The Shurley Method

"Books and loud noises, flowers and electric shocks-- already in the infant mind these couples were compromisingly linked; and after two hundred repetitions of the same or a similar lesson would be wedded indissolubly." - p. 21/22

That's called Neo-Pavlovian Conditioning, apparently. It's alluding to the Pavlov's Dogs experiment, which Ms. Schembra pounded into our brains day after day in health class; it also comes up when I'm at the library, and the sound of books thundering (and sometimes tumbling unpredictably in crazy-making individual doses) onto the conveyor belt calls me immediately to retrieve the asparagus key to unlock the door so I don't have to WAIT for the conveyor, because that would be ridiculous. Usually. Tangents are great. *broad hand gesture*

Huxley also alludes to Henry Ford, who is apparently a Godlike figure in the lives of these Greek letters in A.F.214. They make the sign of the T, which made a lot more sense when my half-sleeping car-ride-addled brain concluded that it stood for Ford. Now I am confused again. And generally they just say Ford where people nowadays might say God. Maybe in 1932 they said "Lord" instead. That would be a more satisfying substitute, in that case.

I would also like to address this concept of hypnopœdia. I'm terribly sorry to say that it just dooooesn't work like that. I know this because I recorded myself reading my AP US History outlines and played them while I slept in the day(s) leading up to my first semester final, and I still got... I don't remember... but it didn't work, is my point. The only part that worked was the part where I read it the first time. Now it's saved in a random playlist on iTunes, and occasionally when it's on shuffle, I have to lunge for the space bar in an effort to avoid being conscious while listening to my own voice. Also, they're teaching the children mean things. Azi says "stupid" is a bad word.

Also, this:

"Not so much like drops of water, though water, it is true, can wear holes in the hardest granite; rather, drops of liquid sealing-wax, drops that adhere, incrust, incorporate themselves with what they fall on, till finally the rock is all one scarlet blob."

There are so many things about that paragraph that bother me. Not in the sense that I am actually at this point harboring ill will toward Aldous Huxley, but in the sense that... actually, I am. Not only is that sentence excessive-sarcastic-air-quoting lacking both a subject noun and verb, if I'm not mistaken, which assumes bravely (pun?) that we will connect the description to his previous paragraph about the overall process of hypnopœdia, but also it ends a thing in a preposition, which I really try to avoid even though nobody cares except for me, and also he used the form of "till" that means "to prepare land for the raising of crops." And "sibilant with categorical imperative"? Come on. Preposition. You know he's just showing off. Preposition.

It is actually pretty sick that I still remember that, so... take from that what you will.

Adam and Even

"Sweet and beloved Elizabeth!" I read and re-read her letter, and some softened feelings stole into my heart, and dared to whisper paradisiacal dreams of love and joy; but the apple was already eaten, and the angel's arm bared to drive me from all hope." - p. 139

I thought it was interesting how focused the story has been on Adam and Eve parallels. The orange phrase is an allusive way of saying, "...but the deed was done." Mario recognized himself as having been created in a way similar to Adam's creation in Paradise Lost, which I've never read, and then he realized what he was missing--his Eve, apparently. He also made the same mistake of wanting knowledge, wanting to learn the ways and affections of humans, and he started wanting things that society wasn't prepared to provide for him, even if they were due him.

It's unfortunate for Mario because, unlike Adam and Eve, he didn't eat any forbidden apples, at first. It was the problem of Frankenstein having played God when he wasn't prepared to love his creation. That's what prompted Mario's vulnerability to the rest of the terrified and confused world.

P.S. I think Frankenstein's monster is in my house. (Note that I am referring to him as monster again. I don't care how sorry he is. Pooms-pachacha.)

But seriously, my nephew was over, and he was like, "But who eated the Goldfish cwackers?" And I was like, "It wasn't me! I promise! I don't even like them!" And then he was like, "Was it a monster?" and I looked down at the book in my hand and let my mom pick up the answer.

Hopping.

"Spring" contained some lovely alliteration, which always just makes everything better. We had "long and lovely and lush" weeds in wheels, and there were five consecutive lines that began with the "th-" sound.

Also, there was an allusion to the Garden of Eden, which brings about the whole theme of the poem. Youth is finite; innocence is temporary, as we recall from Adam and Eve's first sin. Likewise, spring doesn't last forever. Winter inevitably arrives.

EB blogged about how the poem reminded her of Easter, and I could see that; I also pointed out that the author's name is Hopkins, which is just a silly coincidence, but nonetheless.... The Garden of Eden is unquestionably religious imagery, as is "heavens" and "sinning" "Christ, lord." "O maid's child" could refer to Jesus, which would make the final stanza an invocation on behalf of the children. The speaker hopes Christ will save the "girl and boy" before they lose their innocence to sin.

The Ghost Soldiers: Pain in the Butt

"When you're afraid, really afraid, you see things you never saw before, you pay attention to the world." - p. 183

That makes me think about adrenaline junkies.

...Sorry. I really do not even like Twilight anymore.

"You don't just mess around like that. You don't just fritter away all your luck." - p. 187

That concept of using up a certain lifetime luck quota reminded me of a semi-conscious notion that I've always had that everybody shares the same ratio of happiness to unhappiness. I like to believe that whether you die in infancy or of old age, everyone's time on earth shares an equal percentage of happiness. It's semi-conscious, of course, because now that it's completely conscious, I am forced to dismiss it. Babies... don't know happiness or unhappiness yet, really. At least I don't think so. They know comfort and discomfort, but they're babies, so mostly they're uncomfortable unless they're sleeping. That was sort of pointless, I guess.

Anyway, Azar is creepy. "Star light, star bright!" he says of the flares on page 205.

I'm not sure nursery rhyme allusions belong on the battlefield, real-time battle or otherwise.

Stockings and Church: Two-for-One Special

Actually, that's sort of like an antithesis. Stockings are quite different from church. I don't think it counts, though, because I put them together, and O'Brien very clearly separated them.

"It was his one eccentricity." - p. 111 That's an absolute, which isn't a lit term, so I won't go too much into it, but I think it ought to be a lit term.

"In many ways he was like America itself, big and strong, full of good intentions, a roll of fat jiggling at his belly, slow of foot but always plodding along, always there when you needed him, a believer in the virtues of simplicity and directness and hard labor. Like his country, too, Dobbins was drawn toward sentimentality." - p. 111

That there was a simile, for sure. It was a simile so convincing it was almost a metaphor, except he used "like" because he isn't pretentious. Thank you, O'Brien. Every time I read that quote, I think more about what it means for America than what it means for the Dobbins fellow. I can't decide if it's a positive image. I think, more than anything, it's just realistic.

[font change to illustrate chapter transition....]

I believe I spotted an allusion on page 113: "...though the younger one performed a washing motion with his hands. No one could decide what it meant." The fact that nobody could decide what it meant sort of destroys any say I have on the subject, but it made me think of Pontius Pilate and also the conspirators in Julius Caesar. That idea was also sort of destroyed by the smiling and hand washing on page 114. Also, Henry Dobbins does it on 117, but he hasn't a clue what it means more than anybody else does. I guess he thinks it's good manners.

How to Tell a True War Story: Coozes and Gook

I found lots of aphorisms in this chapter....

"If you don't care for obscenity, you don't care for the truth; if you don't care for the truth, watch how you vote." - p. 66

"Hear that quiet, man? That quiet--just listen." - p. 74

"You're never more alive than when you're almost dead." - p. 78

This guy writes beautifully, by the way. I'm sort of glowing green right now. I think it's the anaphoras that do it, by and large.

"And in the end, of course, a true war story is never about war. It's about sunlight. It's about the special way that dawn spreads out on a river when you know you must cross the river and march into the mountains and do things you are afraid to do. It's about love and memory. It's about sorrow. It's about sisters who never write back and people who never listen." - p. 81

Also, the parallel structure he uses for serious vamps up the intensity for me. I'd map it out for you in one of those trippy sentence diagrams if I could. Maybe I'll come back for that later.

Speaking of using "you" in formal writing, I'd like to address Mr. O'Brien's POV schizophrenia. He starts out in third-person omniscient, switches to first-person, then changes all willy-nilly to second-person as he pleases, if I'm not mistaken. What's it all about, Alfie?

Actually, I like it, but still.

It's probably also worth noting that dearest Timothy (<--maybe) alludes to the Star-Spangled Banner on page seventy-seven in the words "the rocket's red glare." I'm on a strike against typing all of the long quotes. Get the picket signs, folks. Just kidding.

Anywho, "gook" and "cooze" are funny words, which means crazy dialects are at work here. Somebody call the newspaper. They cropped up over and over, too. I'm not complaining; they made me giggle.

That's all I have to say about that. (...Anyone? Bueller?)

On the Rainy River: That's (Almost) in Canada

It make sense, if you listen carefully, I promise.

I'm seeing a lot of similarities between Tim Obrien's feelings about the Vietnam War and some people's feelings about the War on Terror. I don't really want to go to into that because I don't want to step on any toes and/or accidentally reveal my own tentative opinions.

"I feared" is used as an anaphora on page forty-two.... He uses it to really drive home the point that he was scared out of his pants by the whole being-drafted thing. That's what this whole chapter is, really; it was pretty intense... (like camping).

There's also a simile I almost feel is sort of extended. It's just so blatant and clear; I like it. It's not like those sneaky, pretentious metaphors. "Courage, I seemed to think, comes to us in finite quantities, like an inheritance, and by being frugal and stashing it away and letting it earn interest, we steadily increase our moral capital in preparation for that day when the amount must be drawn down." - p. 38

Finally, there's an allusion (I think?) to McCarthy in here. I might just be calling it that because I'm excited that I vaguely remember who McCarthy is. It's not veiled or anything, though. He just says, "Nothing radical, no hothead stuff, just ringing a few doorbells for Gene McCarthy, composing a few tedious, uninspired editorials for the campus newspaper." - p. 39

I Forgot to Give This Chapter a Title

It's funny to me that Jake feels the need to explain to his audience what an aficionado is, but he expects them to know what "getting tight" means.

In any case, when Brett says, "My God, isn't he beautiful?" in reference to Romero on page 144, it's an invocation. She is talking to God, although she can't see Him and is not religious, so she is unlikely to believe that God is always everywhere. It's worth noting, I suppose, that some people use the phrase more as an interjection than as an appeal.

Additionally, Mike mocks Robert for his allusion to Circe, mythological daughter of the Sun who turns men to pigs. While I can certainly see Mike's point, Robert's allusion makes an astute excuse for his behavior. He simultaneously implies that Brett is supernaturally beautiful and pleads for forgiveness for his pigheadedness. This also serves as a reminder from Hemingway that Robert writes for a living, and the audience recalls the beginning of the novel for a moment.

Irony and Pity

"'Irony and Pity. When you're feeling... Oh, Give them Irony and Give them Pity. Oh, Give them Irony. When they're feeling... Just a little irony. Just a little pity...' He kept on singing until he came down-stairs."

I suspect that "Irony and Pity" is the name of that song as well as the refrain because that's generally what people remember of a song, and it looks as though Bill has forgotten most of the rest of the words. Bill wants Jake to use more irony and pity, but it's not natural to Jake, so Bill is... singing about it. I suppose this is more indirect characterization, as it doesn't do much for the plot.

Chapter twelve contains a significant amount of imagery, as well, which mostly appears on pages 122 and 124. The wild strawberries and tumbling river paint a vivid picture in the readers' minds, which seems to be appreciated in the world of literary classics.

Also, I talked to Mary yesterday and the day before, and she put me on the lookout for an allusion to the Scopes trial that she caught, and I think I found it. "'First the egg,' said Bill. 'Then the chicken. Even Bryan could see that.'" President William Jennings Bryan opposed the teaching of evolution in schools, and Bill means that even Bryan knew that the egg must come before the chicken, even if he didn't believe in the evolution of various eggs.... I don't think I said that clearly, so I will link to this page, which I just tried to read after looking back at my copy of the book, in which I cryptically circled "Bryan" repeatedly.

Traveling and Receptions and Stuff

"'We have got the loveliest hotel,' Mike said. 'I think it's a brothel!'"

I'm confused. Such is irony, I am inclined to believe. In this case, it would be irony of the verbal variety. He's making a little joke, I think. On a related note, if you've ever been confused about what is and is not ironic, you should check out this link.

Also, not to beat a dead horse, but I think the diction in this novel is its most interesting facet. If I were to preface a statement of mild importance with "I say," today, somebody would mock me relentlessly. Also again, I don't know what it means to be "a little tight." This is why I prefer reading Harry Potter relentlessly to actually picking up much that's new; I know what all of the words mean, and it makes me feel smart because that's a lot of words, even if I have recently discovered that the local library shelves them with the juvenile books.

I believe there is an allusion to the Ku Klux Klan on page 93. "'It's enough to make a man join the Klan,' Bill said." I don't trust that Bill character. He says it because he's irritated with the service on the train and believes it to be the product of his religious beliefs--Protestantism. This angers him, but joining the Klan seems a rather non sequitur course of action. It's like he's saying the Catholics are being mean to him, so he's going to join a gang of white supremacists, of whom many are probably Catholic, and secretly kill everybody who's black, gay, Jewish, or otherwise different. I think that's probably enough for now.

Frances PWNS Robert

In the middle of her tirade directed toward Robert Cohn for his reversal of plans to marry her, Frances alludes to the Bible:

"I suppose that we that live by the sword shall perish by the sword." -page 57

This haughty declaration comes amidst what I would call one-half soliloquy and one-half stream of consciousness. Since this isn't a play, there will mostly always be someone else "on-stage," so... Frances wasn't really making a soliloquy. However, her rant at Robert is so explosive and long-winded that I think it ought to half-qualify. In order for her to continue for so long, I believe she must have been spouting a stream of consciousness. She cuts into Robert for a good three pages with little interruption, so I doubt she was conscious of much that went unsaid.