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. . .

Conspiracy Theory Time!!!

Of all the topics I could choose to address in this blog post, I think the most interesting one is the idea that Ford and Morgan created the Illuminati. Admit it: yes, labor strikes and anarchy are interesting, but the Illuminati? That is a whole other level. Out of all of the quasi-truthful stories Doctorow tells in Ragtime, this is the only one where I am completely taken by surprise.

First of all, when did the Illuminati become a thing? Doctorow wrote Ragtime in the ‘70s, and I don’t really imagine that level of conspiracy theories in the ‘70s. I figured I would do some research, and, after some quality Wikipedia time, I realized there was a lot more to this than I had thought.

Did you know that the idea of the Illuminati originated in the 18^th Century with an actual group called the Bavarian Illuminati? I sure didn’t. Plus, did you know that they were banned, along with Freemasonry (remember that, juniors?) and other secret societies? This whole time, I had thought someone just made up the idea of the Illuminati and decided to assign the conspiracy theory to groups for fun!

Honestly, though, why would Doctorow want to include a conspiracy theory in his novel? Sure, you might say it was not intentional, but come on, The Pyramid? It cannot have been unintentional! This, of course, leads to another question: why is a pyramid associated with the Illuminati? According to a link from the official Illuminati website, it is “The Pyramid of Wealth and Success.” I interpret the description of the pyramid as saying, those who are richer are rich because there are no other people to replace them. They are unique, they are alone. Does this sound familiar? I think it perfectly describes Morgan’s feeling of loneliness. He feels like there is no one like him, no one who has the same ideas, and he desperately wishes for a companion of similar ideas. His and Ford’s society, The Pyramid, is a representation of themselves as the top of the pyramid: those unreplaceable geniuses who cannot be replaced and (wait for it. . .) are being reincarnated to provide each generation with one such genius.

Woah. I just shocked myself with how conspiracy theory-y I got.

(Source: https://illuminati.am/pyramid-of-wealth-and-success/)

To return to the original topic, why might Doctorow want to include this conspiracy in his writing? I suspect there is some truth to the idea that he is, in his entire book, describing the Pyramid of Wealth and Success. Think about it: there is Morgan and Ford on the top, and then the bottom is full of the middle class and lower classes. Take Father, for example, and how easily replaceable he is. He leaves for Alaska, and when he returns, his position, at least his position in his business, has been mostly taken over by Mother. Or the strikers that טאטע (Tateh) joins in Lawrence. The entire problem pushing their striking is that wages are dropping lower and lower and they cannot stop it because they are entirely replaceable! Whether it is foreign workers or unemployed citizens, there are always more people ready to take over, regardless of how low the wage is. Remember what טאטע said: “The I.W.W. has won. . .But what has it won? A few more pennies in wages. Will it now own the mills? No.” The combination of טאטע and Morgan’s self-awareness seems almost to me as though it is reaching that fourth wall of writing, where the characters in the story acknowledge their fictionality. It is like an extreme case of “show, not tell.” Instead of hearing it from the narrator, we hear straightforward, slightly unbelievable assessments of the circumstances of the time from the characters themselves. (And, once more, I am off topic).

Anyway, what I am trying (and failing) to say, is that I believe the conspiracy theory is here to remind us, as the readers, how absurd this entire concept is. The absurdity of Mother’s Younger Brother’s obsessions with Evelyn and then Coalhouse. The absurdity of Coalhouse’s sudden shift from seemingly steady and patient musician to crazy-man blowing things up and killing people. The absurdity of the possibility of the Franklin Novelty Company both buying טאטע’s book and selling Ford his book. The absurdity of Houdini suddenly showing up at Father and Mother’s house. Or, even, the absurdity of our own personal conspiracy theory that the Little Boy is, in fact, a deity of some sort. The Pyramid is a reminder of the absurdity, as well as the quasi-legitimacy.

(I cannot hold myself back from connecting this idea of absurdity connected with quasi-legitimacy to the life of a Uni student. Think about Mr. Butler’s fun facts. How many times have you listened to those and thought, even if only for a second, could this be true? It may just be that I am extremely gullible (which I admit I am (ooh look parentheses within parentheses within parentheses!)), but every time I hear a fun fact I acknowledge the absurdity of it (for they are often absurd), but at the same time, they are not impossible. They are not impossible to the extent that it is not necessarily impossible for Evelyn and Emma Goldman to have met, or Houdini and Thaw. They mention real people, famous people, and then tie them up in events which never happened. Huh. I did not even realize how connected they were until I wrote this.)

Hey guys! I hope my overall ideas about conspiracies and Ragtime shone through occasionally despite all of my off-topic ideas. Let me know what you think! Do you agree with my conspiracy theory(s)?

History As Fiction

From now on, all posts will be concerning readings from Mr. Mitchell's History As Fiction class.

"Wait, what?"

One thing I found exceptionally interesting in Song of Solomon is how logic seems entirely screwed. Throughout the novel, there were so many "Wait, what?" moments that I couldn't have counted them if I tried. Here are a few that I found particularly memorable:

1) Guitar's Explanation of the Seven Days (starting pg. 154)

When Guitar is explaining the Seven Days, at first it seems rational (though still a little crazy). He is mathematical; systematic in his approach, explaining how it is an eye for an eye: killing a white person for every black person. Then the "Wait, what?" moment happens when  Guitar starts explaining his form of reverse racism. He seems so rational, and yet what he is saying is absolutely insane. It is beyond an eye for an eye and moving on to something more extreme where Guitar is stereotyping all white people in the exact way that some white people stereotype black people. Milkman seems to agree with the reader on the insanity of what Guitar is saying and vehemently questions him about the ethics of the operation (clearly lacking), but in the end, he hides Guitar's secret from others, even when Guitar is trying to kill him (something which is equally insane).

2) Speaking of Guitar trying to kill Milkman, was that not absolutely crazy?! I swear, I actually screamed when I finished the book. Where is the logic in that? What happened to Guitar "[hating] doing it"? I don't even know what to say about that. It completely caught me off guard, plus the thing with Hagar, PLUS the thing with Pilate. Wow, this book was crazy.

3) Milkman's Attitude toward Finding his Family

Sometimes it is hard for me to interpret how Milkman is truly feeling. Yes, we get his internal monologue (to a certain extent), but a lot of the time we just have to go by what he said to other people. This is particularly troublesome when Milkman is talking to Susan in her house on page 292. "It's important to you, is it, to find your people?" she asks, and Milkman responds, "No. Not really. I was just passing through, and it was just-just an idea. It's not important." These ambiguous statements make it very difficult for the reader to interpret what Milkman actually thinks. Is he in Shalimar to find his family or the gold? After he hears and understands the children's song as being a family history he is so happy and then he seems drunk to Sweet because of how happy he is when they are swimming. Milkman's words with Susan are so out of ordinary, and definitely another "wait, what?" moment.

I have tried to think up a reason why Milkman may have suddenly pretended like he didn't really care about his family (and yes, I think he was pretending) and I think the one that makes the most sense goes along with his immaturity, despite being in his 30s. He is the grumpy kid who doesn't want his sports team to lose, so he starts supporting the other team instead. When what Susan is saying starts disproving everything he has suspected he feels like everything is being messed up, and switches teams to not caring to make himself feel better.

I'm not sure how solid the above concept is, but I think it goes along well with the sense of boyhood we have observed as surrounding Milkman even at his older age. Let me know what you think!

Also, seriously, what did you guys think of that wacky ending?!

How much is Antoinette at fault for the failure of her marriage?

The author of the article I will soon be doing my panel presentation on spent the majority of 16 pages summarizing the plot of "Wide Sargasso Sea," while occasionally pausing to give us some insight into her analysis. One thing that caught my eye was a summary of something which we have also discussed to some extent in class: Antoinette giving Rochester the supposed love potion. The author of the literary criticism said simply that Christophine had given Antoinette a "love potion" and then, later on, remarked that Rochester had felt ill and poisoned. She gave no analysis whatsoever on, not only the lack of consent represented in Antoinette's giving Rochester something which would practically force him to have sex with her, but also the fact that Antoinette's having done this may have made her partially at fault for their relationship crumbling afterward. 

The author's not having discussed consent can be easily excused, as the article was published in 1978, when perhaps there was not as much discussion on the topic, or at the very least, not much discussion when it came to fictional characters. We discussed a similar topic during a panel presentation today, about how feminist criticism of "Wide Sargasso Sea" has changed over time. It is possible for this to be excused. However, the fact that the author does not once even mention Antoinette being at fault, and in fact spends a good portion of her analysis discussing who is at fault for the events that take place between Antoinette and her husband cannot be excused. The author considers Rochester, Tia, even Christophine as possible catalysts, but not once does she bring up Antoinette. 

To me, it seems impossible that one could not consider ascribing some semblance of responsibility, of fault, to Antoinette. I suppose it may be because, as the reader, I have the opportunity to see into the thoughts of both Antoinette and Rochester and see how they misunderstand each other, but it seems like both of them make unnecessarily drastic decisions: Antoinette with her potion, and Rochester with (1) treating her badly once he gets Cosway's letter, (2) sleeping with Amelie, and (3) locking her away in his attic and never visiting. Ok, ok, yes, I definitely agree that Rochester should get more blame; I mean, he could have at least asked Antoinette if what Cosway said was true, instead of just believing everything Cosway said! But still, Antoinette took a big step with the obeah stuff, and it seems to me that the potion was the breaking point in their relationship. But who knows, maybe I am reading too much into it. . . 

Am I laying too much blame on Rochester and not enough on Antoinette? Or too much on Antoinette and not enough on Rochester? Is there someone else important I am ignoring? Let me know what you think!!

An Arab and a Frenchman go into a bar. . .

Out of all of the books we have read this semester, I have had the hardest time trying to think of a blog topic for The Stranger. I thought about maybe writing about Meursault's lack of emotion in the first half or his relationship with Marie. As I was going through ideas, I heard my dad listening to a YouTube video in the background. I couldn't tell exactly what it was about, but it was something concerning ISIS, and they mentioned the words Arab and Muslim. Immediately, the perfect idea came to mind.

During a panel presentation or discussion this week, we debated whether or not the novel was racist. Within that, we went over Meursault as a character and how the justice system ignored his murdering the Arab and focused more on his "murdering" his mother. When I think about racism in The Stranger, one thing comes to mind. Would the trial have been different if Meursault had shot a French man, rather than an Arab one? If so, is that not caused by racism?

This week, a man drove his vehicle into pedestrians in Manhattan, killing at least 8 people and injuring at least 13. Something Trevor Noah said I think perfectly explains the reason why I am quoting this now. Noah said, "When it was a Nazi, Trump needed more facts. When it was a Muslim, that was the only fact he needed." During the trial, the court focuses almost entirely on Meursault's attitude concerning his mother's death and very little on the actual murder in question. So imagine Meursault had killed someone else. What would have been different?

When it was an Arab, the court focused on a separate topic. If it was a Frenchman, that would be the only fact they'd need.

When Your Sister Wants to Get Rid of You

One thing which really confuses me about the ending to Franz Kafka's "The Metamorphosis" is Gregor's sister, Grete. Throughout the story, Grete is the only member of Gregor's family who does not abandon him after his transformation. She brings him food, cleans the room, and does all she can to make life easier for him, even going as far as to remove heavy furniture from his room.

For this reason, while I can accept that her job made her too tired to care for Gregor as much as she had previously, it is unexplainable to me why she would be the one to decide that the family must "try and get rid of it" (104). Are Grete and her father mad about being forced to work? Has she just decided it is no longer worth it to even try and take care of Gregor?

What makes it even stranger is that earlier in the story, following the apple-throwing scene, Grete and her mother attempt (and more or less succeed, at least for the time being) to convince Gregor's father that Gregor is, in some way, human and should be treated as such rather than being pelted by apples. Basically, they try to convince Gregor's father to acknowledge the fact that Gregor the insect is still Gregor his son, and that therefore Mr. Samsa should not be trying to hurt him. Yet, by the end of the story, Grete convinces them nonetheless to "get rid of it" by saying that insect Gregor is not the same as human Gregor. Not only does she change her mind about taking care of Gregor, she also uses the exact point she was against earlier as her excuse!

I have thought long and hard about this, trying to figure out what Kafka may have been trying to suggest in writing this character as so seemingly indecisive and hypocritical, but I cannot come up with any good ideas. The best I have been able to think of is that perhaps Kafka is, through his characters, attempting to embody the overall human character: one that constantly changes its mind and is increasingly influenced by outside opinions and its own selfishness.

Does anyone have any better ideas?