Imitating a Legend

I think we can all agree that Holden Caulfield's narration of his week around Christmas is one of the most famous weeks for a teenager in literary history.  His voice is also very distinctive.  This weekend I've been working on the extra assignment trying to write a reflective response to Portrait in Holden's voice.  At first I was leaning towards doing just a standard plain voice and throw in lots of "and all" "goddam" and "that depressed me."  Until I started writing I hadn't looked to much into the voice-sure I knew it sounded different, a little older and slightly more elevated voice than Gunnar Kaufman's, but that what made it different was the words he loved to use.  I wrote two sentences, two sentences, before I realized that it's the whole way Holden looks at things, like how he doesn't mind digression, or he repeats an idea when he gets really excited by the idea that makes his voice so distinctive.

Then as I started writing and I was forced to make another decision.  As Mr. Mitchell said in class we had to decide which style of speech we wanted Holden to be speaking in.  I didn't want him to speak in such a conversational tone as in Catcher, it's supposed to be a school essay and all.  I read over the scene with Mr. Antolini, and in it they are witty and speak to each other more in a peer way than a student to teacher dynamic.  I decided to go with a semi-conversational tone for Holden because while he wouldn't be one to follow every guideline as to appropriate essay writing, he also is doing it for a grade for a teacher he cares about.  Once I started writing in his voice, it became easier to write in his voice, I almost didn't have to think about writing in a different voice than my own because it was a very natural voice.  It really just flowed, and once it did, it was really enjoyable to write in his voice.

A Sister's Influence

Towards the end of The Catcher in the Rye, Phoebe pretty much dominates Holden's thoughts.  There is the scene with Mr. Antolini, and the scene with the two little kids at the museum (looking for the toons) but the rest of the last few chapters are devoted to Holden's interactions with Phoebe.  Even before we ever meet her Holden tells us about her.  He obviously cares a lot about his family, he brings up Allie and D.B. a lot and he seems to not want to distress his mother, but he really focuses on Phoebe.  At first it seemed a little strange to me, a six year age difference at that point in his life is a big deal.  We see how his age ostracizes him from the kids at the playground when he goes to look for her.  He knows he's too old to really hang out with them, and they definitely know it, but with Phoebe it's just different.  When he breaks down in her room, the way he describes it makes her almost appear to be the older sibling, she's comforting him on the edge of the bed as he struggles to control himself.

People in class threw around the idea that she represents the aspects of childhood that Holden wants to keep a hold of in his attempt to avoid the phoniness he equates with being an adult.  While I agree that Holden wants to keep alive his childhood by being with her, I think her personality has a large part to do with it.  If you look throughout his week that Catcher covers, almost all of his complaints are about the different traits of people in his life.  Holden is annoyed by Stradlater because he is a secret slob as he puts it (27), the girls at the club because only one of them can really dance (74), and then Sally and Sunny because they aren't good conversationalists (96,128).  Then, when it seems like Holden can't find anyone who matches all his criteria, we meet Phoebe.  He tells us she's really smart, a great dancer, can lie through her teeth, and she can clearly keep up with him in any conversation (165,175,177).  Phoebe is the opposite of practically everything Holden dislikes in other people.  By spending time with her, he can reaffirm to himself that not only is childhood more real than adulthood, but that there are people out there who are everything he's looking for in another person.

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.