made the right decision for him personally, but I guess I no longer think he would have been making solely a selfish decision by choosing to join the Order.  

Narcissism or Insecurity?

In third hour yesterday we were discussing the scene were Stephen writes his first poem (pages 73 and 74), and it seemed like the general consensus of the class was that it was an illustration of the narcissism of the artist.  The more I pondered this scene though, the more the narcissism designation seemed improper.  I concluded later that I think this scene shows us that Stephen, and the new artist in general, is very insecure about his work.  Stephen is portrayed as being insecure during his year at Clongowes, but by Chapter 2 he is the more confident leader of a gang.  But then there's this scene with him trying to write a poem about this girl he met at a party whom he rode home with but without working up the courage to kiss her.

Mr. Mitchell said in class that Byron's convention of titling a poem about a women with only her initials was to protect the identity of the married women Byron was having affairs with.  Stephen, nor this mystery girl (who we later learn is Emma), would be married at this point and it wasn't like anything happened-he didn't even kiss her.  Though it could be Stephen was only trying to emulate his literary hero, this style of title also conveniently served the purpose of keeping his personal relation to her hidden.  To anyone reading his poem, E----C---- could just be a figment of his imagination, much in the way Mercedes is in his head after reading The Count of Monte Cristo.  He also drops all the sensory details, something which he had focused on in the past, in favor of telling of "the night and the balmy breeze and the maiden lustre of the moon" (Joyce 74). He practically takes all details about the inspirational moment of his ride with Emma out, leaving only a general love poem to hide his emotions about the event.

Not only does Stephen lose almost all detail in the poem, the physical way that he writes the poem makes him appear insecure.  He sits in his room for hours, long after most of the people in the house would have left for the day.  Then, as soon as he finishes it, he hides the book (74).  Instead of looking over the poem he has just composed, he flees to his mother's bedroom to watch himself.  This is the first poem he's ever finished, so for someone who values his intellectual prowess, you would think he would want to show it off so it's strange that he wants to act like it never even happened. 

Coming of Age: A New Beginning

A few days ago in class we had a writing prompt to talk about what coming of age meant to us.  Growing up in a large extended Jewish family, coming of age is a defined moment.  For a Jewish boy the Bar Mitzvah is the key event that represents his ascension into adulthood.  There are lots of religious things that come along with being an adult but I won't go into that.  But the thing about coming of age in Jewish religion and culture, is that from the moment you are born people are talking about it and preparing you for it.  You don't really get to pick when it is, it just happens at one Sabbath when you are thirteen.  And once its over, BOOM, its like you're part of a whole different club.  People look at you different and you're expected to do things you've never had to do before.  It can be stressful with all the new found responsibilities, but its also really exciting.

Stephen Dedalus, in Portrait I suppose isn't as lucky as I was (or depending on how you look at it maybe he had it better).  In his life so far, there hasn't been one day where he's come of age in the eyes of the world.  For his parents, it seems that once he returned from boarding school and was allowed to sit at the Christmas dinner table for the first time, he has come of age.  He's expected to sit and eat politely, yet when he tries to act like he understands all the political rhetoric being thrown around the table his father turns to him and says, "What are you laughing at, you little puppy, you?" (27)  Stephen takes another step towards coming of age when he leads a gang of boys over the summer, but I still couldn't say he's come of age.  I have a feeling that throughout the book there will never be a point where the reader can say "This is the moment where Stephen has come of age," instead it will be a gradual change that will be hard to notice until the end, when all of a sudden we see a matured Stephen who has certainly come of age and are forced to wonder when we missed it.

Evolving Loyalties

When Beloved enters Sethe and Denver's life, she messes up the dynamic even more than when Paul D did. Many readers in my class at least, believed that she was the living form of the dead baby that had haunted 124.  On page 89 we get confirmation.  Denver figures it out, and Beloved admits it.  But when Denver tells Beloved not to tell Sethe about who she is, Beloved snaps, saying, "Don't tell me what to do.  Don't you never never tell me what to do" (89).  Beloved goes on to say, "She is the one I need.  You can go but she is the one I have to have" (89).  I was surprised by both characters reactions, but I didn't think much of it until later when they go to the clearing Baby Suggs used to preach at.  Denver believes Beloved caused Sethe to choke, and Beloved's only response is, "Look out, girl" (119).  This left me wondering why Denver doesn't immediately run and tell Sethe.  Beloved appears violent towards the one thing she wants, Sethe, so there's no telling what she'll do to someone like Paul D.  Instead, Denver chases after Beloved to try to make up.  She seems to care more about continuing a new friendship than protecting her mother, and sole companion of ten years.

This issue of loyalty has become somewhat of a theme throughout Beloved so far.  When Paul D first arrives,  Sethe must pick, does she remain loyally alone, in solidarity with Denver's perpetual loneliness, or does she welcome this man from her past.  She must then completely abandon her loyalty to Halle, when she invites Paul D to stay a while.  I didn't find either of these decisions to override total loyalty too strange.  When she decides to show more love attention towards Beloved than Denver, I was a little more surprised.  Denver has been the loyal daughter towards Sethe, she hasn't run away like her brothers, nor does she make trouble, she's just is a constant in Sethe's life.  But as soon as Beloved comes, Sethe begins to open up to the stranger more so than she ever did with Denver.  Maybe Sethe has figured out who Beloved is, she surely must have her suspicions, and that's why she is so openly loving towards Beloved, versus her normal shortness with Denver.  Whatever her motives, it's clear that Sethe is no longer as loyal towards Denver as she once was, and in that context, Denver's lack of loyalty towards Sethe is much more understandable.      

Ain't Nothin' But a Hound Dog

Your typical love story depicts romantic love, a bond between two people that through trials and tribulations grows over time.  It seems like the characters you want to get together always do, and they ride off into the sunset together.  All the Lonely People is not that kind of love story.  Dennis, the protagonist, at every turn is telling us how pathetic and dependent everyone else around him is, except Gerald, yet he isn't a "lion" like he says, he's what he would deem a "real hunter," or maybe not even a member of that group.

We first meet Dennis in a cafe, late at night, talking with Alfred.  Alfred immediately seems like the down-trodden one of the pair-spilling his guts to this man he doesn't really know in a coffee shop.  We see Dennis attract the attention of a woman, causing him to leave the cafe after her.  Dennis lights her cigarette, but then walks immediately away from her.  What I initially took as aloofness on Dennis' part, by the end of the story I think was a lack of confidence.  He left her before she could possibly leave him, therefore maintaining his belief that he can be selective about who he goes out with.  Betty, the girl who Dennis expects the night Alfred comes over, doesn't come, instead postponing their rendezvous, but he is so desperate for her he said he, "was prepared to lie relentlessly just to have her there that one night" (148).  That's not quite the type of behavior you would expect of a lion who is being hunted.  Dennis becomes so desperate that week, that he needs his friend Gerald to set him up with Gloria, a "community chest" as they described her.  Yet Dennis can't even close this deal, one that Gerald has practically set in his lap.

Dennis isn't a lion.  He is not hunted by others, and he's too ashamed to be a real hunter so instead he subtly uses his friends to hunt for him.  He judges everyone around him, which to me makes him worse than anybody who he's deemed below him.  Even in the last section when he finally begins to examine himself, he still has to judge Alfred for not being home at 2:00 a.m. though he then goes to the old coffee shop at 3:00 a.m. and sits alone.  Dennis is the saddest character of them all, not because he doesn't have girls hunting him, but because he has to put down everyone else to construct his self-superiority.    

With Friends Like This

The ending of White Boy Shuffle was strange, very strange.  The saddest part for me was Chapter 12 when Scoby goes over the edge and kills himself.  While reading those five or so pages where we see Scoby go from "bizarre" (203) behavior to killing himself, I couldn't help but yell at Gunnar in my head.  What was he doing when his best friend was all but telling him flat out that he wanted to kill himself?  Scoby asks him, "To kill yourself you don't need a permit or anything like that, do you?" (204) then leaves his cassette player on the beach with Sarah Vaughan still playing.  Every reader at this point has to know that Scoby is going to jump off the law school building, and Gunnar certainly has to know, but instead of going to stop his friend, he drinks beer, listens to jazz, and writes a poem on the train ride home.

At first I didn't blame Gunnar, I figured he was probably in denial that Scoby would even consider killing himself.  But now that I think about it, my theory is that Gunnar wanted Scoby to commit suicide.  He makes the statement that, "I ain't ready to die for anything, so I guess I'm just not fit to live.  In other words, I'm just ready to die.  I'm just ready to die" (200), but after saying that, he's receives huge cheers calling for him to become the leader.  Later, when he returns to Hillside, he is the unofficial leader of Hillside (with Physco Loco's help) and the budding leader of angry people everywhere.  He knows, while he is still in Boston, that he can't kill himself, he means to much to too many people.  Then the only way for his suicide pact to not look totally hypocritical is for him to lose someone close to him, and Scoby is perfect for that role.  People know about Scoby, the perfect basketball player, and they know that he and Gunnar have been best friends for years, so for Gunnar to lose someone so close to him to suicide shows that he's all in, saying these things from a leadership position isn't a game to him, he means every word because it's real to him.  Though in fact, he doesn't take being a leader so seriously, his public actions (like cutting off his finger) keep up his serious leader persona, and make Scoby's death seem all the more convenient.

Rooting for Bangers

In almost every other book I've read I've known who to root against, or at least not to really pull for.  In a lot of these books I find myself rooting against gang members, as in these books they normally terrorize the main characters or kill innocent people.  But in White Boy Shuffle that's who Gunnar is turning into, and certainly who Psycho Loco is.  He is introduced to us as the leader of the Gun Totin' Hooligans, and as being, "home on parole for killing a paramedic who refused to give his piranha Esta Lleno mouth-to-mouth resuscitation" (Beatty 84).  Later we hear that a big part of Gunnar's favors to Psycho Loco consists of "My backyard became a burial ground for missing evidence; warm guns and blood-rusted knives" (Beatty 97).  In real life Psycho Loco, or Gunnar, is not the kind of random stranger I would walk up to and start talking to on the street.

Even with their less than legal and nice behavior at some points, I can't help but root for them.  When they went to attack the rival gang (who didn't do anything wrong this time) I was rooting for No M.O's balloons to find their mark, and when one of the Ghost Town guys shoots at them with a shotgun I feared one of them would be hit.  I laughed when they were rolling through a nice neighborhood smashing cars indiscriminately.  Maybe the reason I like these characters so much is because of how outrageous some of their actions are, like killing a paramedic for not reviving a fish, or maybe it's because of how human they are.  When Physco Loco is in Gunnar's bathroom crying hysterically I saw a side of him I haven't ever seen before, normally the calm and calculated leader, his actions seem more like the Gunnar we saw fresh out of the car from Santa Monica.  So far it seems to me that Paul Beatty does such a successful job showing people like us who live in a largely protected small town (compared to LA) what it was like to grow up an African-American male in the inner city in large part due to this humor and compassion that he brings out in seemingly hardened main characters.