Reaction to Bressler's Chapter 5

As always, I found Bressler's literary criticism to be very intriguing. I will begin this reaction by briefly discussing modernity. Many historians view modernism as synonymous with the Enlightenment. It is the belief that reason is man's best guide to life, and that science could lead to "a new promised land." Postmodernism is what came out of modernity, and is essentially the rejection of modernity. With postmodernism, there is no absolute truth. Truth is a relative thing that depends on the nature and cultural and/or social influences in a person's life. I both agree and disagree with this. I believe that there can be absolute truths, but not all truth is certain and has the capability of varying. I agree with the belief that the reader creates his/her subjective picture of reality.

The term structuralism was created by the Russian Formalist Roman Jakobson. Structuralism offers the scientific view of how meaning can be achieved in literary works. A chief characteristic the focus on the structure of a literary text. Structuralists rely on the use of semiotics, which is the study of signs and systems. Claude Lévi-Strauss, a French anthropologist, influenced the structuralist approach immensely. Both structuralism and postmodernism are approaches that have been widely used to analyze literary works for years. I found both to be interesting and they perhaps will change the way I approach literary text from now on.  

Brave New World Revisited Reaction

In 1958, Brave New World Revisited was written by Aldous Huxley 27 years after Brave New World was published. In the 1958 book, Huxley discusses the increasing similarities of our world to his Brave New World. He observes that the course our world is set on will lead us to a world very much similar to Brave New World. He uses points to convey this idea such as: the problem of over-population, the acceleration of organization, more effective mass means of communication, and so on. 

Aldous Huxley spends a portion of the first part of the book talking about the issue of over-population. With human life so rapidly increasing, at some point natural resources will run out and the world's population will die out. This clearly is a large problem. Huxley discusses the idea of making life in space possible to prevent over-population, but clarifies that this would not fix anything by comparing it to when Europeans migrated to the Americas starting in the late 15th century. This comparison spoke of how the migration of the Europeans did not solve the problem of over-population at all. Furthermore, Huxley talked about how not only is the world becoming over-populated, but also the quality of the human life is going down. In the past, babies born with hereditary defects would usually not make it far past childbirth. Nowadays, however, with our society's medical care, people born with hereditary defects are not only able to survive their youth, but also reproduce. This, naturally, decreases the quality of the human life form. I found this idea to be enlightening, and interesting. It was enlightening because I honestly had not ever really thought about the world becoming over-populated before. After reading what Huxley had to say on this I was immediately interested. However, it is not a topic I would particularly like to dwell on. 

When Huxley first brought up the point of over organization, I was a little confused. So what does he mean by this? Simply put, due to the fact of our ever-increasing technology, new systems are constantly having to be put in place. By conforming to these new rules of society, people are losing their individuality. Makes sense when explained. 

Obviously effective means of mass communication are an easy tool for the government to control people. With constant repetition of the government's ideas, people eventually start to take on whatever worldview or thought is being thrown at them. Tell a lie long enough and loud enough and people will start to believe you. Huxley makes the point that democracies typically use inconspicuous repetition and subliminal messaging to control, whilst a totalitarian government is more ruthless and open open how they will control people. These ideas are similar to that of the conditioning that goes on in the Brave New World.

I believe that Aldous Huxley is simply a genius. This set of essays was concise and clear on how our world is accelerating quickly into his Brave New World. It was incredibly interesting to read. Also, he did not just leave the reader hanging there feeling depressed about where are world is headed, he also talked of a solution. This solution is the education of freedom.  Huxley made the analogy of a bird to convey his solution clearly. The quote he used was this, "Any bird that has learned to grub up a good living without being compelled to use its wings will soon renounce the privilege of flight and remain forever grounded." 

Reaction to Brave New World

To be honest, I found Aldous Huxley's Brave New World to be very odd. That is not to say that I did not enjoy it, because I did--somewhat. Stories with corrupted so-called "Utopian" societies always intrigue me. Huxley's writing style was very straight-forward. Despite this, however, it was very unique and at times scattered.  In chapter three, for instance, the scene changed constantly, sometimes even sentence by sentence. His style is certainly unusual, but fantastic all the same.
It is interesting to note the irony in the title, Brave New World. The title comes from Shakespeare's The Tempest, and was spoken in the novel by the character John, or "The Savage". The reason this title is so ironic is because the society they were living in was a hidden disaster. It looked nice from the outside, but it was clear to the reader, and John as well, that this Brave New World, was quite twisted. 
Out of all of the characters in the story, John was the most interesting. With Shakespeare's works as his "bible", his incessant quoting of the plays was enjoyable. John, the protagonist of the story, could see how faulty the society was. His debate with the controller, Mustapha Mond, defined the novel in my opinion. Mond spoke of how the society was made to benefit everyone, but John, seeing through this, brought to light that the fake happiness Mond spoke of was wrong. John, however, closes the novel by hanging himself.
Overall, I think that although the novel, though interesting, was somewhat depressing. The fake happiness that the novel was based upon held an air of hopelessness. Therefore, Brave New World was not my favorite read, but it was worth reading nonetheless.

Reaction to Flannery O'Connor's A Good Man is Hard to Find

Early 20th century American writer, Flannery O'Connor wrote many celebrated short stories. Her stories have a Southern Gothic style, and the setting is typically rural or simple. I, for one, do not personally like stories set in the country as much, but her stories were interesting nonetheless.

 A Good Man is Hard to Find is about a family travelling to Florida for vacation. The story goes along as you can imagine any cramped road trip would—no one is very happy. The kids, June Star and John Wesley are terribly rude and the grandmother is always pulling the “back in my day…” speech to reprimand them. The theme of morality plays a starring role in this story. The title itself, A Good Man is Hard to Find really captures the theme. The story starts out with the grandmother reading a newspaper article about a person called “The Misfit” who escaped from prison. Thus, right away, the story embodies the theme that no one is to be trusted in this day and age. In the story, the family gets in a car-wreck and is stranded in the middle of nowhere. After waiting helplessly for a little while, an approaching car stops before them. Almost immediately, the grandmother recognizes one of the men in the car to be The Misfit and is audible about this realization. The family, minus the grandmother, is taken into the woods by The Misfit’s accomplices and is murdered. During this time, the grandmother is talking with The Misfit about morality. She pleads with him to pray, and tells him that she knows he is a good man deep down. The Misfit, however, declares he does not need help from Jesus, but despite this statement, looks somewhat torn by the grandmother’s words. Their talk continues, and finally, the grandmother’s words get to him. O’Connor describes his reaction to her words as if a “snake had bitten him”. The story comes to a finish with The Misfit shooting the grandmother three times. This clearly is not a very cheery story. Every line of the story echoed a sort of hopelessness, thus making it a depressing read. To sum up my opinion, I believe that the story’s theme was powerful and interesting; however, I did not particularly enjoy it. 

I didn't do it!

Let me start by saying that I would have gladly killed Mr. Mildew, had I not been attending my own funeral.  I am writing this alibi as a ghost, hoping to clear my name so that I may rest in peace.  I understand that you may be confused as to how I am typing this, seeing as I’m a ghost and all, but let me tell you, being a ghost isn't what the movies make it out to be.  I can’t float around and walk through walls. I have to obey the laws of physics just like you do; you simply cannot see me.  Despite popular belief, I can actually pick up objects and use them.  Unfortunately, you police folk seem to be aware of this; hence the reason I am in question for the murder of Herman Mildew.  So yes, it’s true, I did hate him.  He was the worst editor anyone could ask for.  He smelled atrocious, made fun of my spectacular work, edited it to the point of no recognition, and did I mention he smelled bad?  I am quite lenient in regard to maintaining personal hygiene, but Mr. Herman Mildew could have killed small animals with such a stench.  Let me set this straight though, I am much too classy to haunt someone of such little prestige.  Yes, I would have killed him with enthusiasm, but while I was alive!  Being dead is sort of like retirement; I’m in permanent rest-mode, thus I am much too lazy nowadays to plot the death of someone so inferior to me.  And besides all of that, I am offended by the mere suggestion that I would kill someone rather than attend MY funeral.  I am much more important than someone like THAT.

            Despite my offence on the matter, I will give further proof that I did not assassinate Mr. Mildew. Below is a copy of my very own funeral program (which, by the way, I always wanted to have my funeral service in the evening and am pleased to see that my wishes were respected):

Order of Service 

 

6:00 PM -Processional 

6:30-7:00 PM -Tributes 

7:00-7:10 PM -Obituary Reading 

7:10-7:20 PM -Final Viewing 

7:20 PM -Recessional 

            After the recessional, I sat around with my family and friends (unbeknownst to them, obviously) and enjoyed the potluck they held in my honor.  They ate apple pie and ice cream cake in loving memory of moi.  Now if you still do not believe that I was otherwise occupied during the night in question, you may ask any of the people who attended my funeral service, and they will surely tell you that you are crazy for even suspecting me.  They can also confirm that that was the night of my funeral service.  On a closing note, I cannot say I am displeased by the death of Herman Mildew. I am, in fact, quite thrilled. I will say once more though that I am far superior to him in every way and would never stoop low enough to murder him. I hope I have now cleared any question on the matter and that you will please leave me be. Thank you, and good day.

Out of all of the "Initiation Stories", Stepdaughters by Max Apple was my favorite. It was far easier to relate to than the other stories; this was perhaps because it was written most recently. The story is over the span of a few years, but is written in a short amount of pages. Stepdaughters is a coming-of-age story about a girl who participates in shot-put, a sport that is typically for males. Her mother disapproves of her going against the norm, and wishes she would pursue activities that she thinks girls her age ought to. This creates conlflict between the two characters and thus draws the reader in. I think that the story could be easily relatable for a teen because a lot of teens have difficult relationships with their parents.
This was my favorite not just because it was the most relatable, but also because it was the most interesting and enjoyable read. I found Boys and Girls to be rather depressing, and Gorilla, my Love and A&P just to be uninteresting. I did, however, like that all of the stories were in 1st person. I like reading 1st person the most because it automatically connects you to the writer and the story.

Reaction to Beowulf

When you think of the character traits that define a true hero, the protagonist Beowulf, of the epic poem Beowulf, fits all of them. He is not boastful, but honest and proud in an honorable manner. He is brave, kind, and just and always willing to help those in need. Supposedly written somewhere betwixt 700-1000 A.D., Beowulf embodies the ideas of chivalry and bravery that were so highly praised during that time period. Beowulf could be considered the Superman of that time; he represents the ideal hero figure of early England, where the poem was written.

            I did, however, find a downside to the character Beowulf. His downside is that he is practically flawless; thus making him almost inhuman and therefore not easy to relate to. The nice quality of modern day heroes is that they are typically easy to identify yourself with; this is not the case with Beowulf. In fact, I must ashamedly admit that I can relate better to the men that ran away rather than helped fight the dragon at the end of the poem, than I can to Beowulf, the hero.  You cannot relate with him; you can only simply look up to him. This, however, is not necessarily a bad thing, although it does make the story that much harder to connect with.  

For a girl, Beowulf is not exactly “favorite poem” material seeing as it is all about gore and glory and rather lacks in the romance department. However, though it is both non relatable and unromantic, the poem Beowulf is unique and interesting to read. Unique because of the length and complexity of the poem compared to most all other poems, and interesting because, well, who does not like reading a tale of people with fascinating names and the defeating of monsters every now and then? Admittedly, Beowulf would not be my first choice to read on a rainy day, or any time for that matter, it was still an intriguing tale that captured my attention.

            I feel as though I must take a moment and talk about the monster Grendel and his mum. In my opinion, Grendel loses a few points in ferocity when his mother avenges him. Not that he asked her to, seeing as he was dead, but I still could not help but feel that it made the idea of Grendel slightly more pathetic. Perhaps I am being overly critical, but the idea of an angry demon mother slightly turned me off.

            On a closing note, Beowulf was not my favorite of stories, but I did find myself actually enjoying it. I liked reading about the Scandinavian culture and trying to pronounce the character’s names was moderately enjoyable. I must admit that when I first started to read it, I was determined to hate it, however, by the end of the poem I found myself entertained and I can now officially say that it was not horrible. 

The Memory

I was nine years old. Summer air was just rolling in, and boy, the heat was intense.  It was the first day of summer break, so a sense of celebration was in the atmosphere.  Momma had been back at home, baking an apple pie like tradition stated she should.  She always made an apple pie when there was a reason to celebrate.  Just like she always made something gross like meatloaf when there was reason to mourn.  There was never any reason to mourn though, those were happy days.  I remember walking in the front door that day to our cookie-cutter, suburban home, smelling the freshly baked pie and exhaling a smile.  My little brother, John, was upstairs making a racket with the new toys my dad never neglected to buy for him.  The sound was familiar, the sound brought warmth. It was a typical day in every way, and I liked that.  We sat down for dinner at 6 o’clock and began to devour the food on our plates as if it were our last meal.  Dad told us about his day at the office as Momma wiped the food off John’s face.  I complained about the broccoli on my plate, and Momma made me eat it anyways.  Dinner would end once silence started to occur; once I stopped complaining, John stopped fussing, and Dad stopped telling us about his day.  Momma would clean the dishes, and all would be right with the world.  That day has probably been forgotten by each of my family members.  Nothing significant happened that day, but, for whatever reason, it is the one memory I cannot stop thinking of.

            A big, rough hand landed hard against my skin. My memory, my very favorite memory, shattered from my mind like a windshield in a car wreck.  A stale, moldy piece of bread was pushed in front of me.  My bonds were loosened so that I could eat.  What was the point?  That was the question I could not stop asking myself.  Why was I there?  The coldness of the dank basement I was locked in started to consume me.  I tried my best to conjure up my memory for warmth, but it would not come.  I needed my memory.  It was not even a particularly happy memory, yet I cherished it above all of the rest.  There was something about that day—something that my nine-year-old self could not have noticed until the day of my capture; the normalcy that I would never get back.  I had no idea.  I had no idea what would take place that summer.  I thought of my Momma once more.  I thought of her apple pie and our family dinners. I wonder what the family dinners are like now.  I bet Momma makes a whole lot more meatloaf.