"He lay for a moment, blinking in owlish incomprehension at the light; then suddenly remembered--everything.
"'Oh, my God, my God!' He covered his eyes with his hand." - p. 259
Sooooo....
....
Did he kill Lenina? Bryan, you can't answer because... I already know. What you think. Is a fragment. But still. It would explain his otherwise rather overreaction-y dismay at remembering "everything." Otherwise, "everything" is just... soma. And stuff. There you go. There's a theme: Everything is just soma and stuff. That's what the civilized people think.
I just became surprised and kind of sad about the Lenina business. But I have to go watch Chamber of Secrets some more. Harry doesn't die, and I knooow it because... straightforward is good.
"From time to time he stretched out his arms as though he were on the Cross, and held them thus through long minutes of an ache that gradually increased till it became a tremulous and excruciating agony; held them, in voluntary crucifixion, while he repeated, through clenched teeth (the sweat, meanwhile, pouring down his face), 'Oh, forgive me! Oh, make me pure! Oh, help me to be good!' again and again, till he was on the point of fainting from the pain." - p. 244
He's just like Dobby. Just like Dobby! He's aaaaaall content with his lighthouse, and then he realizes he never set out to be haaaappy, and then... masochism. Yep. Seriously I have to watch Harry Potter now.
Ummm...
Oh yeah, so I decided to blog about the first half of chapter eighteen and then a second post about the second half of chapter eighteen. But... I read the second half already. So this is hard. And I am cheating. Empty sentences. Aaaaand go.
"'But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.'" - p. 240
Wow. Wowowow. I wish I... knew how to say profound things right after somebody makes an argument against me. I have to rehearse thoughts for hours in order to make them sound like that. That was awesome.
His certainty about that baffles me, also. I am very ambivalent about everything. It takes a while to deciiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide how to feel about sssstuff, y'know? Okay. I'm watching Chamber of Secrets right now; not gonna lie. These sentences are about eighty percent empty. Or twenty percent full. It's a shame because this is one of the best chapters in the book! But you know, I'm not getting a grade for this, and... priorities. So here's a picture of what's really on my mind:
"'I should like a thoroughly bad climate,' he answered. 'I believe one would write better if the climate were bad.'" - p. 229
It's true, I think. I find that terribly worrisome, considering my career objectives. Let's look at some examples.
J.K. Rowling is the richest woman in the world. She's got more money than the Queen of England. Everyone loves her, with the exception of people who think that Harry Potter is either annoying or evil.
Emily Dickinson, about whom I wrote my Famous American report in third grade (and also one in seventh), is, for all her confusing capitalization, one of the most-read poets of all time.
Charles Dickens... well, we've all read some Dickens at some point in our lives, haven't we?
You know what they all have in common? They're all varying degrees of miserable.
J.K. Rowling, after moving back to England from Portugal with her daughter as a single mother, wrote the beginning chapters of Harry Potter on napkins in pubs while her baby daughter napped.
Emily Dickinson was a hermit. She was also depressed.
Charles Dickens described himself as a "very small and not-over-particularly-taken-care-of boy."
For the sake of avoiding unnecessary mental crises, I am going to stop there.
I have this autographed picture on my desk in my room. Sometimes people think it's a new frame that still has the random picture in it.
"And suddenly it was luminously clear to the Savage what he must do; it was as though a shutter had been opened, a curtain drawn back." - p. 210
That's an epiphany if ever I've seen one.
John knew all along, I think, that he hated this soma stuff, and that something had to be done about it. He just didn't feel like being proactive. He didn't feel a personal responsibility for any of them. He had been too busy mooning over Lenina. The realization that Lenina wasn't really his type and the death of his mother--these in rapid succession-- provided the impetus/incentive for him to make his move. That soma-smashing session reminded me first of the Boston Tea Party and then of the scene in Order of the Phoenix in which the prophecies all get smashed. The Boston Tea Party is the better parallel in terms of intent, but the Order of the Phoenix parallel works better for me because I saw that one happen, and it sounds smash-y-er in my mind.
Thaaat reminded me of a scene from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (the movie, not the book, and it made a lot of people--not me-- mad).
Also, this one reminded me of the same movie D=!
"'Is she dead?' he asked.
"The Savage stared at them for a moment in silence. Then in silence he rose to his feet, in silence slowly walked towards the door.
"'Is she dead?' repeated the inquisitive twin trotting at his side." - p. 207
1:50-2:20 of this scene, to be precise. The difference is that the creepy twins don't mean any harm; it's all in their conditioning. Dudley is just a jerk-face who's been conditioned to be a jerk-face by his jerk-face parents. Ahem. Sorry. It is Harry Potter Week.
Also, maybe this is just juxtaposition of the two different cultures, but John seems almost excessively attached to his mother. They told him this was coming, and I'm perfectly aware that knowledge of terminal illness doesn't make the imminent end any prettier or less traumatic, but his denial seems... off. Preposition. I'm going to label it the Oedipus complex because I like to put intelligent-sounding things in my tags... but also because I think he might have a touch of an Oedipus complex.
"There was a moment's silence; then, in a very low voice, 'I love you more than anything in the world,' he said." - p. 192
0:45-1:00
Only sometimes. Unfortunately for John, this is one of those times. Kind of.
The problem with this scenario is that John and Lenina have very different (and extreme) definitions of the word "love." John believes it's the Romeo and Juliet, I-have-to-kill-myself-immediately-if-my-loved-one-is-dead definition. Lenina thinks it's the wow-that-guy-is-physically-attractive-and-positively-interesting kind. That's... not a very sturdy foundation. Bad things are bound to happen, and as we've seen, they did.
I believe the half of the phone conversation at the end of the chapter was an alert to John that Linda's not doing so well. Soma overdose, probably. Maaaaaybe Lenina will come back after that? Probably not. They're all conditioned to be all right with death. Maybe that would be good for people. Hmph.
"It was the Helmholtz of daily life who forgot and forgave, not the Helmholtz of a half-gramme holiday." - p. 180
I picked that quote initially because it sounded really, really nice. Then, when I was writing it, I realized that it sounded nice because of the consonance, mostly. Helmholtz half-gramme holiday. The niceness of that quote fits well with this chapter that so emphasizes the impact of language, which Helmholtz and John mutually appreciate. I thought Bernard was a fan of it as well, but he seems to have grown rather bitter. I can understand that, I guess. It's not a shining personality trait to get jealous like that; envying the friendship of two people you've brought together is certainly not going to make them like you more. I'm not supposed to use "you" like that.
Helmholtz's reaction to Romeo and Juliet was a bit disappointing but altogether to be expected, really. The three of them--Helmholtz, Bernard and John-- they've been drawn together through the mutual characteristic of being misfits. They're not that much alike, but who else have they got? Aaaand because I can:
Hagrid: I remember when I first met you all. Biggest bunch of misfits I ever set eyes on!
You reminded me of myself a little. And here we all are, four years later.
Ron: We're still a bunch of misfits.
Hagrid: Well, maybe. But you've all got each other. And Harry, o'course, soon to be the
"'Twelve hundred and fifty kilometres an hour,' said the Station Master impressively. 'What do you think of that, Mr. Savage?'
"John thought it very nice. 'Still,' he said, 'Ariel could put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes.'" - p. 158
Mister Savage! My brain can hardly comprehend! Such juxtaposition is at work! The audience reads "Mr. Savage" and better grasps the drastic change that has taken place in John's life. (Savage isn't on his birth certificate or something, is it? Surely not. They must have given him that for... kicks. Also it is pretty appropriate, considering.)
Ah! Harry Potter reference time. Good. I've been slacking in that regard.
Just as Harry Potter came from being the outcast (as the despised only magical member of his household) to being a different kind of outcast (as the beloved Boy Who Lived), John has gone from being the weird half-civilized kid who can read to being the weird but fascinating half-civilized kid who won't take soma.
"A new light seemed to dawn upon my mind, and, bounding with joy, I communicated my discovery to my father. My father looked carelessly at the title-page of my book and said, 'Ah! Cornelius Agrippa! My dear Victor, do not waste your time upon this; it is sad trash.'" - p. 20
Agrippa is the famous wizard Ron Weasley most wants to see on a Chocolate Frog Card; he's got about six of Dumbledore already.
Also, "Under the guidance of my new preceptors, I entered with the greatest diligence into the search of the philosopher's stone and the elixir of life; but the latter soon obtained my undivided attention." - p. 21
Checkitout.
On a more academic note, I've noticed that Shelley was very into giving her characters a healthy appreciation of nature. In particular, our dear nameless monster has mentioned the moon at least twice in his account of his life thus far, which seems significant.
"Soon a gentle light stole over the heavens, and gave me a sensation of pleasure. I started up and beheld a radiant form rise from among the trees.*" - p. 71
*The moon [author's footnote].
"By great application, however, and after having remained during the space of several revolutions of the moon in my hovel, I discovered the names that were given to some of the most familiar objects of discourse; I learned and applied the words, 'fire,' 'milk,' 'bread,' and 'wood.'" - p. 78
He first noticed the moon when he was in that particularly overwhelmed-by-conscious-existence state, and I think he's grown sort of attached to it. He now uses it to tell time. I like this guy.
The whole memory-play thing reminded me of a Pensieve.
Also, Malvolio (the Magician!) is the name of Malcolm's spider in She's the Man, which incidentally, as was pointed out in AP Lit a week or so ago, is based on Shakespeare's The Twelfth Night.
Applicable scene comes in around 4:54, but I recommend watching the whole clip, just for kicks.
Also also, this is a victrola, in case you were wondering like I was:
I was disappointed. I thought it would be some kind of instrument. Instruments make for more effective hobbies than potentially skin-piercing menageries.
SPEAKING of menageries, I knew what those were because of Harry Potter. The Magical Menagerie is where Ron finds rat tonic for Scabbers. I believe this rat tonic was the inspiration for the concept of fish tonic, which they do not sell at Seven Eleven stores, unfortunately for Chester Montgomery. My cat is positively hammering at my bedroom door right now, but I just opened it to let her out five minutes ago, and I will not pander to her whims!!!!
P.S. Also, is Laura dead or something?
P.P.S. I didn't like the way Jim handled that situation.
1. Does the play employ realistic or nonrealistic conventions? On the spectrum from literalistic imitation of reality to stylized or surrealistic representation, where is the play situated? Are there breaks from the conventions established as a norm in the play? If so, what is the dramatic effect of these departures? Are they meaningful?
Well, it employs them both. Probably at minimum wage.
For instance, the character interaction is incredibly realistic. The mom's "nagging" and emotional apologies and even her creepy put-on Southern accent while entertaining Jim -- I believe as some sort of disturbing need to prove to herself that, in spite of her missing husband, she hasn't lost all that Southern charm -- rang true in the worst way. She clearly loves her kids, and I'm certain she means well, but I wanted to kick her in the shins when she said that "This is the prettiest [Laura] will ever be!" (1263) right after making her do that... thing. I don't even want to talk about it. That was low.
Also, I could relate with Laura uncomfortably well, so we'll say she was pretty realistic too.
Tom's arguments with Amanda/mom were also realistically familial. It's only family members who shout things like, "Every time you come in yelling that God damn "Rise and Shine!" "Rise and Shine!" I say to myself, "How lucky dead people are!" (1247). A Harry Potter (fanfiction?!) reference on the subject (at last!): "Another thing you might keep in mind," the man interrupted, "is that quite often family members are the ones who say the very foulest things of all. Think about it. People will say things to their family that they would never dream of saying to a mere acquaintance. The closer the bond, the more willing people are to test it to its limit."
-A Year Like None Other, by AspenintheSunlight
But anyway, all the random music filtering into the scene to suit the mood was certainly nonrealistic, and everything was a little less realistic because of the whole time warp/memory play thing Tom was going on about. Also, his walking in and out of Narrator Mode willy nilly was nonrealistic.
How is it that no one warned me that Bicentennial Man is the saddest movie known to mankind? I mean... I should have figured it out for myself, given that the short story was pretty sad, and the lead actor was Robin Williams, but... I underestimated the extent. Lesson learned.
Everyone knows that movie posters are better auf Deutsch.
All right, so Plot.
Let's start with the obvious, shall we? In the short story, Andrew does not go gallivanting across the country in search of a companion. And also he does not get married, to a human, no less. That completely changes the theme, the way I see it, but I'll get into that later. The addition of Little Miss's wedding adds depth to the relationship between Andrew and Sir, as well. It shows that Sir's greatest fear is of everyone leaving him, and it justifies his later irrational anger at Andrew's desire for freedom. And in general, there is a bit more detail to the plot, because less time has to be spent on setting in a movie than in a short story, as the audience can clearly see the setting, whereas in the short story, one must rely on words. Another example of this is Andrew's creepy hovering at the dinner table when he first arrives at the family, and his getting pushed out the window, as well as his shattering of Little Miss's crystal horse; it adds dimension to the rocky start that the reader only suspects Andrew probably had.
As to point of view...
It wasn't one of those movies with a narrator built in. However, there was the addition of some subtitles saying things like "In the not so distant future...." and "Many years later...." Essentially, though, the point of view was the same. Since it was Andrew's story, we rarely if ever saw a scene without him as the central character. Therefore, the point of view was third-person omniscient. I also think it was slightly less limited than the short story could have been argued to be because it lacked the biased interludes of prose. We see Andrew's reactions, but we get no concrete words to describe them, so they are left open to interpretation, as are the reactions of all the other characters.
A lot of the plot differences contributed to the differences in characterization, as well.
For instance, when Little Miss gives him her stuffed animal named Woofy in return for the wooden horse figurine, it strengthens their bond as characters. It also makes the last moments of Little Miss' life much more *cringe* tender, because she was holding the little old horse figurine in her wrinkled, nearly-dead hands. It also tenderizes (seewhatIdidthere?) the moment when Andrew takes in the stray puppy, and later we find out he's named it Woofy after the stuffed animal Little Miss gave him. These are examples of indirect characterization, but direct characterization isn't something one sees in movies a lot. Speaking of referring to oneself as one, Andrew does that a lot in this film, but he stops when he is freed by Sir. This strengthens the development of both characters because it shows both Andrew's value for freedom and Sir's care-in-spite-of-anger/hurt/bitterness when he notices the change. And I loved how in the movie, Andrew is afraid of heights because of when the mean other Miss makes him jump out the window. Also, when Andrew runs off looking for other robots like him, it makes his character more sympathetic, as the audience begins to see the loneliness of his condition. Also also, it reminded me of this:
In the short story, the theme was more about the foolishness of bigotry and the values of freedom. In the movie adaptation, the theme was more about the importance of love and companionship to the human condition, and how time inevitably changes all that and leaves people brokenhearted until they die too, perpetuating the cycle. Ahem. I don't like when movies try to make that seem okay. In analyzing how this happened, I'm going to first point out the addition of the piano scenes with Andrew and Little Miss. It would seem that piano scenes conveying sentimentality are a pop cultural favorite in film adaptations. Check out this blatantly illegal recording someone did of the latest Harry Potter to see what I mean:
Also, Sir starts us on this path early with his "lessons" to teach Andrew what he hasn't been programmed to know, one or two of which included The Birds and the Bees, for sure. Also also, he... you know... marries Portia and dies holding her hand.
HEY. They made it look like he didn't even ever know that he was declared a man! Whaaat's theee deeaaal wiiiith thaaaaaat??? I suppose they were trying to make some kind of point. It doesn't matter what other people think. What matters is what you know in your heart. Blaaaah blaaah blaaaah it STILL would have made Andrew happy. Instead, he just died.
I'm going to assume the girl android with the dancing-->temper-->skin was just incorrect. I know she's a robot and all, but... Andrew knew. Otherwise, Christmas is canceled.
"The Lottery" reminded me of The Hunger Games. I would also like to say that I missed who the antagonist of the story is because I was too excited about Mr. Costello making a Harry Potter reference. And ALSO saying schadenfreude! It was a good day. Oh! Also, I have read The Giver, and we said the settings seemed similar; I didn't like that story at all either. The babies die.
I thought this story was about tradition, and how sometimes it's sort of senselessly carried out. Annnnnd, um... the point of view is significant because the narrator is an objective but omniscient party. And the protagonist, I got, was the town. The title was ironic because the lottery is a frivolous thing people do in meager hopes that something great will come of it, whereas this lottery is a decidedly grave matter of deciding who gets stoned to death.
I'm not sure why anybody does anything in "Bartleby the Scrivener," to be honest, so I'm choosing to answer the question that's entirely opinion-based and personal.
14. Trace your emotional reaction to Bartleby as he is revealed in the story.
My initial reaction was that he was a hard worker and a lot less quirkily annoying than Turkey, Nippers and Ginger Nut. Also, his name was not as weird as theirs, even though it reminded me vaguely of Beedle the Bard and Rufus Scrimgeour combined.
Then when he started saying he would prefer not to do things, I was startled by the backbone this guy who seemed dead to the world was showing. I mean, on page 660 and at the end of paragraph 110, he is actually described as "mildly cadaverous." How is one "mildly cadaverous"? A cadaver is a dead body. Goodness.
Then he got increasingly creepy, and I stopped liking him altogether and started hoping that everybody else would just evacuate the premises or something and forget about him because he was scary scary scary, and he was probably just creepy enough to end up in my nightmares. I'll keep you posted.
Also, just so everyone knows, I read these things aloud to myself in order to ensure that I don't fall asleep while reading them because I always fall asleep when I read things because I am always sleepy, and I sound really grouchy and am sorry, and now I am hoarse because this story is VERY LONG, and I guess I just admitted that I hadn't read it yet in class today, which is embarrassing but I had read a third ofit.... I like long sentences. Only writing them, though. Not reading them. Then I get mad.
