Henrik Ibsen's "A Doll's House"

To be honest, Angry Black White Boy has not been my favorite, out of the novels we have read this semester. I dislike Macon as a supposedly heroic character and as an antagonistic protagonist. Nonetheless, for the purpose of this blog post, I dug around in my brain and found a single intriguing part of the novel to discuss. In the novel, Macon is forced one night to play Nora in a production of Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House.

This little tidbit of information caught my eye because, in my U of I class on Scandinavian History and Culture this past semester, I read, discussed, and analyzed the play with my classmates. It was an interesting read and led to some testy discussions. In the play, Nora Helmer, the main character is a middle-aged housewife who basically pretends to be a perfect wife in front of her husband, while sneaking sweets behind his back and slowly paying off a loan she (illegally) took out previously. The story goes that Nora, after being blackmailed by the worker in the bank who gave her the loan, admits to her husband what she has done and ends up leaving him and their children to go and find herself. Her explanation is that she has always been a doll, pretending to be a doll for her father before getting married and then for her husband after marriage. When she leaves her children and husband, she is giving herself an opportunity to not have to pretend and to discover herself. This ending was actually rather controversial and in at least one country, they refused to put on the play unless Ibsen gave them an alternate ending where Nora returned to her family.

Anyway, there is quite a bit of hidden meaning in Mansbach’s choice to cast Macon as Nora in the production of A Doll’s House. It implies that Macon has been pretending his whole life and acting as a doll for the communities he wishes to be involved with. And, as Nora leaves her family to find herself, Macon abandons his cause to rescind back into his expected position as a white guy in society. And, the added aspect of Macon being killed for supposedly not having abandoned his cause represents Nora’s alternative storyline where she loses herself once more and returns to her family and life as a doll in her own life-sized dollhouse.

"Things in Outside are tricksy"

At this point in Room, Jack is discovering lots of new things, some of which are only somewhat new to him, having been previously displayed on the TV, and some of which are entirely new to him. The way that he describes these new objects is very interesting and points to his overall attitude when it comes to things he doesn’t know.

Here are some examples from the beginning of the chapter “After” of objects which are new to Jack:

• “It’s dark but then there’s lights quick like fireworks” pg. 159

This is Jack’s description of the cameras taking photos. The interesting aspect of this description is the use of fireworks as his example. He has seen the use of fireworks on TV, probably on the Fourth of July, but he hasn’t seen cameras before. He also very aptly describes microphones as “black fat sticks.”

• “A thing like a spaceship all lit up with things inside all in their little squares like bags of chips and chocolate bars” pg. 160

There is little direct interpretation of Jack’s mental state to be taken from this quote other than the clear childishness in it and the absolute cuteness of his description. However, later when they pass the “amazing machine” again, Jack comments, “I wish I knowed the code to let them out” (161). This is a meaningful description because it clues the reader into how much Jack’s way of thinking has been influenced by Room, particularly the last little while he was in Room when he started realizing that they were really trapped and not having a wonderful life.

• "I don’t like a clever toilet looking at our butts.”

This quote is comedic, following Jack’s first interaction with an automatic toilet in the police station.

• “It’s a huge glass with corners but instead of cans and chocolate there’s fish alive, swimming and hiding with rocks” pg. 163-164

It’s incredible to see how quickly Jack’s mind adapts to new environments as he compares a new object to something else he was introduced to only a few minutes previously. Also, this quote makes Jack seem more like a normal child, as he is similarly pulled by the concept of fish swimming around a tank (ex. Fish tanks in dentist’s offices, doctor’s offices).

• “Things in Outside are tricksy” pg. 162

This is the quintessential statement, describing every new item and concept that Jack discovers during the next few days and all the time that he spends in Outside. Though I suspect he’ll learn more about his new world during the next while, I suspect it might take him a while to truly get over some of those Room-isms. 

"I was crying."

“I was crying.”

The last sentence of A Lesson Before Dying. Narrated by Grant as he returns to his classroom at the end of the book, it is a very meaningful and demonstrative sentence. It represents Grant’s character growth, both as a regular person in the story and as a heroic figure. Throughout the novel, I have struggled to view Grant as the hero (assuming, of course, that there can only be one hero), looking instead to Jefferson as the main heroic character. This final line reassured me of Grant’s heroism.

The aspects of a heroic journey are present throughout Grant’s story. At the beginning of the book, he repeatedly refuses the call before finally acquiescing. Even as he begins to visit Jefferson on a regular basis, he continues to refuse the call, acting like a stubborn teenager sneaking home after visits. In my opinion, Grant doesn’t fully accept the call until chapter 22, when he offers to bring Jefferson the radio. Before this, Grant seems more aloof to me, not putting effort into creating a connection with Jefferson. But, starting here, with the offer of a radio, Grant begins to strengthen his connection with Jefferson, convincing him to be more open to conversing with Miss Emma, bringing him treats, and offering him a way to express himself through writing. Though Grant does go against Paul’s advice and becomes close to Jefferson during this time, their connection is good for both of their heroic journeys.

Grant’s heroic journey is also not lacking in obstacles. From the physical obstacle of being searched at the jail to the mental obstacle of considering his work to be futile, Grant has to go through a lot in order to believe that he can make a difference in Jefferson’s life, and really in the lives of all of the residents of the community.

In the end, Jefferson becomes evidence of how teaching is not futile, how Grant had simply not been teaching the right things. In a way, I believe Reverend Ambrose was right, Grant did not understand people. He, like Jefferson, didn’t really understand what it was to care for someone. As Grant taught Jefferson that he was cared for, Jefferson taught Grant what it was to truly care for someone, not simply to depend on them. When Grant cries, he is acknowledging what he has learned and what he has taught, and I suspect, imagine, hope, that this influences how he teaches in the future. 

The Ku Klux Klan Scene in O Brother, Where Art Thou?

When we watched O Brother, Where Art Thou? in class, we arrived at the Ku Klux Klan scene right as class was ending. This allowed for quite a bit of stewing in my brain overnight, and right up until the movie started up in class again the next day. We had only just barely seen the heads of the KKK members and heard the beginning of their chanting and then Mr. Mitchell stopped the movie, saying that we would save this scene for tomorrow. Thinking about it later that day, I didn’t really know what to expect. With what level of seriousness would the Coen brothers approach this topic?

When we watched the scene the next day, I didn’t really know what to think. My first reaction was one of incredulousness. Singing and dancing Ku Klux Klan members? Then the logic-focused (yet very gullible) part of my brain kicked in with, “Did KKK members actually sing and dance?” In the end, though, it was clear the Coen Brothers had put a lot of thought into this scene. They were very exact with the organization of the Klan members, first having them dancing and singing while advancing in concentric circles, then doing some sort of bowing and partner dancing before marching in unison to form a white cross in the center of the group. This brought up the question for me: If they put so much work into this scene, what was their intention for its impact on the film? Was it intended to be comedic? Or symbolic? Or a mix of the two?

There does seem to be a certain degree of comedic value in the scene, however horrifying it is to imagine a Ku Klux Klan rally as being funny. There is first of all the general weirdly comedic aspect of the Klan members marching in unison and then there are several comedic sayings in the leader’s speech such as, “Let’s not forget those ladies, y ’all” and the leader’s statement that they need to protect their women from “all those smart-ass folks say we come descended from monkeys,” obviously referring to evolutionists. There is also the added comedic value of a lot of the actors playing the KKK members actually being African-Americans from a “formation troupe of military guys who march,” as remembered by Joel Coen. George Clooney similarly remembered, “You’d be at the craft services table and there’d be a bunch of black guys with Klan hoods getting food!” The concept of black Klansmen only further serves to increase the comedic value of the scene.

At the same time, the Ku Klux Klan scene is extremely symbolic, as a factor of the American mythology included in the film, as the only scene in the film where Tommy actually has a visible purpose, and as an obstacle for our three heroes. Without this scene, the movie would be lacking an essential aspect of early 20^th century American society, as this scene prompts the only discussion of black-white interactions in Mississippi at the time. This topic is otherwise mostly skipped over in the film, whose main characters are mostly white males.

In the end, my view of the KKK scene is mostly a comedic one. The scene offered an opportunity for major reflection and discussion of race, but this opportunity was mostly ignored (I can’t say I can see a way in which they could have brought this discussion into the film in a way that would still fit in with the comedic plot, but that’s why I’m not a filmmaker and they are!). Nonetheless, the KKK scene prompted the comedic with undertones of seriousness “miscegenation” scene near the end, and, the ironically comedic scene of Homer Stokes and his accomplice, whose name I don’t believe we are ever told, crumpling up their Klan hoods and throwing them in the car, at least the former of which is essential to the eventual pardoning of the characters and the overall conclusion of the film.

Quotes from Joel Coen and George Clooney are from this article: https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/o-brother-art-thou-george-828277

Questionable Morals

Throughout the first 21 books of the Odyssey, the reader is made to anticipate the ending, where Odysseus will finally get home and take revenge against the suitors. But upon arriving at book 22: Bloodshed, it isn’t necessarily obvious that Odysseus’ actions are entirely justified. Even more so, the way in which Odysseus takes his revenge makes his moral integrity a little weaker from the reader’s point of view.

It is entirely understandable that Odysseus wants to take revenge as he does in Book 22, after being informed by Tiresias in Book 11 that there were “invaders eating [his] supplies at home, courting [his] wife with gifts” (11. 118-119). Interestingly enough, it is also Tiresias who tells Odysseus that he will “match the suitors’ violence and kill them all” instead of Odysseus deciding to do so himself (11. 119-120). When Odysseus goes to take his revenge, he goes a little overboard. As we discussed in class, it seems like killing an entire generation of townspeople might be overdoing it a little. Plus, Odysseus ignores Leodes’ plea of mercy, a man known for having “disapproved of all their bullying” (21. 144). In Book 21, he specifically urged those who could not string Odysseus’ bow to leave and go court “some other fine, well dressed Greek lady” (21. 161). Despite this, when Leodes begs Odysseus for his life in Book 22, neither Athena nor Telemachus stand up for him and recognize his lack of involvement in the proceedings, unlike with the poet Phemius and the house boy Medon. Instead, he is, basically, convinced and executed for wishing that “[Odysseus’] wife would marry [Leodes] instead and bear [Leodes] children” (22. 324-5). What makes this scene particularly morally ambivalent is that Leodes is killed, not because of an abuse of xenia (that we know of), but rather because he even tried to court Penelope, something which, to our knowledge, would have been perfectly acceptable.

In addition to Odysseus, Book 22 adds some interesting moral ambivalence to Telemachus’ character; one who previously had been very sympathetic. In this book, Telemachus makes his first kill as part of the revenge fight with the suitors. Starting at line 89, Homer narrates,

Amphinomus attacked Odysseus. He drew his sharp sword hoping he could force him to yield his place. Telemachus leapt in and thrust his bronze spear through him from behind, ramming it through his back and out his chest (22. 89-93).

Along with Amphinomus being one of the more sympathetic and moral suitors, Homer has the added awkward detail of Telemachus stabbing Amphinomus in the back, something generally associated with cowards. This action completely destroys (at least in my opinion) the personal and moral growth that we have noted in Telemachus’ hero journey.

The end of book 22 contains possibly the most disturbing view of both Odysseus and Telemachus, as heroes and people in general. After killing all of the suitors, Odysseus asks Eurycleia which of the slave girls are loyal and which are not. He orders the men to have the disloyal slave girls clean up the bodies of the suitors and then to “hack at them with long swords, eradicate all life from them” (22. 443-4). After the slave girls have cleaned the bodies up Telemachus, “showing initiative,” suggests to instead hang the girls (22. 461). Homer describes their deaths as “agonies” and that “they gasped, feet twitching for a while, but not for long” (22. 473-4). This is both simply a disturbing description of their deaths, one possibly only beaten by Melanthius’ death, and a disturbing vision of Telemachus in his (ideal?) position as head of the house, mimicking his father’s cruelty when it comes to killing those involved in the courting of Penelope. There is also an interesting mix of views concerning the slave girls, as Odysseus, as he condemns them to death, implies that the “suitors made them do” things, while Telemachus, as he strings up rope with which to hang them, says that the girls “poured down shame on me and Mother, when they lay beside the suitors” (22. 444-5; 464-5). It is confusing as to how we should read it, but the perspective that makes the most sense to me is that Telemachus’ perspective is that of one who assumed that they were doing it voluntarily, while we were previously told that the suitors have raped the girls, a view with which Odysseus appears to agree. Why he still has them killed is not clear.

In the end, after reading Book 22, I do not feel satisfied. Though my view of Odysseus has gotten worse and worse as we have read further into The Odyssey, this was the crux of all the morally ambiguous and just cruel things he has done or endorsed. In addition, his willingness and enthusiasm to continue to fight against the townsmen in Book 24, inevitably killing another generation of the town, was horrifying to see from the supposed hero of the epic poem. While a case can be made that Odysseus, as the king of Ithaca returning at long last, needed to make a point in these acts of violence to discourage betrayal and show that he will harshly punish any who wrong him, one would think that, even for the people of ancient Greece, such a cruel and unforgiving character would not appeal as a hero.

Is it all Odysseus’ fault?

In class over the last couple of days, the question of fault has come up a lot. Particularly, we have discussed to what extent Odysseus is at fault for the events described in books 9-12, a rather complicated question to answer.

Throughout books 9-12, there are many situations where Odysseus is very obviously at fault for the deaths of his men. For example, he is told by Circe in book 12 that six of his men will be killed if he goes by Scylla. Odysseus does not tell his crew that some of them are fated to die, so they sail unknowingly in while Odysseus prepares himself to fight if necessary. The backstory to this is, of course, that if they had not gone past Scylla they would have passed Charybdis and all of them would have died, but it does seem like Odysseus shares a portion of the blame for this set of deaths, whether or not his crew is aware of it. There’s no telling what they would have done, had Odysseus told his crew that six of them would die, but he is not blameless in this situation.

Even more blame can be applied to him in the death of six more of his men earlier in book 9. Even though they have plenty of food on board their ships, supplied to them by the nymphs, Odysseus gathers twelve men to accompany him into Polyphemus’ cave. Even after failing to find Polyphemus, Odysseus, hoping “to see him, and find out if he would give us gifts” refuses to leave the cave, rejecting his companions’ idea to “grab some cheese and quickly drive the kids and lambs out of their pens and down to our swift ships, and sail away across the salty water,” an idea which he even tells Alcinous “would have been the better choice” (9. 223-229). As a result, when Polyphemus returns to his cave, he traps them within and, over the course of the next day, gobbles down six of the men who accompanied Odysseus. Though they do manage to escape Polyphemus in the end, the fault seems to clearly lie with Odysseus and these events also set question to the heroicness of Odysseus’ motives, seeming to be an abuse of xenia similar to that of the suitors in Ithaca.

Poseidon’s cursing of Odysseus’ journey home, occurring almost immediately after their escape from the cave, is also something for which Odysseus should take full blame. Though a case can be made that perhaps the first taunting is semi-justified, there is no reason, other than pride, for the second taunting. Even after his crew begs him to stop, Odysseus can’t help but taunt Polyphemus again, revealing his name (as well as his father’s name and that he lives in Ithaca, facts which seem rather unnecessary). Because of this taunt, Polyphemus recognizes Odysseus for the man fated to blind him and successfully prays for Poseidon to curse Odysseus’ journey home. It is easy to claim that, had Odysseus not taunted Polyphemus, the travelers would have reached home much sooner.

You’re probably thinking, “Lia, it pretty much sounds like Odysseus is totally to blame. . . Where are you going with this?”

Well, here are some situations in which Odysseus either cannot be blamed or is only partially to blame:

After leaving Polyphemus, Odysseus and his crew arrive at the “floating island of Aeolus” who gives Odysseus a bag of wind to blow him and his crew home (10. 1). They are nearly home when Odysseus takes a nap, exhausted by having done all of the steering for “nine days and nights” (10. 28). As he sleeps, his crew, jealous of the supposed gold and silver that Aeolus had given to Odysseus, open the bag of wind, accidentally blowing them in the wrong direction, back toward Aeolus’ palace. When they arrive, Aeolus refuses to help them, stating that it was not right for him to help a man so hated by the gods. This tragedy is one situation where Odysseus is not (at least entirely) to blame. Though he does tell Aeolus to blame his “stubborn urge to sleep,” it does not seem reasonable to do so, as he had been supposedly awake for nine days and nights (10. 68). Unfortunately, after examining the situation, one can make a case for it being partially Odysseus’ fault since his lack of communication with his crew caused their jealousy in the first place. Had he simply told the crew what was in the bag, they would have made it home safely. This, of course, does not absolve his crew of their blame, as they were the ones who acted on their jealousy and inevitably caused the boat to not reach home.

The crew’s final and most damaging mistake occurs two books later in book twelve after leaving Circe. Odysseus, having been warned multiple times urges his crew to avoid the island of the sun god Helios, but his crew, championed by Eurylochus fights back, eventually convinces Odysseus to stay and rest on the island. Though they plan to leave the next morning, Zeus causes a storm to rage for a month, depleting the crew of their supplies and food. Despite Odysseus’ urgings throughout the time against eating Helios’ cattle, when he goes to pray to the gods for assistance getting home Eurylochus convinces the other sailors to eat some of the cattle. Because of the crew’s actions, soon after leaving the island a storm hits, destroying the ship and sweeping all of the crew overboard. Only Odysseus survives. This is the situation where Odysseus is the least at fault, as he repeatedly warned his crew against eating Helios’ cattle. One could even make a case that the gods purposefully intended for this to happen, as it says that the gods “poured sweet sleep upon [his] eyes,” preventing Odysseus from returning and keeping the crew from killing the cattle (12. 338). All fault, in this case, lies in the crew’s hands, particularly Eurylochus who convinced Odysseus to stay there in the first place.

Though I have difficulty coming up with an answer to the question “Is it all Odysseus’ fault?” I will say that it is very interesting how Odysseus interacts with danger and unknown people or places. He does not hesitate to demand gifts from Polyphemus, as well as the various kings he meets along his way, nor to investigate random islands, such as those of the kings and Polyphemus, possibly simply to search for gifts. However, he attempts to avoid Helios’ island, perhaps knowing that they would inevitably fail to not eat his cattle. Together, these events don’t display a very heroic view of Odysseus. Instead of searching for the route which will get his crew home as soon as possible, Odysseus stops at every island, searching for the expected xenia from kings and peasants alike. He even says in his description “[his crew] wept, remembering their dear companions” posing a question as to how much Odysseus values human life, other than his own (12. 310). All I can say is, these past seven books have really emphasized for me Odysseus’ reputation of trickery and slyness and have lacked the heroism one might expect.

Female Heroes in Disney's Princess Movies

From a young age, I watched a lot of Disney “princess” movies. From the stereotypical Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Cinderella, to more recently made movies such as Brave, Tangled, and Moana. These movies display a clear shift in the Disney princess heroic narrative. The first three, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Cinderella, all, at least in their original Disney storyline, portray a damsel in distress who is saved by a Prince Charming with whom they live happily ever after. Though all three main female characters have some minor aspects of a hero narrative, in the end, they are unable to save themselves and must be saved. They perpetuate stereotypes of a weak and cowering woman below a powerful man. On the other hand, the later three movies, Brave, Tangled, and Moana, all coming out in the 2010s, display a strong female character who, throughout their own distinct hero’s journeys, fight back and show up the various misogynistic characters who get in their way. This is of course just a cursory description of the female main characters in these movies, I’m sure there are millions of YouTube videos spouting about the misogyny of the movies, but they still are clearly distinct from the movies of the earlier decades.

            It is not surprising that there is this separation between the films of different decades, since the world we live in has done a bit of evolving in the last century, but we, as current juniors and seniors, are in an interesting position, as people born primarily (other than Mr. Mitchell) in -the first few years of this century. Our Disney princess experience was damsel-in-distress-centric for the first half(ish) of our lives and then female-hero-centric for the second half(ish). I think this may have been part of the reason why I, at least, didn’t identify much with heroes growing up. I wasn’t a huge superhero person, and had very few living heroes, at least as far as I can remember. I was surrounded by a culture of male heroes and found it difficult to find female heroes that I could connect to. As I have gotten older and more involved in social media and keeping track of the news, this situation has changes, since I have learned about other women, both fictional and in real life, who have had heroic journeys and inspiring life stories. These women have given me a foothold into what I can do, pulling me out of the confusing mess of patriarchal ideas I was previously immersed in.

            When I think of modern Disney princess movies, in the context of this class and this blog post, the one which comes to mind first, is Moana. A story of a girl living in her normal life, whose call to adventure is refused at first, not by her but by her father, but who ends up leaving anyway, making use of the talismanic boat she discovers behind a waterfall and following the advice of her magical mentor Maui to complete her task, save her world, and return to her home a changed woman (girl?), ready to lead her now rejuvenated people to a bright and wonderful future on the seas. Moana is the literal savior of her people and is the kind of role model princess who I wish had decorated my room as a child. I think children now are incredibly lucky to both be able to see Disney damsel and warrior princesses and to be a part of an incredible population of women around the world, many of which would make fantastic, albeit parasocial, heroes. 

Hero's Journey

From now on, all posts will be concerning readings from Mr. Mitchell's Hero's Journey class.

The End Is Near. . .

(A song to listen to as you read this post: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Gd5SXN-YDc) 

Since we are arriving at the end of a lovely semester full of meta-fictional postmodern drama, I thought it would be nice to have a concluding blog post reflecting on my opinions of the interesting books we have read this semester.

Just in case you have forgotten, this semester we read Ragtime by E.L. Doctorow, Mumbo Jumbo by Ishmael Reed, Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut, Kindred by Octavia Butler, and Libra by Don DeLillo.

As usual, it is practically impossible to pick a favorite out of all these novels, but if I had to, I would choose either Ragtime or Slaughterhouse-Five. These two are sort of unique compared to the others in that the characters are (1) not involved in any conspiracy theories and (2) people who live in the time-period of the novel, not characters like Dana, from Kindred, who travel from the 1970s to the 1800s. Of course, in Slaughterhouse-Five, Billy Pilgrim is technically traveling in time, but he is living through moments that he as a person is part of, not moments that he wouldn’t have otherwise been a part of (does that make sense?). Reading the novel from the perspective of a character who is actually living in that time-period seems well, more natural, than having the perspective of a time traveler does, which allows me to focus more on the metafictional aspects of both stories.

In addition, I’ve always preferred a more traditional, or modern, style of writing, which made Ragtime very nice. It had a traditional plot line, rather normal characters, and the main aspect of post-modernism was based on twisting and making up facts to fulfill stories. 

On the other hand, Slaughterhouse-Five appeals to me more because of its untraditional plot style. It is incredibly difficult to keep track of the timeline in the story (as Betsy can attest), but that only adds to the sense of being in a different time, especially because Billy doesn’t seem at all bothered by it.

Another thing which makes me like Slaughterhouse-Five is that its plot was extended by our very own Betsy Ruckman, who wrote a short story about how Billy’s son and grandson dealt with their movement through time (You should all ask her to read it, it’s really great😊). It would be interesting to read an extension of one of the other books we read, sure, but I don’t think it would be as effective to read, for example, about the lives of Mother and Baron Ashkenazy after the ending of Ragtime, or a modern life story of what happened to the characters of Libra after the end of the novel[1]. During the novel, we are already told that various main characters such as Everett die before the time of Branch’s investigation and we are living through the time after that. A continuation of the plot would likely not have a lot of content and does not sound very interesting.

Anyway, though, these two novels were probably my favorites. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Mumbo Jumbo, Kindred, and Libra, but they didn’t attract my attention as much. I do love the conspiracy aspect of Libra and there was a very interesting emotional aspect to Kindred, but I admit many of the smaller points of Mumbo Jumbo went over my head. Nonetheless, they were all enjoyable reads, and I’m definitely glad I did not drop this class for poetry! 😊

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[1] I haven’t actually finished Libra yet, so I don’t know how it ends, but I assume the timing of the ending is somewhere around the time when Oswald is killed. 

The Umbrella Man

So, we have just started a book based on a very controversial event that I happen to have done a World Since Essay on last quarter. Since I know a bit about some of the many conspiracy theories surrounding President John F. Kennedy's assassination, I thought I would take some time to share my favorite on my blog.

The Umbrella Man theory.

After watching a home video made by Abraham Zapruder of the JFK assassination (the US government paid his kids $16 million in 1999 for the film), researchers noticed that despite the lovely weather in Dallas on November 22, 1963, there was a man holding a black umbrella. People thought maybe he was using the umbrella to signal to co-conspirators, or maybe the umbrella was the weapon after all.

As a researcher named Josiah Thompson (he also was the one who came up with the name "Umbrella Man" for the mysterious umbrella holder) said, "The only person under any umbrella in all of Dallas, standing right at the location where all the shots come into the limousine. Can anyone come up with a non-sinister explanation for this? Hmm? Hmm?" (Note: Oddly enough, I just noticed that he said this in a New York Times Op-Doc in 2011, and "Umbrella Man" had already come forward and explained himself in 1978. The timing seems a little weird there.)

Swiftly sweeping the legs out from under that conspiracy theory was Umbrella Man himself. He turned out to be a man named Louie Steven Witt who explained that the umbrella was a symbol of political protest. It was supposed to be against how Joseph P. Kennedy, JFK's father supported appeasing the Nazis. Joseph Kennedy was a supporter of British PM Neville Chamberlain, who regularly had an umbrella with him. So, the umbrella was merely an attempt to make a peaceful political statement.

This is definitely my favorite conspiracy theory, but there are definitely others that I won't delve too far into (because they are infinitely more complicated than this one) including theories about President Lyndon B. Johnson, the Cubans, the CIA or the FBI, and the weirder ones concerning Freemasons, Lee Harvey Oswald being addicted to refined sugar, a Secret Service agent accidentally firing and hitting JFK, the driver turning around and shooting him, baseball player Joe DiMaggio hiring someone to do it, JFK being killed because he was too interested in aliens, and Jackie Kennedy. To be honest, most of these I hadn't heard of until I decided to look up the weirdest conspiracy theories to write this blog post, but even the site I got them from admits that a lot of these don't have a lot of evidence to back them up.

At this point in Libra, it seems like DeLillo is planning to use a CIA theory. Though my initial research showed that most people believe that Oswald did have CIA connections, further research showed a lot of disparity. Some people said that Oswald had an actual connection, but the more recent articles specified very little direct connection, other than the fact that the CIA was monitoring Oswald prior to the assassination. This disparity is likely due to the relatively recent release of various documents from the time of the assassination investigations.

Nonetheless, it seems like DeLillo intends to create, in this novel, a narrative where a bunch of ex/semi-retired CIA agents recruit Oswald to assassinate JFK, suggesting a connection between Oswald and the CIA. It will be interesting to see how DeLillo addresses the introductions between Oswald and the agents Libra. I am not sure what I expect to happen at this point, but I am looking forward to finding out.

Anywho, is anyone else having trouble remembering that this is a fictional novel? I feel like I am continuously digesting the info in the novel without remembering that not all of it is necessarily legitimate, or at least proven to be.

Also, does anyone else have a favorite theory to share? Personally, I don't believe any theory could be better than the Umbrella Man, but, please! Prove me wrong!

(Other comments are of course welcomed and encouraged, you don't necessarily need to begin your response with a quirky theory, though those are highly recommended)

Sources:  

https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/aliens-to-sugar-addictions-the-ten-weirdest-kennedy-assassination-conspiracy-theories-8953884.html#gallery

This is where I got my weird theories.

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/10/26/us/jfk-assassination.html

This is where I learned originally about the Umbrella Man

http://www.spokesman.com/stories/1995/mar/12/growing-up-the-daughter-of-an-assassin-shadow-of/

Here is an interview with Lee Harvey Oswald’s daughter if you’re interested. There are also a bunch of YouTube videos interviewing her and his other daughter, but I haven’t looked at them so I can’t speak to their credibility or quality.

My Predictions for Kindred

So, we just started reading Kindred, and in honor of this conventionally straightforward narrative, I decided I would write a blog post on my predictions for how the plot will continue.  

The "main character," Dana, seems to be the center of the plot so far, which seems to be focused around her time travel from the 1970s to the 1800s. My first prediction concerns the prologue. Dana's arm has just been amputated and she and Kevin are extremely vague about why. It has still not been explicitly explained, which makes sense, considering the scene in the prologue usually occurs at the climax or end of the novel, but nonetheless, I believe there is a fairly simple explanation for why the amputation was necessary. Following the prologue, we are introduced to Dana's time travel. Through the narrative, the reader can figure out that when Dana time travels, if she moves from place to place while in the past, she will also move from place to place in the present (recall how she disappears and appears a few feet away the first time she goes back in time). Because of this example, I believe that Dana's arm having been "crushed right into the wall" was caused by her returning to the present close enough to a wall that her arm got stuck. And, as we all know, it is quite difficult to safely remove an arm from a wall, so it is necessary to amputate it instead.  

Now, you might be saying, "well, okay Lia, but this is really very simple and we all already thought of that. Do you have anything a little more exciting for us?" The answer, is yes. I have an astronomically more insane prediction to share with you. Now, I will admit that I am skeptical as to the likeliness of it coming true, but nonetheless I did say I was going to share my predictions for the continuation of the plot, so I will.  

Similarly to the first one, this prediction is directly related to the prologue. As Adi pointed out in our discussion yesterday, this novel seems a little more modern than what we have been reading so far this semester. It has the style and suspense of a detective novel and a simple narrative style that I associate with novels I would not expect to see in this class. So, in order to post-modernize (or maybe just anti-modernize, I still don't really get the differences) this novel a bit, I predict that not only will the prologue not be the end of the novel (some people were saying that yesterday), but it won't even be the climax of the novel. It will simply not happen. Generally, a prologue is either something that has happened years previously, or a flash forward to the most important or exciting part of the novel. Not only would not including the prologue later in the novel separate this novel from most modern novels, but it would also bring about the possibility that the prologue is a possible ending or a possible climax. This implies that the time travel in Kindred is the sort of time travel where Dana can change the future. The prologue that Butler includes is (well, could be) just one possible future, but it is not necessarily the only possibility. 

Doctor Who and Slaughterhouse-Five

Starting at the very beginning of the novel, on the title page, Vonnegut confused me with seemingly sensible sentences about “the planet Tralfamadore, where the flying saucers come from.” It is not until page 32 (of the big brown version) that Vonnegut decided it was about time to inform us that Billy had, as a matter of fact, “been kidnapped by a flying saucer [from Tralfamadore] in 1967.” Then, on the next few pages, Billy reveals that his writing style/thought process is an attempt to mimic the thought process of the Tralfamadorians.

Now, I could write this blog post as an analysis/listing of all of the Tralfamadorian ideas displayed in this novel so far, but before we get to that (if we do) I would like to explain to you how Billy’s kidnapping by the Tralfamadorians is basically Doctor Who.

For those who don’t know, Doctor Who is a British TV show that has been airing since 1963. It follows the timeline of the Doctor, a Time Lord from a planet called Gallifrey who travels through time and space in his TARDIS. Throughout the show, he dies and is regenerated multiple times. For this post, I would like to focus on the Eleventh Doctor, played by Matt Smith. One of the Eleventh Doctor’s companions (people/humans who travel with him) is Amy (Amelia) Pond, often accompanied by her husband, Rory.

On Rory and Amy’s wedding anniversary (Season 7 episode 4: “The Power of Three”) the Doctor shows up, whisks Amy and Rory into his police box TARDIS, and then they leave. The episode shows how they go from time to time (at one point Amy accidentally marries Henry the 8^th; he’s the one who had six wives; if you want to watch, here’s a song about him: https://www.schooltube.com/video/123d1074578941487a5f/HORRIBLE%20HISTORIES%20-%20The%20Wives%20of%20Henry%20VIII%20(Terrible%20Tudors) ) and then at the end of it they return back to the anniversary party just a few seconds after they left. However, when Rory’s father (played by the same actor who played Arthur Weasley) questions the Doctor, he admits they have actually been gone for seven weeks.

There are a few connections to be made between this episode of Doctor Who and Slaughterhouse-Five the most obvious being that no one notices that the Ponds or Billy have left. As Billy describes, “the Tralfamadorians had taken him through a time warp, so that he could be on Tralfamadore for years, and still be away from Earth for only a microsecond” (32-33).

The other two connections are smaller and more ironic than significant. The first is that Billy leaves the night of his daughter’s wedding and Rory and Amy leave during their anniversary party. Both instances are connected to weddings. The second connection is that, while away, both Amy and Billy enter into a new relationship with someone living in the place they are visiting. With Amy, it is, as previously stated, King Henry VIII, and with Billy, it is Montana Wildhack, a “former Earthling movie star” who he mates with while on Tralfamadore (32).

It would be cool to find out if these are related at all; like if one stole the idea from the other (the TV show came out first, so the idea of travel through time and space wasn’t new, but this episode didn’t air until 2012), but since that is not possible, in conclusion, I would just like to mention one thing that connects both the TV show Doctor Who as a whole and the novel Slaughterhouse-Five. Both main characters, the Doctor and Billy, are involved in a war. For the Doctor, it is the Time War, where all of the Time Lords (and Ladies) other than himself (and the Master/Missy) die, and for Billy, it is World War II. These wars seem to define the characters of both these “men” (the newest Doctor is a woman) and push them into the actions portrayed in the novel/show (Billy would never have written the novel if he hadn’t been in the war; the Doctor basically becomes the Doctor because of the war).

Any Whovians out there, do you agree? Also, on a completely different note, can anyone explain to me how the War Doctor is not the First Doctor? I haven’t seen the original series so that stuff trips me up. Thanks!

Gender in Mumbo Jumbo

Though we have discussed race in relation to Mumbo Jumbo in class, I realized today that we never talked about gender. So, what? It’s not a big deal, we don’t have to talk about sexism in relation to every book that we read. It was a simple observation.

But then, that observation dug into my mind, and I realized, that in the entire book, I could only think of two named, relatively consequential, female characters: Earline and Charlotte. And, even with those two, they didn’t seem to have a very large part in the story. The two are second to pro-Jes Grew, fairly prominent black men, with Earline as Papa LaBas’ assistant and Charlotte doing things for Berbelang. 

Think about it: both Earline and Charlotte seem involved with Jes Grew and its spread, yet (as far as I can remember) Earline is mentioned only in regard to the Mumbo Jumbo Kathedral and her possession by a loa, and Charlotte is mentioned only in regard to the Mumbo Jumbo Kathedral, her involvement in plays of some sort, and her murder by Musclewhite. 

Charlotte’s lack of a presence seems fairly realistic to me, though I question why she wasn’t involved with the mutafikah alongside Berbelang, but what seems extremely odd is Earline’s lack of involvement. She enters the story momentarily at the beginning of the novel and then disappears for a while, reappears to have sex with a married man, get a loa separated from her, and then disappear again. Why is she not involved in LaBas’ movements? 

It is, of course, possible that Earline is completely oblivious to the surrounding conflict of Jes Grew versus the Atonists, but that seems unlikely. As Papa LaBas’ assistant, one might imagine that Earline would be by LaBas’ side (at times other than when he is at a party), but instead, he is trailed by Black Herman and/or T Malice, two black men who also seem to be involved with the Kathedral.

So, why are these women kicked to the background? Well, at least in the party scene 159, it seems to me that Earline (Charlotte is dead at this point) is excluded because she is a woman: weak and unable to handle to horrors of disrupting a party. Another woman mentioned in the scene, the Hostess, pushes this stereotype by fainting not once, but twice. 

Ok, so maybe the men in the story feel that Earline is too feminine for their work, but why would Reed write his female characters like this in his novel? This is something which, despite extensive thought, I have been unable to find a reason for. It baffles me, because, as we have discussed in class, he is specifically reversing the roles of black and white cultures in terms of superiority and writing white characters like white people wrote black characters in order to make a point about oppression. Why would he ignore the struggle of women, black and white? From what we know about him as an author, it doesn’t seem like something he would purposefully skip over. Like I said, I’m not really sure. Maybe he just didn’t want ideas about sexism to disrupt his overall message about racism or something like that. Who knows. 


Honestly, does anyone have any ideas? It’s hard to base anything off of anything on this topic, seeing as there are very few female characters to study, but I’m sure one of you brilliant minds can think of something other than what I have hypothesized above. 



Note: Here’s the link to a song that made up of words from Mumbo Jumbo that I found on YouTube. It’s sort of jazzy. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7pjdRgzW90E

Sarah's Child and Human Resurrection in Ragtime

A topic that I find quite interesting in relation to Doctorow’s Ragtime is the idea of coming back to life. Not reincarnation, becoming a new person, but resurrection, dying, or partially dying, and then coming back to life. During my panel presentation on Ragtime, I briefly discussed human resurrection and reincarnation, but for now, I would like to focus on human resurrection.

Considering it is Doctorow, it is important to consider that I am not referring to any sort of magical resurrection. Though Doctorow may play with the lines of historical “fact” in Ragtime, to my knowledge he does not attempt to include anything that may have been, or may still be, impossible. Rather, the examples of human resurrection are mostly metaphorical.

The earliest example of metaphorical resurrection is described by the Little Boy on page eight of the novel. The Little Boy describes an occasion where Houdini was “buried alive in a grave and could not escape, and had to be rescued” (7-8). The mere act of being trapped in a coffin and then released is an act of metaphorical resurrection and irony. The only people who go into coffins are dead people (or, I suppose, living people who are buried alive), so the implication is that Houdini goes into the coffin, is in the coffin momentarily metaphorically “dead,” and then is brought out, having been resurrected and returned to life.

A similar act of resurrection happens to Sarah’s child, later named Coalhouse Walker the third. As the Little Boy once more describes, “Mother had dug something up. . . it was an infant” (68-69). Sarah’s child is buried alive (by Sarah herself) and then experiences the same metaphorical death and resurrection as Houdini previously.

The author of my panel presentation article suggested that Sarah’s child also experiences another resurrection: when his mother figure is changed from Sarah to Mother. I would like to further this suggest that Sarah’s child experiences three resurrections: first, when he is pulled from the ground, second, when he switches from being cared for by Sarah to the housekeeper, and third, at the end of the book when טאטע (and the rest of the family) acknowledge the toddler as a part of their dysfunctional (and now mixed race) family.

If you consider the repetition of Houdini and Sarah’s child’s resurrections, one could suggest that Houdini’s described resurrection was merely a foreshadowing of Sarah’s child, and while the Little Boy may be the narrator of the novel, Sarah’s child is what moves it along.

Think about it: the birth and consequent resurrection of Sarah’s child is what moves the plot in the Little Boy’s family, bringing Sarah and then Coalhouse into the household. Without Sarah’s child, Coalhouse never would have met them, and who knows if he would have had his car wrecked and wanted revenge. Similarly, Sarah’s child’s second resurrection is caused by the death of his mother, an event which pushes the plot of the novel further, causing Coalhouse to fall off the edge. Finally, Sarah’s child’s third resurrection is caused by the combination of the families, the conclusion of the story. Each resurrection represents a significant point in the novel without which there would be no plot. 

Can you guys think of other examples of human resurrection? I remember Vikram coming up with some good ones in class, but I forgot them. . .