Post by: EvangelionZeta on November 04, 2010, 09:41:42 pm
Post by: EvangelionZeta on November 04, 2010, 09:42:08 pm
Passage One: Act 1 Scene 3, Lines 60-91
Passage Two: Act 3 Scene 2, Lines 300-342
Passage Three: Act 5 Scene 1, Lines 140-173
Passage Two foregrounds the disingenuous figures at court, exemplifying within the figures of Guildenstern and Polonius the false appearances of Denmark. Polonius’ inconsistency in proclaiming “It is backed like a weasel…very like a whale” unveils the inherent hollowness of his persona; he is, as seen here, directly contradicting his own plea for authenticity in Passage One, in the process immersing himself within the disingenuous fabrication pervading Denmark. The rigid language of court in “O my lord, if my duty be too bold” furthermore embodies within Guildenstern a discrepancy between the interior of his thoughts and the exterior of his behaviour: Shakespeare is characterising the spy’s very persona as an inconsistency, lacking in the depth of certainty found in Hamlet’s encounters with death in the third passage. Between the two of these figures, what is hence established is the nature of Denmark in the wider universe of Hamlet; the audience understands that in such a forcibly contracted world, the essence of integrity and meaning is lost, resulting in a universe caught in the confines of its own darkness.
Parallel to this vision of Denmark’s court, the enigmatic behaviour of Hamlet signifies the ambiguity of observation. At one level, Hamlet’s feigned madness in declaring “it is as easy as lying” is ironically emblematic of truth; although he is merely mocking Guildenstern, Hamlet’s statement encapsulates the state of his own persona, with there being little truth to be discerned in his behaviour in the presence of others. In contrast, with the stage directions “exeunt all but Hamlet”, the audience is given a glimpse of the Dane unmasked, with the poetry in “’Tis now the very witching time of night” embodying the contrast between his solitary truthfulness and the inane prose of his acting. Thus, the audience is made aware that it is only in the interior realm of the soul – without the need for pretence – that the essence of the individual emerges.
With the outraged expression “Why, look upon you, how unworthy a thing you would make of me!”, the audience is again confronted by the visage of a man whose anger at the world is centralised in an attempt at forced understanding. In the greater scheme of Hamlet, what is thus established is the sublime intricacies of reality beyond the scope of empirical apprehension: in having Hamlet speak the words “You would pluck out the heart of my mystery”, Shakespeare is alerting to his audience the mystery of not only Hamlet, but also of life itself, in a universe which obfuscates its subjects through the acting of Polonius, Guildenstern, and even Hamlet in the company of others. With Hamlet’s understanding of death in Passage Three in mind, as well as Polonius’ ironic pleas for self-expression in the first passage, what Passage Two hence illuminates is the need for metaphysics and a retreat into realms beyond the scope of physical interaction. Only with transcendence into a world beyond the banalities of empiricism – as Hamlet exemplifies – can mankind fully comprehend its own universe.
Akin to Passage Two, Passage One envisions the corruption of Denmark, marking within the hypocrisy of Polonius the defiling forces of the state. Overgeneralised aphorisms such as “Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar” are essentially characteristic of Denmark’s inherent ambiguity; as Shakespeare depicts, this is a landscape which fails to recognise the essence of humanity’s multifarious capabilities, reducing its subjects’ individuality to the extent where Hamlet truly believes he is an avenger in his declaration in the second passage “Now could I drink hot blood”. Polonius’ attempts at tempering Laertes’ actions are also paralleled by Laertes’ own subordination of Ophelia in “remember well/what I have said to you”: Polonius and Laertes are constricting the truthfulness of others, in effect leading to desperation and madness as the action of Hamlet progresses. With the arrival on-stage of “the corpse of Ophelia” in the third passage, what Shakespeare is hence relating to his audience is the nature of a universe where order is forcibly exacted upon the individual; with the ultimate demise of all three characters in Passage One, the audience understands that the fate of Denmark’s inhabitants in this sort of world can only be fruitless.
Paradoxically, however, Polonius’ aphorisms encapsulate what should essentially be the case. With the statement “Beware/Of entrance to a quarrel”, the audience is made to recognise where human expression should truly lie, for in the greater world of Hamlet, it is the moderation of the self’s excess – embodied in Hamlet’s acceptance of his own mortality in the third passage – which serves as the facilitator for personal flourishing. Moreover, with the maxim “To thine own self be true”, what is unravelled is the nature of the tragedy of Hamlet: in essence, the prolonged revenge of Hamlet and the final deaths of the majority of the case are brought about by an inability to remain as one’s self, with the majesty of Hamlet’s reflections in the third passage clearly standing as the superior to the falseness of Passage Two. Thus, human flourishing is intrinsically dependent on a level of both self-awareness and self-fulfilment, something the audience is all too ready to accept as Hamlet finally comes to embrace his humanity at the play’s denouement.
In contrast to the horrors of Passage One and Two, Passage Three envisions transcendence in the contemplative visage of Hamlet. Compounding “imagination” and “My gorge rises at it” alerts to the audience that Hamlet has finally embraced both the marvels of thought and the necessary boundaries of the physical realm; here, Shakespeare is depicting a completed man, whose comprehension of his universe is fully developed. With the reflection “To what base uses we may return”, however, the audience understands another aspect of this new person, for it is only with an acceptance of his mortality – and particularly, the futility of life’s final resting – that Hamlet has come to this state.
Simultaneously, however, Shakespeare envisions within the final reflection of Hamlet a greater realm in the conception of death. In the almost eulogic “A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy”, what Shakespeare portrays to his audience is something akin to the afterlife, living in the words of others. The poetic reflections “Alexander returneth to dust” and “Imperious Caesar” furthermore accentuate the notion that the post-mortem persona is limitless: beyond the boundaries of actual living, the world of death is one where humanity’s potential for resplendence is realised, and where man may become akin to legend.
With the backdrop of Denmark’s court – “the King, the Queen, the courtiers” – still present, Shakespeare is hence envisioning within the contrast between corruption and transcendence the wonders of human existence – ironically, the meaningless end of death. Hamlet, in reconciling his mind with the greater forces of his universe, has been brought to a state of heightened awareness; now, more than ever, he is nobler than the Laertes he himself pronounces “a very noble youth”, acting as not merely a man, but also one whose mind is attuned to the more profound nature of reality. And as the audience witnesses, Hamlet is finally taken in this state to the zenith of his existence, for in acknowledging death, mankind’s soul is simultaneously finite and infinite, even in the ultimate quietus of silence.
Post by: EvangelionZeta on November 04, 2010, 09:48:03 pm
Passages based on CSE 2009 Practice Exam
Across the entirety of Passage Two, Austen explores the defilement of social intercourse through the characterisation of the gauche Mrs. Elton. The ironic certainty of Mrs. Elton’s appraisal of Maple Grove’s alleged beauty in “yes, I am quite aware of that” elucidates the overbearing nature of her persona; unlike the gentle Emma’s consideration for Mr Woodhouse in the third passage, Mrs. Elton is seen by the reader as aggressive in enforcing her beliefs upon the greater world around her, a behaviour clearly constructed by Austen as comical and incongruent with the expectations of gentility within 19th century society. Repetitious allusions to “the Maple Grove” and “The laurels at Maple Grove” furthermore signify the socially distortive outside presence which Mrs. Elton’s persona represents; she is effectively establishing within her language her alienation from the Highbury setting surrounding her, threatening the stability of the societal structures around her merely with her words. With the declaration “Every body who sees it is struck by its beauty”, what Austen is thus illuminating is not merely a figure worthy of satire, but one who inappropriately exaggerates the independence of Emma within Passage Three in making universal what is merely individual thought; it is such behaviour which demands the reader’s censure across the entirety of Emma, with the novel as a whole lambasting the inversion of social norms as tearing apart the fabric of societal cohesion in Regency England.
Simultaneously, the juxtaposition between Emma and Mrs. Elton indicates the merits of character which Emma appraises. In describing Emma as making “as slight a reply as she could”, in contrast to Mrs. Elton’s lengthy ramblings, the reader understands that Emma is in fact taking the superior position in the conversation by exercising a tactful moderation in her effort to ease the tension of the situation. And it is this sort of behaviour which Austen depicts as integral to well-roundedness of being, with the simplicity of the statement “Emma doubted the truth of this sentiment” expressing an insightfulness mirroring that which permeates Passage Three, in the form of the sagacious Knightley. Indeed, Emma’s balanced consideration “Many counties, I believe, are called the garden of England” invokes not only an imagery of intellect, but also a landscape beyond the confines of the immediate setting: Emma, in acknowledging the beauty of not only Highbury, but also of England as a whole, brings herself to a closer alignment with the civil unity which Austen portrays as so intrinsic to individuals in the framework of such a rich, flourishing society. This is essentially the acknowledgement which acts as Emma’s eventual completion, with the happiness of marriage alluded to within the third passage not merely being the union of romance, but also the resplendent union between Emma’s creative independence and her recognition of the ties of her relationships in the world of Emma.
Against the awkward figure of Mrs. Elton, what Emma herself embodies then is all that is good in the nature of human intercourse, acknowledging the value in appropriate behaviours and disdaining that which serves only to undermine it. Of course, as alluded to in Passage One, Emma’s being celebrated as a character is in part a result of her “active, busy mind”; beyond this however, the descriptor “Emma was silenced” perfectly exemplifies why Emma is yet the greater in contrast to the similarly creatively independent Mrs. Elton, for in her intelligence, she has also acknowledged the importance of propriety. Austen is characterising within this vision of Emma a moderate and compassionate individual, and one whose being rests in allowing for social easiness, as reflected in her promoting “the happiness of all” in Passage Three. And it is in this that Austen alludes to the flourishing of human society as a whole, for in the removal of the personal self to the societal self, an otherwise unattainable harmony is achieved; lest societal disorder eventuate, what is necessary is the individual’s recognition of its place as but only one of many inhabitants in the landscape of civilisation.
In contrast to her more measured appearance in Passage Two, Passage One colours the vivacity of Emma’s character, signifying in her independent persona a progressive vision of womanhood. With the declaration “I believe few married women are half as much mistress…as I am”, the reader recognises that Emma stands as exceptional within the context of Regency England; even within the context of Emma as a whole, she is the only single woman capable withstanding the pressures of a life without marriage, and it is in crafting Emma’s character thus that Austen allows for Emma’s creativity to surface, overcoming the barriers of her gender’s seeming impotence. Of course, there is an irony to be found in Emma’s articulating “if I were to marry, I must expect to repent it”; with the ultimate conclusion of marriage in the third passage, it is clear that this resolution will be broken, reflecting that Austen is not wholeheartedly supporting an isolated, necessarily unmarried vision of her heroine, whose statement “it is poverty only which makes celibacy contemptible” seems as out of touch as her realisation for Knightley’s love. Instead, within the course of Emma, what appears to be celebrated is a heroine capable of exercising her free will, whose disdain for societal expectations allows her the true liberty which human existence demands.
Parallel to this, the damning visions of Miss Bates provided throughout the first passage accentuate the reader’s understanding of Regency England’s rigidity. The almost aphoristic statement “A single woman, with a very narrow income, must be a ridiculous…old maid” characterises the similarly near-ubiquitous expectations of society; as Austen constructs, this is a civilisation which assesses character through circumstance, where women in particular are caught within claustrophobic confines due to a preoccupation with the superficiality of class and gender. With the excessive adjectives in “so silly – so satisfied – so smiling”, and so forth, the clouded nature of Emma’s – and society’s - judgement is further emphasised: unlike the vulgar Mrs. Elton of Passage Two, Miss Bates is a comparatively docile and kindly individual, deserving of none of Emma’s unruly scorn. That Miss Bates is “very much to the taste of everybody” is qualified with “though single and though poor” thus reflects to the reader the inverted state of such a society: for the rightful state of humankind’s civil order to be established, what is necessary is a reversal from Regency England, to a world where character is judged by what people are, rather than what they seem.
What Emma is lambasting then is not merely the fundamental social order of 19th century England, but also the prevalent attitudes towards the understanding of individuals. Emma’s decision to never marry is paradoxically ironic, and yet not; in relation to the scope of her fate in Passage Three, Emma is right to consider Mr. Woodhouse “must not class her with Isabella and Mrs. Weston”, for in declaring “Fortune I do not want”, Emma is ensuring that her love comes from the interior of her heart, rather than from the necessity of women in society to marry. Moreover, it is worthwhile to consider that even in marriage, Emma remains independent, with the physical image of her “not going form Hartfield” symbolically expressing her maintenance of individuality as herself; it is this which gains Emma the reader’s admiration, for Austen is allowing within this expression of personal affirmation a sight of perfection, beyond the confines of a society static and unrefined. Hence, the fundamental values of Emma lie in the construction of the individual: Emma’s talent is indicative of Austen’s desire for an understanding of the self, and in Emma’s independence, what is offered is not simply progression, but authenticity. As Austen depicts, attention must be paid first and foremost to the soul and the interior; it is only with this that the majesty of humanity will be revealed.
Post by: Eriny on November 05, 2010, 01:02:06 pm
Post by: spaciiey on November 05, 2010, 01:58:18 pm
Mother Who Gave Me Life, The Secret Life of Frogs and Nightfall
Harwood’s poetry at times shows us elements of regret for past events and we see this in passage one, which is the poem Mother Who Gave Me Life. In the opening stanza of passage one, Harwood writes ‘forgive me the wisdom I would not learn from you.’ By Harwood using the word ‘would’, it implies that it was actually possible to learn from her mother, but she simply chose not to at the time. This is later confirmed when she writes about ‘wild daughters becoming women.’ The ‘wild’ daughters that she refers to suggests a naivety at the time, especially due to the now more mature tone that she says this in. We also see this when she talks of the ‘anguish of seasons burning backwards through time.’ Harwood’s use of the word ‘anguish’ is evocative in that it presents a yearning to turn back time and return to when young, so that she may learn more ‘wisdom’ from her mother. This is also shown through the line break between ‘burning’ and ‘backward’, as it literally forces the reader’s eyes back across the page, almost moving backwards in thought, too. This continues towards the end of the poem when Harwood writes of the ‘ward door of heavy glass between us’, for the heavy glass also symbolises that the narrator is unable to change what has happened, and thoroughly regrets it. This is also confirmed when she writes of how the mother’s face ‘crumpled, fine threadbare linen.’ The imagery that Harwood uses here also evokes a sense of sympathy towards the mother, but in doing so, she also highlights a new-found respect, due to the mature tone of voice that is used throughout.
The idea of respect is also carried through in the poem Nightfall, and this is particularly evident when she asks ‘who can be what you were?’ In doing so, the poet illustrates to us that the father cannot be simply replaced. Also, when she goes on to write ‘link your dry hand in mine, my stick thin comforter’, she creates a quiet, melancholy but still respectful feel, through her use of assonance with the repeated ‘i’ sounds. The fact that he is a ‘comforter’ also shows us how much respect the narrator has for the father, due to the connotations of the word. Also, when Harwood writes that ‘sunset exalts in its known symbols of transience,’ Harwood again highlights an element of respect and in doing so, shows us how age has its own beauty, especially through the words ‘exalts’ and ‘transience’. Harwood’s use of the verb ‘exalts’ evokes a positive image in one’s mind, due to the positive nature of such a word. This is also confirmed when Harwood writes ‘old king, your marvellous journey’s done.’ Her use of the phrase ‘old king’ again shows the extent of the respect that she has for her father, especially combined with the adjective ‘marvellous’ as marvellous is a word that also evokes a positive image in one’s mind.
In Mother Who Gave Me Life and Nightfall, we see elements of domesticity. In the closing lines of Nightfall, Harwood writes of the ‘path on which you turn home’, which is a theme that is also followed in passage one. The elements of domesticity in Mother Who Gave Me Life are more prominent, as the poem is about a mother. By comparing the mother’s face to that of ‘fine threadbare linen’, she helps to fix in our mind how strongly the theme of domesticity is placed, especially given the mature tone of voice in which this is said.
In The Secret Life of Frogs, Harwood juxtaposes the theme of innocence with a more mature tone of voice now as an adult. The placement of the opening stanza visually reminds us of the two different tones of voice we hear, which is an effect which we also see in her poem The Violets. When Harwood writes in the opening stanza how the frog’s heartbeat ‘troubles’ her warm hand, she forewarns the reader of the events to come in the poem. This is further accentuated when she rhymes the word ‘hand’ with ‘land. Because this is the first rhyme we see in the poem, it helps to draw attention to the words being said in the phrase, and it also helps to create an element of nostalgia, which is a theme that we sometimes see in Harwood’s other poems, such as the Class of 1927 set.
In stanza two, when Harwood writes how they ‘knew about atrocities’, there is still an element of innocence revealed, even though Harwood uses a strong adjective such as ‘atrocities’. When Harwood writes about how some syllables were used ‘as charms’ like Passchendaele, Mons and Gallipoli, we can see that as children they did not quite understand the magnitude and significance of the words they said, especially as they are used when the true connotations are rather the opposite. This occurs later in the poem, when Harwood tells of ‘poor George’, as while he was in a brothel, ‘every frog in the house was killed’. This example of an ‘atrocity’ is significant, for at the time, the girls did not understand the true meaning, mistakenly believing a brothel served ‘hot broth’, which highlights the innocence the narrator had at the time, contrasted with the grim realities of being an adult. Harwood’s use of the word ‘thought’ indicates how she now believes otherwise, and it shows a more mature manner of thinking.
Post by: iffets12345 on November 07, 2010, 11:40:14 pm
In Funder’s Stasiland, there is no conclusive resolution for captives of the GDR, only a stark and brutal reality. Funder’s detailed, heavy recounts of German history in Passage One early in the text envelope her reader in an atmosphere of the German mentality, her inter-cutting narrative providing the irony the Western outsider can perceive. This interlacing of a dual reality, one defined by Eastern principle, the other by Western, manifests itself in Passage 2 where Funder’s emotions fail to reconcile themselves with images of “medals under glass” and the dubiously immortalized Stasi memorabilia. What succeeds in cutting through this confusion of the GDR regime is the ultimatum between moral choice and obedience seen in Frau Paul’s decision, the “no right answer” explicating the uncertainty in assessing the subjective consequences of choice against a backdrop of political pressure to conform.
Funder’s contrast of the Stasi memorabilia against the permanency of Frau Paul’s emotional pain serve to poignantly capture the chilling consequences of the GDR regime. The finality of “there was no right answer here” juxtaposed against the stale “white plaster mask of Lenin” illustrate how despite the Stasi’s disbandment, the psychological trauma inflicted transcends any “memento mori” or physical act that had occurred. Funder’s depiction of “brave woman” Frau Paul is heartfelt, the narrative concentrating on “tears” and the “spasm of pain”, centralizing Paul’s plight as a victim to the reader without any euphemisms. The alliteration in “guilt wracked wreck:” emphasizes Paul’s psychological torment as poor “resistance to damage”, one that the reader has difficulty in reconciling with the placid “sacks and sacks of paper.” The coexistence of an empty Stasi headquarters with the living pain of sufferers like Frau Paul parallels the general nature of the text- it is the seeming indifference of old Stasi members like Bock which is so like the static “old lounge chairs…television” set that represent horrors of the past in such a disturbing simplicity. Funder’s narrative propels the reader’s unease of such, as her unmoved observations of Mielke’s rooms are a stark difference to the “quiet mixture of disgust and sadness” noted elsewhere amongst demonstrators. A microcosm for the greater paradox of East Germany, “not knowing whether you want to laugh or throw up” merely captures the tumultuous emotions in living through such contradictory society.
Hence Funder explores the variations in the human condition amidst pressure to conform. Paul’s adamant “absolute no” in response to being an informer is depicted tragically by Funder as “she does not look like a woman who was saved from anything.” Despite such difficulty in coping, Funder contests that it is precisely this will to have “the courage to do the right thing” amongst great external pressure that truly celebrates the strengths in humanity, promoting pursuit of morality to the reader. Opposing this is the disparaging portrayal of the Stasi psychologist in passage 2, whose inability to “bat an eyelid” and Funder’s credulous repetition of his words, “stuff like that” earn the reader’s scorn. That Paul’s suffering in Passage 3 is condensed into the colloquial “stuff” sparks reader outrage, as the desensitization of those who conform grates terribly against the reality of victims and “why they didn’t get into university, why they couldn’t find a job, or which friend told Them”. The willingness of people to inform on their country mean” becomes centred by Funder as something unique to the East German psyche, as the question of obeying the GDR “comes down to something in the German mentality.” Seen in Herr Christian’s belief in abiding by laws, Funder thus highlights how the cultural “drive for order and thoroughness” becomes manipulated by political forces in order to attain power of civilians, while the individual battles of those like Paul and Koch demonstrate how human spirit permeates collective social conditioning.
Difficulties in reconciling the past mentality of the GDR with the present, westernized world of freedom are captured in the conflict between Funder’s emotions and those of others around her. While Funder is appalled by the sheer magnitude of “173,000 informers”, the declaration “I lived normally” by the cleaning woman in passage 2 illustrates the stark disparity between the western reader’s understanding of the world and secular East German society. That the cleaning woman metaphorically “can’t get these tables clean” alludes to how she “gives up on [Funder]” and the inability in reaching an understanding with non-Ossis, her mentality still entrenched in the relativity of the GDR regime. Such comparisons of the past and present manifest in Funder’s viewing of the videotape in Passage 2, where she mulls “there is no parallel in history” for the incredulous events in the GDR until the “footfall” of the cleaning woman’s interruption bring Funder to the present, an incoherent break in Funder’s narrative rhythm equaling the general confused state of present Germany after it’s historic yet tumultuous events. Similarly, though Frau Paul may feel triumph for her moral strength, that “she is now, for her principles” a sad figure in the present illustrates how the nature of East Germany, molded from GDR doctrine, transcends time until it becomes a paradox of nostalgic, stifled “fifties yellow-green colour” coupled with contradictory, tentative movements of freedom in being “entitled to know the real names of the Stasi officers and informers who spied on you.” Funder’s description of East Germany in such a misfit manner, where empty “quarters” “of well-kept impoverishment” exist as testament to a past still pervasive in the mentality of the Ossis, portray to the reader East Germany as an anachronism still in a healing transition.
Stasiland reveals the inner incoherencies amongst a country superficially labeled as war-torn and suffering from dictatorship. Funder, in her contemplative narrative suggests to the reader that underneath such preconceptions lies a complex psychological framework struggling to evolve amidst the developing Westernized present. As Passage 2 and 1 mix the physicality of history with the present emotions of the Ossis, Funder illustrates how the GDR’s regime has resulted in either the desensitization of its civilians or psychological trauma for those dissidents. It is the reality of Frau Paul’s emotional turmoil that illustrates the extent of the GDR’s regime’s destructive tendencies, as the stark angst of her maternal and moral instincts are unable to reconcile with the external pressures of the Stasi. The dichotomy of Funder’s cold, observant outlook on the GDR and her passionate descriptions of its victims’ plights contribute to her portrayal of East German as a broken body with unsteady foundations.
Post by: simpak on November 10, 2010, 08:52:51 am
I would post them up but I kind of sold them to TSFX and signed a 'I will not distribute these on the internet' contract :3
Post by: Ak47 on December 06, 2010, 03:18:18 pm
Post by: selina77 on December 20, 2010, 10:47:13 pm
Hamlet:
Act 4 Scene 1 (1-45 area)
Act 4 Scene 3 (sort of between lines 20- 63)
Act 4 Scene 5 (25-55)
Claudius’ remark “thy loving father, Hamlet” establishes his duplicitous nature and alludes to the wider context of feigned identity in Shakespeare’s play. The dramatic irony of this comment lies with the audience’s knowledge of Claudius’ cunning plan to warrant Hamlet’s execution in England – a journey that is diplomatically disguised as a gesture of parental concern. Indeed, Claudius’ true rejection of Hamlet as a son is demonstrated in passage 3 when he casts responsibility for Hamlet onto Gertrude, as “your son” which is a direct contradiction of previous references to “my son”. Ophelia’s insightful exclamation in her madness that “we know not what we may become” epitomises Shakespeare’s elucidation to the myriad of roles each character adopts, in particular, Hamlet’s “antic disposition”.
Despite the superficial acquiescence between Claudius and Hamlet in passage 1, Shakespeare hints at their underlying conflict by utilising contradictory statements. The nature imagery of “fiery quickness” is juxtaposed with “coldly set” in order to reflect the simmering tension between two men in conflict with each other. Furthermore, their controlled yet obvious contempt for one another is emphasised in Claudius’ double entendre “so is it if thou knew’st thy purposes”, as this statement carries a sinister reference to Hamlet’s planned execution in England.
However, they share a mutual fascination with the “undiscovered country” of death, as Claudius mulls over the consequences of his mortal sins in his soliloquy. This fear similarly predisposes Hamlet to rationalise existence, as the opposition of “burning zone” and “snow” metaphorically symbolises his inability to comprehend the relationship between hell and heaven. Shakespeare suggests that Hamlet’s efforts are fruitless, as Ophelia’s statement “no words” coupled with the recurrent phrase “no more” is indicative of mankind’s inability to derive definite answers from human experience on earth.
Shakespeare utilises convoluted language in Hamlet’s speech to reflect his internal confusion and contempt for Claudius, however, there seems to be “method in this madness”. His view that “man and wife is one flesh” possibly provides an explanation for his concern with “my mother” and her marriage to Claudius, as he views their sexual relationship as a way of fuelling the “contagion” and corruption of Gertrude’s own soul. Hamlet exhibits similar distress towards Ophelia’s involvement in the corruption of the state, as she represents a “Rose of May” planted in an “unweeded garden” bound for submission to a world that is “rank and gross in nature”. Thus, Hamlet’s belief that the women in his life have been corrupted by a “rotten” society causes him to admire Ophelia’s virtues in the past tense when he exclaims “I loved Ophelia” and “I loved you ever”.
Whilst providing the audience with insights into his spiritual dilemma, Hamlet’s madness appears to momentarily transform into a genuine “antic disposition” following his murder of Polonius. Shakespeare dramatically contrasts the trap of Polonius waiting behind the arras with Hamlet’s own existential crisis and perceptions of Denmark as a “prison” to represent the culmination of his tormented soul. Claudius’ speech “delay it not” and “quickness” further exemplifies the gradual expression of the fury established in Hamlet’s first soliloquy. Indeed, Hamlet begins to “make haste” and becomes consumed by his initially feigned madness in the callous murder of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Shakespeare is perhaps highlighting the fine line between performing and eventually embodying one’s pretences, once again reminiscent of Ophelia’s line “know what we may not be”.
Although Hamlet’s “distracted globe” overshadows his rational thought, fulfilling his desire to “empty the book and volume of my brain”, the resurrection of his rational mind displays the prevailing identity of “I Hamlet, the Dane”. In contrast, Ophelia’s madness is permanent and pure in its domination over her passive soul. Her nonsensical song is indicative of the trauma induced by “dead and gone” love, as her father is slain at the hand of Hamlet who is “gone” for England. Furthermore, Hamlet’s use of personal pronouns such as “I see” is not evident in Ophelia’s speech, as she is dependent upon another identity “I…at your window”, “I your true love” and “your Valentine”. She seems to have succumbed to her objectification from Polonius, as he spoke to her in terms of “sterling” commodities. Thus, Shakespeare creates an image of a woman submitting to the whims of others, adding significance to her promise to “obey my lord”.
Shakespeare’s Hamlet explores the devastating consequences of individual turmoil and its effects on society as a whole. Whilst Hamlet recovers from his ephemeral madness, the “fair” and virtuous Ophelia is “poisoned” by the corruption of her society. By ending Hamlet’s life when he finally begins to accept the ambiguity of existence, Shakespeare suggests that Denmark’s debauched nature eradicates all “noble” qualities in men. Claudius, as the definitive representation of corruption, voices Shakespeare’s view of a society desperately seeking salvation through his plea for a remedy to “cure me”.
Post by: Slumdawg on December 20, 2010, 10:58:09 pm
Post by: Winter on December 21, 2010, 02:25:23 pm
These essays are amazing
Post by: selina77 on December 21, 2010, 02:28:04 pm
Post by: Menang on December 21, 2010, 02:29:44 pm
/stunned/
Thanks posting these, I'm sure it'll be massive help for next year (especially the Hamlet ones :D)
Post by: aznboy50 on December 29, 2010, 08:45:17 pm
-Chinatown
-Cloudstreet
-Lady with the Little Dog
-Gwen Harwood Poetry
-Margaret Atwood- Moral Disorder
-Brian Friel- Freedom of the City
Especially if anyone has 'Considering alternate viewpoints' essays.
All help would be
Thank you!!!
Post by: ieatcrayons on January 17, 2011, 05:48:24 pm
Dario Fo's Accidental Death of an Anarchist responds to events unfolding in Italy in the 1960/70’s. Generally, it looks at police corruption and scandal. More specifically, it addresses the actual death of an anarchist who was being held in police custody following the bombing of a Milan bank. The text conveys these main concerns through the satirical characterisation of authority figures, audience alienation, indirect references and use of slapstick comedy. Gavin Richards’ 1984 television adaption in of the play maintains the same main concerns and messages accentuated by Richard’s own portrayal of the Maniac, despite major structural changes to the play’s ending.
One of the major concerns Accidental Death addresses is politics and scandal. Italy was at a point of political turmoil - the nation desired change and Fo was advocating achieving this through revolution, the radical restructuring of society, as opposed to reform, the perfecting of existing policy and structure. Fo’s ideals regarding this desired change are evident towards the play’s end, when the Maniac refers to scandal as “the fertiliser of social democracy”, implying is that scandal may result in reforms but never to true revolutionary change and that it is a tool utilised to by the government to keep the people happy and avoid revolution. Fo further emphasises this message by combining laugher with a sense of strong injustice towards authority, portraying the police characters in a humorous way, ridiculing their hierarchy of power and using slapstick humour – such as the action of the maniac blowing a raspberry to the fourth floor inspector- to help the working class audience the play was geared towards connect with this political message he was attempting to convey. Fo was advocating revolution in Accidental Death; one of the plays primary concern was politics, specifically, police corruption.
Politics and scandal is also a main concern of the Gavin Richards’ production, which further emphasises the satire of authority figures, primarily through the character of the Maniac. The Maniac is the pivotal character in Accidental Death of an Anarchist. , eclipsing all other characters in every sense. He directly mirrors the manipulations the play is attempting to expose through his interactions with the policemen, giving the audience a sense of empowerment. Richard’s himself portrays this complex character on stage, accentuated by the mere conventions of film- his masterly use of audience interaction, gags and gestures- as seen in Act one Scene One of the play in which he makes his transformation into the judge, attests to Fo's belief that political theatre with a serious intent need not be dry. The primary change in the Maniac’s character in the production is that his support of anarchy is more outwardly accepted, where towards the end of the production is that the journalist recognises him as Paulo Davidovitch Gandolpho, sports editor of Lotta Continua, left wing conspiracy newspaper. As the production’s audience are more likely to sympathise with the Maniac’s character, portraying him thus is perhaps a less subtle way of encouraging the audience to support Fo’s political messages regarding the support of revolution over reform. The character of the Maniac in Gavin Richard’s production of Accidental Death is the primary function with which Richard’s conveys the plays political concerns.
Above all, Accidental Death is concerned with, and based upon, the suspicious death of Pino Pinelli whilst under police questioning. The play is brimming with direct but not explicit references to the case, with the Inspector Bertozzo and the Manic being the only characters that are not based on real life figures with involvement in the case. Fo uses the dramatic device of the “removal of the 4th wall”, by which the actors interact with the audience, preventing the audience from becoming completely immersed in the play, and therefore losing touch with the realistic situation it represents. The removal of the 4th wall in evident in Act Two in which the stage directions outline that the Superintendent claps his hands and several “police spies” in the audience respond. The Manic then turns to audience, laughing and says “Don’t be alarmed, they’re drama students. The real undercover ones are trained to sit quietly.” This address about and two the audience serves as a reminder to them that they are indeed watching a play. Accidental Death is primarily concerned with the Pinelli case.
Naturally, Richard’s production too addresses the Pinelli case, however it differs from the original in two most startling ways: the production has an admission of guilt from the policemen in regards to the Anarchist’s questionable fate- “you bloody pushed him” – which is quite a contrast to Fo’s subtle assertions of the policemen’s responsibility. The production also differs from Fo’s original in its final scene; the original, circular ending which leaves the audience with the assumption that the Maniac has fallen from the window is abandoned and replaced with two very resolved endings: the journalist is given the ultimatum of running from the bomb or staying to free the policemen and the viewer watches both alternatives. Fo desired to leave the audience changed, to provoke their thoughts and the key to this is the play’s circular, irresolute conclusion. Assumedly the resolution given in Richard’s production was due, in part, to the differing medium- and echo of the classic Hollywood happy ending – however, Fo’s allusions to the resolution of the Pineli case are more effective in achieving his aim in provoking thought when argued through as opposed to blandly stated. Richard’s is production is also based upon the Pineli case, although he uses changes to the plays ending to enhance this importance.
Fo’s play, primarily addressing politics and the Pineli case, is adequately represented by Gavin Richard’s 1984 production, although Richard’s has made significant changes to the sense of resolution in the play, primarily through structural changes to the plays ending. Ultimately, translation from script to screen will result in the play being changed, as it is the director’s interpretation of the original, and also subject to the generic conventions of its medium.
Post by: ieatcrayons on January 17, 2011, 05:55:16 pm
“The old man...Whose temperament, or aristocratic pride, or lack of English or contempt for the conventions of the place, made it impossible for him to take employment, but who saw nothing shameful in having his wife drudge sixteen hours a day...”
Malouf carefully presents observations and reflections on his past that aim to convey the dominant beliefs and attitudes of societies and how these influence individuals. He refrains from questioning or challenging societal norms or individual actions because of them, rather he presents a neutral retelling of events. Do you agree?
In 12 Edmondstone Street Malouf presents an objective view upon societal beliefs and attitudes through observations and reflections upon his past. Readers from Malouf’s own generation would perhaps have more of an appreciation for these observations and reflections as they may share some of his experiences. Some of the beliefs and attitudes he explores include social structure, gender roles and religious customs and beliefs. Regardless of his neutral narration Malouf also cleverly expresses his personal views and values throughout the novel.
A major influence upon society in Malouf’s time, particularly Australian society, was the importance of social structure and conventions. He describes the Front Room in the house and how it is symbolic of “a warning, richly put, against easy pleasures and the dangers of ‘the social life” and he also uses the symbol of the dirty, unmarried, smoking pregnant woman to personify many of the things 1940’s Australian society considered socially unacceptable. This use of symbolism conveys to the reader what the social conventions of the time were through indirect means, therefore showing them what the social conventions were in a neutral and un-opinionated manner.
Another of the societal norms that 12 Edmondstone Street explores is gender roles and their effect on people. Malouf shows these gender roles through the use of metaphor, by displaying the upper part of the house, where the cooking, cleaning and washing is done as the woman’s domain and the under house where the men do their physical work etc are kept as the men’s domain. This is explored not only in Australian society but in Italian as well. Malouf observes “The kitchen in these houses is the women’s room; men, if they are not eating are expected to in the felids or at the bar. These rigid gender roles of and common perceptions of male dominance and female passiveness are purely explored in the novel. There is no implied judgement, no obvious expression of frustration from the women at this patriarchal society, Malouf portrays it as nothing more than a socially accepted convention of the time.
Malouf’s novel also conveys the influence of religious custom and beliefs upon both eastern and western societies. In 12 Edmondstone Street , one sees the strict following religious customs had in 1940’s Brisbane, particularly when the novel speaks of the domineering presence of David’s grandmother and how “[his] mother h ad lost several good housekeepers” through their failure to submit to the “rudiments of the faith”. This portrayal of the way in which society and religion interact has changed enormously in contemporary Australia, where people have become much less devotional. The novel also shows a little of the religious customs of Hinduism when Malouf speaks of how “cows freely roam the streets”. The fact that Malouf details the religious customs of two almost opposing faiths shows his objectivity in the novel.
Malouf’s style of objective narration in regards to the social norms of his time certainly doesn’t mean that the novel conveys none of his own personal beliefs, attitudes and opinions. There a brief moments throughout the text in which the author addresses to the reader his opinion in an abundantly clear manner. One of the views Malouf endorses in the novel is the importance of the journey as opposed to the destination. This is shown in the chapter where he describes the filming he does in the Italian village. Although the entire chapter is dedicated to the filming, the reader never discovers anything of the outcome of it. The intense imagery, in particularly the descriptive language utilised in the encourages the reader to feel as though they themself are experiencing the journey alongside Malouf. The novel also shows how Malouf criticises the consumer oriented, capitalist nature of contemporary Australian society when it discusses how India’s economy is more ‘real’: “The real economy which is going on about us and consists of millions of hands engaged in the simplest tasks”, and therefore how India is further off from the” distant, inconceivable end.” Malouf’ objective nature of showing the attitudes and beliefs of his society does not limit him from expressing his personal views throughout the novel.
In 12 Edmondstone street Malouf conveys the values and beliefs of three societies; 20th century Brisbane, India and Italy. He objectively conveys to the reader the beliefs and attitudes of the time without questioning or challenging views, however this does not limit him from expressing his personal views and values throughout the novel.
Post by: ieatcrayons on January 17, 2011, 10:23:27 pm
Water is a film about conflict; primarily the conflict of conscience and faith. Set in 1938, a time of great social and political change for India, with the rise of Ghandi and his followers and their desire for freedom from colonial rule, Mehta’s film features the plight of a group of outcast Hindu widows and the injustice they suffer. Leigh Singer’s ultimately positive review of Water for Channel 4 Brittan, addresses this major concern:
Singer addresses the symbol of water as a key aspect of the film; however she does not consider some of its associated concepts. She refers to water as a “powerful symbol throughout” the film, and speaks of the importance of the Gangees river to the widows lives, and how “drops of rain first bring Narayan and Kalyani into contact.” While these are valid and significant points Singer overlooks water representing purity, primarily shown in the film through the people cleansing themselves in the river, and the involvement of holy water in many of the widow’s religious rituals. Singer’s review addresses the importance of water as a symbol in the film, however she overlooks it’s representation of purity.
The reviewer comments on the films visual elements; however she hardly does justice to its exquisite nature. She mentions the “stunning backdrops” and “elegant hues” featured in the film, without further analysis into the vast size and intimate detail we see in the sets, or the use of contrasting colours between the blue and green hues of the film, reflecting the sinister nature of the reality in which the widows live juxtaposed with the similarly symbolic presence of the colour white- the white saris the widows use, which is representative of their purity. The film also features beautiful cinematography; the scene where the mischievous Chuyia bites Madudidi, and is consequently chased about the ashram features delightfully effective use of a handheld camera, and the scene in which Narayan and his friend discuss Narayan’s belief in Ghandi’s ideals is wide, and having so much of the men’s surroundings in the frame represents the canvas of social change which they are discussing. Whilst Singer touches on the visual elements of the film, her review does not adequately characterise their depth.
Singer also focuses primarily on the plight of the widows, omitting some of the film’s other key concepts. The majority of the review is concerned with the “harsh treatment of widows”, providing the reader with contextual information about hard the lives women face in ashrams without reference to the concept of faith, and the religious traditions which are the reasoning behind it. This lack of distinction between the suffering of Indian women and the suffering of Hindu Women perhaps demonstrates that the reviewer has overlooked the importance of the idea of religion and its variable interpretations to the film. The reviewer also refrains from discussing the key concept of the social fabric of India; the caste system and the change they were experiencing. The reverence with which they hold the caste system is shown through the interactions of all of the characters, Shakuntala is the only widow who can read because as a Brahmin she received education, and according to Nayran’s father “Brahmins can sleep with whomever they want”. The film also features much of the social change taking place in India and the pimp character, Gulabi, represents the voice of the outside world for the widows- and consequently the viewers- bringing them news of Ghandi’s progress, and other changes in their social climate. The review also subtly hints towards a slightly feminist reading of the text with her focus upon the “powerless, disenfranchised women” and the “patriarchal domination” shown in the film, and referring to it as a “plea for progressive thinking ... applicable well outside the confines of India.” This could perhaps explain her focus upon the injustice the widows must suffer above the other key concepts of the film. Whilst Singer’s focus in the review is the primary major concern of the film – the lives of the widows- she overlooks other significant key ideas which the film features.
The reviewer insinuates that Kalyani and Nayran’s characters are “more mouthpieces than flesh-and-blood individuals”, clearly overlooking the some of the complexities in the portrayal of their on screen relationship. Kalyani and Narayan’s relationship is characterised by the many silences between them- what they avoid saying in order to mean what they intend to say- and the beauty of their wordless communication. This aspect of their characterisation is predominantly shown in the scene in which Narayan first sees Kalyani with her head shaved and understands the situation without explanations or exclamations. The reviewer’s view of Kalyani and Narayan’s character’s show that she has not considered the true depth and complexity of their relationship.
Post by: scared_of_hippies on March 21, 2011, 10:09:03 pm
Here is my essay, it's pretty okay. I hope anyway. Also, this isn't based on any actual passages, just a practice essay we did for prelimenary marking.
And yeah, there is some really weird wording and unnecessecary words.
Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein is a literary classic. Written in the 17th century, it has been widely adapted to many different forms. One such form is the film “Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein”, directed by Kenneth Branagh. The strength of Shelley’s novel is the pathos, the emotional strength, of her writing. This pathos becomes bathos within the confines of Branagh’s “Frankenstein”. This is visible when comparing the two. The birth of the monster is a scene which is powerfully imbued with pathos in the novel, while in the film; it is an emotional weakness, lacking any depth or emotional substance. This shift from pathos to bathos is then further seen within the confrontation on Mt. Blanc. Shelley creates a powerful and emotional scene, while Branagh’s is ridiculous. Thirdly, the death of Elizabeth is a scene focused on by both Shelley and Branagh. Branagh’s scene lapses into bathos with Elizabeth’s fiery death and re-birth. In contrast Shelley’s is a potent scene which propels Frankenstein onto his quest for revenge and role as a hunter.
Frankenstein’s creation of the monster is an important scene. Shelley glosses over the science, with one paragraph sufficing to explain the creation. This is vital as Shelley quickly moves onto the philosophy of the creation of life and the emotional response felt by Frankenstein at the moment of birth, as well as the “catastrophe” that Frankenstein feels he has created. Frankenstein describes the “dull yellow eye” and the “convulsive motion” of the monster. These descriptions create an ambiguity that allows the reader to create their own vision of the monster, allowing Shelley to fit the image of the monster to the readers most secret fears. This is a strong example of Shelley’s ability to create pathos, that of a sympathy for the monsters immediate rejection by its creator. Not unlike
Adams rejection by God in Genesis. In contrast, the films creation is one of bathos. This is due to Branagh’s failed attempt to re-create the pathos of the novel. Branagh focuses on the science of the creation, with an extended scene of the birth of the monster, along with an almost detailed explanation of the process involved. Branagh emphasises the science due to the audience of the film. Released in 1994, Branagh's audience is a scientifically literate one. This emphasis of the science creates an emotional weakness, by focusing to solely on the creation, and not enough on the emotional aftermath. Furthermore, by depicting the monster, Branagh loses out on the power of ambiguity, the power that allows the monster to frighten readers with their personal nightmare of the monster. The weakness of the film is then exaggerated further by the instantaneous and ridiculous creation of a lynch mob to attack the monster. The emphasis by Branagh on the science behind the creation of the monster, in stark contrast to Shelley’s glossing over of the science and the focus on the emotional response, shows that the pathos of Shelley’s novel, became the bathos of the Branagh’s film.
The climactic confrontation between the monster and Frankenstein on Mt Blanc is suffused with pathos within the novel, and bathos within the film. Shelley creates a tense and potent moment between creator and “creature”, between monster and Frankenstein, on Mt Blanc. This moment is the climax of the novel, as it is the moment wherein creator and created meet in the power of the sublime. The sublime allows Shelley to create an equality between the monster and Frankenstein, as Shelley so fervently believes the force of nature can mean “destruction upon the head of the speaker”, any speaker who decides to speak out in a “voice” too “loud” against nature. Shelley even refers to nature as an “imperial” power. This is Shelley’s way of saying that nature is the ruler, the emperor of the world, and that people are the peasants to be ruled over. This dwarfing of the trivial nature of Frankenstein and the monsters problems within the confines of the sublime creates a sense an emotional strength that allows the reader to empathise with the monster, and create a sense of pathos that is sustained throughout the text. In contrast, Branagh turns Shelley’s most emotive scene into a scene of bathos. Branagh has the confrontation taken from the immense power of Mt Blanc and the sublime, into an ice cave where Frankenstein and the monster meet, but not as the equals that Shelley intends them to be. Branagh gives the monster the upper hand, making it intrinsically clear the reversal of roles, from master and slave, Frankenstein and monster, to slave and master. Furthermore, Branagh’s removal of the sublime and the addition of the monsters innate abilities shifts the film further into bathos. The monster remembers how to play the flute, in an effort by Branagh to create pathos, but it merely emphasis the vital loss of pathos in when compared to the novel. The scene on Mt Blanc is a poignant and emotive scene, written by Shelley to be held in the hands of the power of the sublime, yet Branagh shifts this into bathos by both removing the sublime, and turning an emotive scene ridiculous.
Both Shelley and Branagh focus heavily on the death of Elizabeth. In the novel, Shelley focuses on the distraught emotional response of Frankenstein, which creates pathos within the novel. A long with the idea that it the death of Elizabeth that finally pushes Frankenstein into action against the monster. Frankenstein is held by the “agony of despair” when the death is discovered. Despite his best efforts to defend his wife, it is Frankenstein’s rejection of the monster that results in the same rejection being felt by Frankenstein, which is that there is no one to love or be loved by. Like Shelley’s creation of the monster, she does not dwell on the actual death. She quickly skips to the response of Frankenstein, and his almost immediate “resolve” for action. This furthers the Shelley’s creation of pathos. Branagh on the other hand, uses the death of Elizabeth has the emotional climax of the film which ultimately results in bathos. The murder of Elizabeth fuels Frankenstein to recreate her. It is a hypocrisy of Frankenstein, that he would create a second monster to assuage his pain and suffering but would not do it for his monster. Furthermore, Branagh uses the rebirth of Elizabeth to explain what is felt by the monster and Elizabeth. Branagh manages to create a sense of pathos here. He shows that it is not actually the process of rebirth that fuels the monsters hatred of himself, but rather the realisation by Elizabeth of her horrific physical appearance that leads to her second death. Yet Branagh lapses back into Bathos by exaggerating the death of Elizabeth. Elizabeth becomes so distraught with herself that she sets herself alight, and flees screaming down a corridor that is bursting into fire. This intense exaggeration removes the scene of any and all emotional strength and poignancy, and instead becomes a ridiculous effort by Branagh to prove himself as a director and reference the power of fire as a cleansing of the spirit. Shelley achieves a level of pathos by showing the reader Frankenstein’s need for revenge, while Branagh’s interpretation of the scene quickly dissolves into a bathetic and ridiculous scene.
Mary Shelley creates a strong sense of pathos throughout the novel. In comparison Branagh’s film lapses into bathos. The creation of the monster is focused on by both Branagh and Shelley, yet only Shelley achieves an emotional strength, while Branagh is lacking any emotional depth what so ever. Mt Blanc is the climax of Shelley’s novel, yet is merely a stepping stone for Branagh. Lastly, the death of Elizabeth is focused on heavily by Branagh as the climax of the book, while Shelley uses it to propel Frankenstein’s need for revenge.
Post by: izzykose on March 21, 2011, 10:16:46 pm
Post by: VivaTequila on May 18, 2011, 09:07:30 am
Post by: VivaTequila on May 21, 2011, 07:53:55 pm
1. My Review of Two Brothers
2. My Review of Alison Croggon's review (Theatre Notes)
3. My Review of Tom Hyland's review (Drowning in Propaganda)
1.
A Review of Hannie Raysons ‘Two Brothers’
Her play serves its purpose. That is all.
Despite how feted the play has been by Rayson’s comradely queens of controversy, the play stands alone in its unfailing, underwhelming mediocrity.
Venomous criticism? Please. The aversion from such commentary delineating the play as ‘guaranteed to stir and provoke, as good drama should’ (The Age) is just. ‘Two Brothers’, stirring and provoking? Sadly. Good drama? Debatable.
Good dramas are timeless. ‘Two Brothers’ is centred on a singular event in history, in which an odd three hundred and fifty three people drowned because of political short comings. So explain why ‘Two Brothers’ has been warped and contorted into a controversial issue in its own right, when we have such political tensions as occur in the Middle East, daily. Hundreds are brought to the slaughter, and there is undoubtedly media coverage on the issues. But the scale of enthusiasm and support for Hannie Rayson’s sad trash is alarming considering the nature of the global problems that we face today. If people turn their heads from such problems as HIV/AIDS, civil unrest and violent demonstrations, human rights abuses, and the likes, then why do we lick Rayson’s shoes?
The widespread acclaim has made the play bigger than the issue itself, but how?
Maybe it was the wit and the naturalistic expertise of Rayson in fabricating a complex, diverse range of characters with whom the reader is to build a rapport. Or maybe not, for if we look at the characters, we would find that Eggs and Tom Benedict leave – in full meaning – nothing to the imagination. You have the brothers across the two sides of the political divide; Tom and Eggs Benedict. Tom is the embodiment of the stereotypical left; a human rights advocator who has produced narcissistic hippie of a son, as a product of his entwinement with a woman who teaches a class of Abdulla’s and Chong’s. On the flip side, you would never guess that Eggs is the conservative rightist whose constant mocking of the leftist rhetoric and elitism is the antagonist of the play. Don’t even get me started on the naming scheme used for Jamie ‘Savage’. The play is just too forceful; the stereotypes have been taken to the max.
So if it wasn’t the characters, maybe it was an insightful twist to the plot of SIEV-X?
No, instead we get a one-sided interpretation of the events of SIEV-X. The climax of the play is a simple decision, faced by Lachlan (the son of... how did you guess?). If ‘dense moral territory’ encapsulates a decision on whether murder is right or not, then what has this culture come to? Isn’t it ironic that the biased interpretation that has been made by Rayson has contributed to the world viewing the Leftists as biased and near-sighted? (Thankfully, plays are appropriately classified as fictional)
No plot twist, directly borrowed and stereotyped characters, so now what? What could possibly have caused the play to receive such outright national acclaim as a piece of political prose?
Rayson shames the rhetoric of the left in her desperate attempt deliver her political message. So forceful was its delivery (believe me, Rayson, the play was loud and clear), that the military became enraged at the funding going towards such sightless garbage, and talk began about abolishing the Australia Council (the government’s arts funding body). Thankfully, John Howard cooled the situation and Rod Kemp let the council off with the warning ‘why do you insist on biting the hand that feed?’... A stellar question.
I for one would have hated to see the abolishment of the Australia Council, and even more so because an overreaction to such simple material as ‘Two Brothers’. I recognize the importance of plays that advocate Left-wing material and opinions, or else we end up in a controlled state of limited speech. This is why I find it saddening that Rayson has connoted our views with such polarity to the Right. It’s frankly no wonder they mock our rhetoric if such shallow material is being published and hailed for what is actually a tragic embodiment of our values.
Rayson wanted to deliver a political message, and deliver it forcefully at that. As if the sinking of the Kelepasan, the survival of Hazem and his story, the involvement of the military, government, and a conspiracy theory don’t allude directly to SIEV-X. Or am I mistaken in my interpretation, and it was actually referencing something else?
Then why did Rayson have to include introductory material before patrons were to view the play?
Bravissimo, Rayson.
There’s no doubt that the issue will follow the play in fading into the unspoken depths of political embarrassments.
So don’t expect anything more than a slow hand clap from me after wasting a day of my life reading this sloppy, palustral interpretation of the events of SIEV-X.
2.
Two Brothers; Critiquing the critique
Alison Croggon
Theatre Notes
Hannie Rayson’s political play Two Brothers has attracted a significant amount of attention over its blurry, hyperbolic message. Alison Croggon has presented a review of the play after seeing it in person, attributing the main cause of the debate and kerfuffle towards the teeming ambiguity in the play’s political messages. Bolt, of course, scrapes a mention in Alison’s lateral and logical evaluation of the play’s intrinsic worth, as she opines that he has missed the boat in his analysis of (what he calls) Rayson’s ‘smug vomit of hate’.
Croggon opens her review by critiquing Bolt’s reaction to his amusing mention in Rayson’s play, where he is referred to as ‘Andrew Blott’. She undermines his responses as they were diatribe, figuring that he was ‘frothing with self-righteousness’ when he savagely attacked Rayson’s play. She promptly goes on to further ridicule Bolt by analysing his tirades as he slammed her for the ‘gobs of government gold’ she ‘smacked’ up as an artist. All of this is with a reason of course; she gets to her point at long last by explaining that she raises the antics of Bolt in order to illustrate the difficulties with Two Brothers.
She rightly believes that the play is ‘morally, politically, and aesthetically confused’, as a direct result of ‘its thin fictionalising of actual people and events’, hence why Bolt mistook his moment of mention. The plot is garbage and the characters trash to match.
The Benedict Brothers have been openly based off the Costello brothers, and Croggon has rightly demonstrated that the ‘fictional characters bear little resemblance to the Costellos themselves.’ Croggon then follows up by calling the play a ‘family drama’. She believes the national politics are secondary to the family drama; Croggon says they are ‘thrown in’ in order to vamp up the ‘psychic static’.
The comment is debatable, for the play is distinctly political, and it is so with intent for Rayson in fact produced introductory material to the audience before screening the play with the MTC. Even neglecting this, the national politics are simply omnipresent in the script; the plot revolves around the sinking of the SIEV-X (which Croggon classifies as ‘suspicious’ rather than addressing as the central plot), the ideas and embodiment of the right and left side of politics in her characters, it even stems down to the language that Rayson’s fictional character’s use. If there is much of a family drama in there, it is given nowhere near the leeway that Rayson assigned for her political messages.
However, Croggon is right on the mark in pinpointing the reason Bolt demonstrates ‘his usual uncertain grasp... between fact and fiction’.
In summarising the play’s plot, she undercuts the theatrical techniques used by picking on the most clichéd aspects of the play, most notably Lachlan being in an argument with his father, (who happens to be) running for PM, on the (subtly allusive) topic of the survival of hundreds of asylum seekers on (of course) Christmas Day. This is, however, fair criticism, for the play distinctly lacks artistic credibility.
Croggon’s language in this segment is notably satirical as she sardonically uses phrases such as ‘extraordinary coincidence’ to illustrate the unbelievable extremities of the plot. She employs comic relief, calling Jamie Savage a ‘ball-tearing femocrat’. She finally rests upon the statement ‘well, you can probably guess the rest’ after ranting about the plot’s fabrication in a delightful and fair manner.
Croggon then proceeds to focus on the characterisation of Eggs specifically, and how Rayson’s political manifesto comes to be dealt with in Two Brothers. Through the use of extreme hyperbole, she highlights and accentuates the sheer monstrosity that Eggs Benedict really is, summarised; ‘a liar and a power junkie driven by naked greed’. However, the criticism is just, for her observations are true to the text and it was likely the intent of Rayson to create Eggs this way. Croggon moves into unmapped territory as she shows the seemingly unintended effect of having the political messages coming from this boisterous character; ‘Rather than making government culpability clearer, this act muddies it altogether with a wholly inappropriate melodrama’.
This is a fair criticism, simply because everything seen so far of the play is either too close to the truth or far too far from it. The sinking of SIEV-X is obviously omnipresent, and the play is undebatably linked to the political antics from both the Left and Right. On the flip side, the characterisation of Egg’s confuses what would be a very literal interpretation of real events; if everything is so close to the truth then why, as Croggon puts it, ‘confuse the issue’ with the character of Eggs?
Croggon appears unconcerned with the political arguments themselves; she distances themselves from them and rather determines the strengths of the play in delivering these messages in their own right. She shows how the plot and characters are less than feasible whilst evaluating how the messages that Rayson tries to bring forth with these characters compares with those messages of Arthur Miller’s The Crucible. She explains the techniques that Miller used to make his point, involving the use of going back in history to draw parallels to modern society. She similarly analyses a ‘current model of theatrical protest’; the tribunal theatre. In doing so, she exposes Rayson’s work to be some chalked up fiction, deeming it weightless compared to other techniques that have been used to illustrate points concerning recent events.
Croggon has proven wise in distancing herself from the political drama unfolding with the issue, and instead of analysing the political message of the play (which many other short sighted reviewers have solely taken from Rayson’s work), she analyses its delivery. All of her criticisms are on just terms, and her review exposes some aspects of Rayson’s play which would do well with being tightened.
3.
Two Brothers; Critiquing the critique
Tom Hyland
The Age
In a controversial issue revolving around the treatment of asylum seekers by the Australian Government, Tom Hyland has presented a critique of Hannie Rayson’s “political thriller” Two Brothers. Hyland’s review deals specifically with the political message that Rayson has raised in her play; the welfare of asylum seekers. Two Brothers is - without a doubt - distinctly political; the two brothers are Tom and ‘Eggs’ Benedict, the bleeding heart lawyer/human rights activist and the greedy, power driven prime-minister to be. The politics here is obvious; there’s the Left and Right on the opposite sides of the political divide and their respective characters have been based off the Costello brothers.
Hyland accuses Rayson of creating a play that acts as a ‘conspiracy theory’, for it contains elements that are far from the truth. He opens his article by trying to show how the play ‘deals in stereotypes’, ‘preaches to the converted’, and ‘panders to prejudice’. This is fair enough, because it’s true, Two Brothers does all that. However, its worth as a means of criticism is questionable for most plays need to be simple in order for the audience to grasp the underlying meanings; hence Rayson (like virtually every other playwright out there) has employed the use of stereotypes. As well as this, plays commonly preach to the converted; I wouldn’t watch a play which is topical on an issue which I do not follow.
In his assessment of the play, he does profess that it is a ‘compelling, provocative, entertaining and dramatic thriller’. However, Hyland quickly establishes that it can’t be assessed as a piece of fiction despite the marginal fabrication of the plot and characters because it ‘purports to more than [fiction]’. He extrapolates by rambunctiously generalising the audience, saying they are left in ‘no doubt of the plays polemic purpose’. Despite the huge generalisation, he is generally correct; the play (whether Rayson intended it or not) is very political and should not be analysed as fiction. Nobody can make crude jokes about sensitive issues and then claim it to be the work of fiction when they get a markedly rash response. Likewise, Rayson shouldn’t claim her work to be fiction when the links to SIEV-X and real events are omnipresent in her text.
Following his establishment that Two Brothers is poor stab at what Rayson deemed “purely fictional”, Hyland undermines Rayson’s self-advocated attempt to debunk the myths surrounding the political divide. He does this by accentuating that Rayson has done nothing but confuse the issue, and that her two main characters have just reinforced old prejudices. Tom represents the stereotypical Left and is defending Hazem, the asylum seeker, whilst Eggs is shown to be ‘a wine-swilling, adulterous, grammar-educated, bigoted bully’.
He continues his piece by linking his two points; Two Brother’s is poor fiction and the attribution of the play as a ‘conspiracy theory’. He shows she has been selective in choosing her truths upon which she based her fiction. He claims that Rayson has ignored the ‘inconvenience’ of the public record; that sailors present as SIEV-X dived into the water to rescue asylum seekers. He debunks the ending of Two Brothers in citing the apology that the government made with the Children Overboard propaganda. However, he is also selective and takes this criticism out of context as he addresses the Tampa crisis, using it as grounds for critiquing Rayson’s send-up of an entirely different issue.
Hyland includes a distinct paragraph in which he distances himself from the typical criticisms that have been received poorly, such as those of Andrew Bolt’s ‘Hannie’s Evil Brew’. He does this by identifying himself as being distinctly Left, for he shows he is compassionate about the issue himself. He seeks to show this by devoting a paragraph to an extended emotive appeal, reciting events in which asylum seekers have been grossly abused, using appeals such as ‘frightened, desperate, traumatised people’ to refer to the asylum seekers. This argument is intelligent for it serves it’s purpose well, giving his opinion more weight for he is critiquing a response on his same side, which suggests that it really is bad.
Post by: tloves on November 09, 2011, 06:45:36 pm
To what extent does Wright’s film adaptation retain the essence of McEwan’s novel Atonement in The Fountain Scene?
There are several differences and limitations of adapting a text to a different medium specific not only to the text but the nature of the mediums involved in the adaptation. In the case of Ian McEwan’s 2001 novel Atonement’s film adaptation by Joe Wright, Wright chooses not to omit but rather transform the elements in McEwan’s text not transferable to film so the underpinning essence of the novel is retained. As a result his adaptation is as faithful to the novel as cinematic conventions allow.
For example, In McEwan’s novel, Briony Tallis is the protagonist. In the film it would have been an easy mistake for Wright to miss the empathy that is necessary for the audience to feel towards Briony’s character, having the film fit the conventions of a ‘Hollywood Romance’ focused solely on Robbie and Cecilia’s relationship rather than the impact Briony and her actions have had on that relationship. In Wright’s adaptation Briony is the only character to look directly into the lense of the film, connecting with the audience. This happens several times throughout the film, most notably at the beginning and end of the epochal Fountain Scene.
Additionally, Wright had the issue of characters’ imaginations to deal with when adapting Atonement. McEwan’s novel is ultimately an interior novel with lengthy inner monologues and explorations of the internal human condition, where the power of the imagination is a key theme as is evident in Briony’s false accusation and attempts at atonement. The film medium does not allow the audience to be privy to internal thoughts, and the audience observes only what the characters say and do. When McEwan wrote the Fountain Scene from Briony’s point of view the reader is told all the false conclusions Briony is coming to, (eg ‘a proposal of marriage’) and having previously read Cecilia’s description of events, we can see not only how Briony is wrong but, importantly, also how easy it was for her to be wrong. In Wright’s adaptation of the Fountain scene he made the decision to reverse the order of the two Fountain Scenes, having Briony’s point of view shown before Cecilia and Robbie’s. Wright is positioning the audience to view the muted, fragmented, confusing and unfamiliar scene alongside Briony, experiencing the same cluelessness as her. Only afterwards are we presented with the explanation, through Cecilia and Robbie’s point of view. It is through this decision that Wright replaces the novel’s description of ‘how easy it was to get something wrong, completely wrong’.
Wright symbolizes Briony’s imagination (the ultimate creator) throughout her point of view of the Fountain Scene. Briony’s attention is drawn to the window by a bee. The noise of the bee is buzzing annoyingly, the sound reverberating and incessant, just like the imagination does in the mind. A close up reveals the bee also has a sting on its tail, giving it a slightly menacing disposition – a homage to the capabilities of Briony’s imagination. The bee (Briony’s imagination) watches the fountain scene alongside her through the window. At its conclusion, Briony liberates the bee and is shown striding through a rose-covered pergola, a motif associated throughout with Briony going off into the depths of her imagination. The bee and its sting has alerted the audience to the dangers of Briony’s imagination, and the music that accompanies Briony as she ‘goes off into the depths of her imagination’ through the pergola is ominous. While the audience cannot read the confused conclusions Briony has jumped to (as is available in McEwan’s novel), the visual cues Wright has employed gives the audience awareness and allows them to speculate.
While in McEwan’s novel the audience is given three first-person perspectives of the Fountain Scene, In his film interpretation Wright only offers two. He merges Cecilia and Robbie’s Fountain Scene. It would be pointless for Wright to show Cecilia and Robbie’s perspectives of the Fountain Scene separately as visually their experiences are the same. It is only in their consciousness and emotions that their experiences of the same events differ; these differences can be illustrated in the film by shot selection and body language. In the novel Cecilia’s prose is excessive and trifling, imitating the languid and claustrophobic summer day atmosphere McEwan is attempting to capture. Joe Wright is able to focus on the action of the scene rather than dwelling on the aesthetics (for example, costume) as these are readily available to the audience visually, they do not need to work to picture them in their mind’s eye as a novel’s reader does. Cecilia’s restlessness is shown by a medium shot of her running through the forest, enjoying the ‘sheer exhilaration of movement’, likewise Cecilia’s concern for how Robbie sees her is demonstrated when she looks concernedly into a mirror before going to speak with him. Wright utilizes the availability of body language to communicate to the audience the tension, restraint and attraction that is amounting between Robbie and Cecilia which, in his novel, McEwan described at great detail from the first-person point of view of the pair. Their synchronous movement demonstrates the familiarity between Robbie and Cecilia as they walk through the grounds; first when, as if choreographed, they pass and light cigarettes, and then when Robbie playfully circles Cecilia as they walk. The abrupt delivery of dialogue between the characters adds to the tense atmosphere of the scene, an atmosphere that is broken at the same time as the vase is. The delivery of dialogue slows to a stop. When Cecilia breaks the surface of the water upon retrieving the broken vase, so too broken is the façade the two have been painstakingly holding. In his novel, McEwan has Cecilia and Robbie describe this moment as the moment they finally acknowledged their mutual sexual attraction. In the film, Wright illustrates this epiphanous moment with close-ups of Robbie and Cecilia’s expressions accompanied by uncomfortable silence.
Wright’s film adaptation is successful in its effort to translate McEwan’s novel to a film medium whilst preserving the film’s underlying themes, characterization and imagery. The claustrophobic, restrained and artificial atmosphere of the Tallis household is transferred onto the screen with kitsch sets and vivid, ‘ripe to the edge of rotten’ colours. The re-exploration of events so crucial to McEwan’s contention is retained, with scenes ‘replayed’ as they are cut alternatively from separate viewpoints as in the Fountain Scene. Whilst the form and structure of the Fountain Scene may be altered, it is filmically compensated and consequently its essence retained.
1096 words
Post by: Lolly on July 09, 2012, 06:23:13 pm
Shakespeare's "Hamlet" and Branagh's filmic adaptation portray the subversion inherent within the Court of Denmark and the implications of inverting social and political power. The cinematic adaptation elaborates on the original text, emphasising the full extent of Hamlet's deliberate abasement of authority. Through filmic devices and techniques, Branagh presents the audience with a distinct interpretation of Hamlet's domineering behaviour. This is in contrast to the play, where Hamlet is portrayed as far more subtle in his machinations.
Within both film and play, Hamlet is revealed to be acrimonious in his interactions with other characters. However, while the vitriol of his savage diatribe upon Ophelia is well observed within the play, the film magnifies the intensity of his harangue. Branagh seizes upon the alliteration of "Any show you'll show him" to sound incomprehensible, reinforcing Hamlet's words as intrinsically pejorative. Moreover, Hamlet's demeanour is depicted as imposing - his physical advancements toward Ophelia are abrupt and accentuate the mordancy of his verbal attack with threatening body language. The hurried pace of their exchanges, together with frequent cross cutting enhance the tension of their interaction, punctuated with Ophelia's repetition of "my Lord". The Director's use of eyeline matching proceeding the line "as woman's love" follows with a medium shot of Gertrude, implicitly blaming her for her "incestuous" marriage to Claudius. The film portrays Hamlet's blatant acridity, presenting a clear judgement of his thoughts and assumptions.
Claudius' call for "lights" is representational of Hamet's conquest of circumstances. In the cinematic adaptation, the stage is well lit, implying Claudius' plea as metaphorical and evidence of Hamlet's success in abasing authoriry. Within the script, Claudius's agitation in the cry of away!" is observed with an exclamation mark. Conversely, the film portrays Claudius' exit as dignified and defiant. His silence denotes cool animosity, contrasting with Hamlet's clamorous expostulations. Claudius' reaction is more closely examined within the film, with closeups of his face crosscutting to the act of murder. Thus, the audience is presented with an overt interpretation of Claudius' thought process, in contrast to the play where this may only be suggested. Upon appearance of Lucianus, Branagh utilises brief alternating shots, coupled with the sound of dissonant brass, in a culmination of dramatic tension. Hamlet reinforces his subversion by mirroring this player's movements, a clarification of his intentional threat as "nephew to the king".Hamlet's dominance and Claudius' situational weakness is portrayed in Branagh's interpretation of Shakespeare's definitive text.
The cinematic portrayal employs aspects of mise en scene in order to communicate characters and implicit messages. The change of setting from "The Great Hall of Elsinore Castle" to an actual theatre reinforces the impression that "The Mousetrap" is emblematic of the outward narrative. The dumb show portrays symmetrical, rehearsed and exaggerated conventions of stagecraft which directly contrast the naturalistic surroundings of the film set. Branagh clearly establishes this separation between the world of Denmark and the playlet in order to impart the parallel between this artificial projection and the audience's external reactions. Furthermore, this symmetry and parallelism suffuses itself in the very construction of the set; the Courtiers sit in alternation columns of red and white and wide shots reveal that the theatre is inherently symmetrical. The warm lighting and predominate red tones create an intimate setting, magnifying the interactions of characters to a greater intensity. Moreover, Hamlet, dressed in black, appears in stark contrast to this impression of orderly society. His attire extends on the imagery of Shakespeare's urtext "let the devil wear black" and motifs of death evident within the dialogue - "the croaking raven" - complement the background of a strategically placed "grim reaper" prop,enhancing the threat of both Lucianus and Hamlet. The arrangement of the film's setting makes manifest the meaning and imagery of Shakespeare's written language.
The intertextuality of both film and play project Hamlet's misuse of mimetic art as a means of subverting authority. The relevance of mimicry is emphasised within the filmic medium, since the film itself is an adaptation - an imitation -so to speak, of Shakespeare's urtext. Likewise, the playlet is symbolic of external plot and characters, with key phrases from the performance interposed with crosscuts to specific characters; the Player Queen's expostulation "though I distrust" is immediately associated with Gertrude in a subsequent medium shot of her uncertain, wavering expression. This clearly exposes "The Mousetrap" as analogous to the main narrative. Indeed, the Director is emphatic in interpreting the parallels between the Players and the Courtiers, dispeling the uncertainty of the play's connontations. With these parallels firmly established, Branagh is able to present Hamlet's unambiguous intent - that the sole purpose of "The Mousetrap" is to incriminate Claudius and implicate Gertrude. The film conveys the playlet purely as polemic, whereas the text is not as explicit in these demands; Branagh depicts King Hamlet's murder, yet the script may only suggest Claudius' memory of the deed. Hamlet is characterised by his intractable behaviour, intoned in the vociferous protest of " Is this a prologue or the posy of a ring?" In demeaning his own play, Hamlet reinforces the notion that the dramatic medium is a mere vessel of controversy, within which lies an "argument". The film portrays Hamlet's manipulation of an art form and characterises this intent with his sarcastic and mocking behaviour.
Shakespeare's "Hamlet", as interpreted in Branagh's filmic rendition, emphasises Hamlet's overt purpose of challenging authority within the Court of Denmark. Through drawing direct analogies between the theatre audience and "The Mousetrap" play, the Director effectively eliminates the ambiguity of the urtext in its adaptation to the cinematic medium.
Post by: VivaTequila on July 09, 2012, 10:31:54 pm
Post by: Hutchoo on July 15, 2012, 06:28:32 pm
I'll post some close analysis stuff when it goes to that time of year. All my work was written rather than typed.
That 'time of the year' is now ;p. Post up some stuff please!
Post by: Hutchoo on July 15, 2012, 06:41:45 pm
Thanks for it though, I'll read it.
Post by: Hutchoo on July 15, 2012, 06:50:22 pm
xP. "Only"? Uhm, pretty sure EZ wrote ~1.1 - 1.2k words MAX per essay in the exam. Your practice pieces go up to 1.7k words, which is ... a fak load. 28 words per minute, remarkable.Holy gawsh. 1.5K WORDS.. HOW THE HELL CAN SOMEONE WRITE SO MUCH IN THE EXAM!These are practice essays which I typed rather than hand wrote, so they're a bit longer than normal. I only wrote about 1250-1400 words per essay in the exam.
Thanks for it though, I'll read it.
How many hours did you spend writing these?
Post by: Lolly on July 15, 2012, 09:53:19 pm
Quote
I write a lot though, even for people who write a lot. My language analysis SAC for English was roughly 2000 words in about 100 minutes.
Wow, fair effort Charmanderp :) I'm really slow; the prospect of writing two essays in two hours still terrifies me. But I know I'll get there eventually. I have to and I will. I can usually put together about 900-1000 words but I'm trying to write more.
Thanks for these essays, I shall mull them over in the next few days and perhaps post a few more of my own :)
Post by: charmanderp on July 15, 2012, 10:37:13 pm
Post by: Hutchoo on July 15, 2012, 10:41:43 pm
You'll find that in the exam itself you might have an adrenaline rush which will allow you to write a lot faster! Certainly happened to me.I've talked to a few high achievers and they all said the exact same thing!
Post by: jeanweasley on January 27, 2013, 07:40:27 pm
In the Park by Gwen Harwood
Originally published as a man, Harwood provokes debate against the inaccurate portrayal of women and motherhood. Hardwood exemplifies the hardships that mothers experience to achieve the best for their children in order to attack preconceived notions against a fulfilling and rewarding motherhood totally free of difficulties. She challenges this view as well as society’s expectation of women to become mothers and to be fulfilled by having children. Harwood also questions changes that occur and whether societal expectations are indeed going to change over time. The only man in the poem, the mother’s former lover models society as it judges someone he has formed a bond with and harshly rejects her to protect his own image. Just like society, the man severs ties with his former flame and continues to live his bachelor life, which represents society’s cruel and unsympathetic ways to the oppressed and vulnerable. Harwood intends for us to understand the reality of motherhood as it is difficult and stressful. Although she herself was a mother, she does not intend to oppose motherhood but to argue that through the accurate portrayal of motherhood and women, society can understand the vital part that women play in society, as well as for women to view that a rewarding motherhood can only be elicited through passing the difficulties that comes with it.
The male narrative voice enables us to see women and motherhood through a stoic observation as the narrator neither condemns the man’s actions nor present a sympathetic account of the woman’s. Instead, the narrator is withdrawn from any emotion and describes events plainly, “she sits in the park [with] clothes out of date” and “tug her skirt”. Through this, we can understand that motherhood, though difficult did not earn the sympathy of many and while known was not acknowledged, which juxtaposes the stereotype of motherhood being a fulfilling and rewarding experience full of bliss and angelic children. Harwood uses the park as a setting to establish a dichotomy between a usual place of happiness and innocence and what mixed emotions the mother is experiencing while in the park. Through her three children, the mother is worn out by taking care of them as the children are engulfing all her energy because of their constant bantering, “Two children whine and bicker.” The line “Her clothes are out of date” enables us to see a true form of motherhood as she no longer has time for herself and enough money because she is supporting her three children. This description by the narrator is superficial and focuses on external features, without emotionally portraying why the mother is in such a deplorable state. Through this, Harwood expresses her dissatisfaction with the portrayal of women in society, especially men who view women without regard and judge them without really understanding the sacrifices that they have made in order to become mothers. This echoes the hardships that they have had to face in order to fulfil the role that society wants them to fill.
In contrast, the man is living a bachelor life that obviously has time and money that he can spend unlike the mother. His “neat head” shows that he is well looked after and has the resources to do so, unlike the mother whose only focus is of taking care of her children. Harwood demonstrates the gender inequality as men are allowed to be bachelors whilst women are denigrated to become mothers in hope of having a fulfilling experience. However, in reality, neither of these expectations really meets with what society expects. This is because the mother is ruined by her own children because she has no one to share the responsibility with and is by herself with her three children. It can be assumed that because there is no other male figure that the mother’s husband does not share domestic duties with his wife. Due to this, we can say that motherhood is not understood because it is thought of to be an easy thing to do to raise children, however, in reality; it involves effort and great responsibility. Unlike the mother, the bachelor is able to enjoy himself because he has nothing to worry about. He is still single and without children or any responsibility. Harwood argues that through society, some women are ruined in order to fulfil the expectations of motherhood, while others belittle this responsibility because they think it is an easy job to do, while it is actually the opposite.
Moreover, mothers, though they love their children are conflicted because they understand that motherhood is overwhelming and puts pressure on them to take care of their children to the best of their abilities. Mothers cannot help but question motherhood’s hardships because in the process, they have lost their sense of identity. The man’s comment, “Time holds great surprises” reveals that the mother was not always as frazzled. Mothers also cannot turn back time because it is already “too late” for them to undo what they have done and as mothers, it is their responsibility to look after their children. However, they still long to recover themselves because through caring for their children, they have lost their identity, or how to take care of themselves or have any friends of their own to talk to. This is obviously evident when the mother talks to the wind as a substitute for a friend as she “star[es” at her feet”, an action of regret, and confesses that her children have “eaten [her] alive”. This awkward resolution suggests that although mothers are delighted by children, it is too challenging because of the sacrifices that you have to make, especially when you are the only one taking care of your child. Harwood shows that through the hardships of motherhood, it is quite easy to lose one’s identity and to regret the path that they have taken; however, she reiterates that there will always be love between mother and child which cannot be taken away. The maternal action of “nursing the youngest child” affirms this because the mother is forced to see her position in society and to embrace it.
The man models society as he is too judgemental and distances himself from having real connections with people and or genuine understanding of sufferings that people endure. The “casual nod” that he gives suggests that the man has been living a relaxed and happy life compared to the woman. His dialogue, “Time holds great surprises” can be seen as a personal insult towards the woman as she is in a state of desperation compared to what she was before. It is also ironic because the surprise that time gives is negative, which shows that through time, things evolve and do change. However, Harwood questions the reality of it as the man, having seen his former lover’s hardships does not offer to help her and instead judges her “unquestionably”, without thinking of the implications of his thought. The “small balloon” is a comical addition which serves as his superficial feature because he is unable to tell the woman that he is uncomfortable but instead suppresses this emotion. He also remains “a while” with the woman without doing anything, which parallels what he might do in the future because he is superficial and an egoist. Like society, he perceives people without truly knowing who they are and even though they have had a previous relationship, he is unable to understand her and without question, judges her role already. Harwood uses this to describe attitude towards women because society is judgemental in how women fulfil the tasks of motherhood. As the woman is suffering, society rebukes her and ignores her cry for help and instead leaves with a “departing smile” without saying farewell. Because of this, the woman is heaved into desperation and with anyone to help her as society is the critical of those who do not perfect the stereotype of a fulfilling motherhood. Harwood therefore criticises society as they reject the hardships of motherhood as well as suffering mothers. She intends that motherhood is rewarding but there are many sacrifices and difficulties that must be overcome.
“In the Park” questions the typical portrayal of motherhood as Harwood argues that it is challenging. Harwood argues that only after the challenge has been overcome can motherhood be rewarding. Harwood also depicts society as a heartless organisation that rejects the hardships of motherhood as it does not agree with their stereotype. She also argues that some people may never find value in their life because they are superficial and devalue others just because they are in higher position than them. She intends for people to leave equally and to give motherhood the recognition that it deserves because it isn’t an easy task to undertake as it requires responsibility and full effort, which children consume. However, she argues that motherhood will only be rewarding if all challenges have been achieved.
Post by: mskux19 on May 29, 2013, 03:48:25 pm
God I miss writing. Love reading these essays.
Post by: Wu on July 01, 2013, 11:23:31 pm
Original review here. I will contribute more to this thread later on throughout the year.
Jim Schembri’s film review (TheAge.com.au, April 13, 2009) of Adam Elliot’s 2009 animated film, Mary and Max, is limited in its analysis as he tries to balance between asserting a complex reading of the narrative and not spoiling the movie for his audience. Withholding his full interpretation, Schembri’s reading of the narrative is shallow and contends that Mary and Max is an encouraging film despite the “weighty themes prevalent” – a valid viewpoint as Elliot concludes his film in a hopeful manner. The review does not acknowledge the complexities of the narrative, as evident with the omission of the issue of mental health – instead, Schembri focuses on promoting the film’s entertainment value rather than its commentary on society.
Schembri contradicts himself; he perceives Mary and Max as an “adult film”, referring to Mary’s appearance as similar to a “Peanuts character” – a cartoon series – but does not adhere to conventions of animation yet he alludes to the film’s key scene as being a “Disney moment”. The said scene shares no resemblance with optimistic, morally uplifting endings which Disney cartoons are known for; protagonists Mary and Max finally meet, only for Mary to discover that Max had already died peacefully that morning. The bittersweet ending of the film subverts the view that animations and cartoons always conclude with happy endings for all the sympathetic characters. Schembri addresses the stigma attached to the genre of animation – that they are family friendly and cheerful – as Mary and Max shares the same medium as cartoons. Elliot constructs his film in an intricate manner; common tropes, assumptions and expectations of the genre are avoided in order to elicit empathy in the audience. Instead of using high key lighting and bright tones, Elliot opts for a greyscale, black and white New York to portray Max’s environment as one of neglect and a bleak, brown sepia tone for the setting of Australia to represent the stagnation of suburbia in Melbourne where Mary lives. The use of these dreary colours explicates the dissonance between Mary and Max with their environment which is potent to Elliot’s exploration of the theme of the outsider and isolation. Even the formulaic idea of death within cartoons is portrayed in an unconventional manner; Elliot does not comply with the conventionalities of slapstick comedy – that characters are immortal. Max’s air conditioner, representative of fate, falls from his apartment and drops on top of a mime artist, killing him instantly. The absence of sound within the scene reflects the solemnity of death which deviates from the unrealistic expectations that audiences have of immortality in cartoons to their exposure to animations with these stereotypes.
The narrative is indeed engaging and “immerses us”, the audience, as Schembri remarks. Empathy is felt for the characters, especially due to the film’s contracting of time so that the twenty years of communication and growth between the protagonists are experienced by the audience within the duration of ninety minutes. Realistically portrayed, these “blob(s) of plasticine” have the potential to induce a “misty-eyed”, “weak-kneed” audience that connects emotionally with Elliot’s characters.
Schembri purports that Elliot’s film is positive for all the “uphill struggle” the characters endure. He demonstrates a thorough understanding of the film as one with a “sense of celebration”. Fluctuating between black humour and “darker emotions”, the symbolism of Mary’s baby in the final act of the narrative ultimately expresses life and living. The piano soundtrack which plays before key scenes where Mary matures becomes a reoccurring motif within the film, representative of optimism and joy which the audience is positioned to feel.
Although the reviewer identifies and lists the pertinent themes within the film such as “loneliness, child neglect, cruelty […]”, he does not elaborate or provide further discussion about these ideas. Schembri lacks astuteness within his examination as he omits the crucial topic of Aspergers Syndrome which is a necessary plot point in propelling the progression of the narrative forward. The review is describing the narrative rather than analysing its complexities in order to conceal any spoilers which could ruin the film’s contents. Summarising the plot, Schembri simply details that Mary and Max “maintains a correspondence over many years” through exchanging letters without observations on the text’s epistolary style and the empathy induced through this way of presenting the characters and their interactions.
While acknowledging Mary and Max’s complex exploration into themes unsuitable for “very young or sensitive children”, Schembri’s review is deficient meaningful assessments of the text. He identifies and advocates an affirmative reading of the film, that it “refuses to surrender to despondency or bitterness”, but refrains from giving further observations. The comparison of Mary and Max to Disney, renowned for their animations with happy endings, demonstrates Schembri’s ignorancy to Elliot’s explicit subversions of the medium of - dealing with suicide, bullying, death and friendship, the film is far from a Disney cliché.
810 words.
Edit: Removed strikeout. I think you put a square bracket around an "s" in one of your quotes. :P
Post by: Lolly on August 14, 2013, 10:32:18 pm
Passage one portrays the impression of a universal consciousness within Mrs Dalloway, with the description of “sobriety and stillness…upon …utter disorder” imparting the unity of society and its ability to mould human expression. This is further framed in Peter’s admiration in Passage Two of "the efficiency, the organisation, the communal spirit of London”, conveying to the audience a colossal image of interconnected humanity. Here, civilisation is seen by Woolf as a vast entity, with the monstrous power to bend the individual to expectations of social decorum. Indeed, this conformity is further emphasised within Passage Three, with Professor Brierly’s “ value of moderation” epitomising Woolf’s critique of upper class refinement. Thus, Woolf conveys the repression of the most organic state of humanity in its acquiescence to the rigid requirements of a British post war society.
Furthermore, Woolf explores her critique of British austerity within Passage Three, with the portrayal of Professor Brierly’s “wintry charm without cordiality” conveying the distance created through a fabric of social artifice. With the parenthesis “( unable…to compass both tie and waistcoat)” coupled with the diminuitive adjective “ little Jim Hutton”, Woolf implicitly condemns the prejudice of the upper class, revealing the ability for superficial impressions to obscure the integrity of the human character. This disparity is further revealed with the ironic comment “degrees, honours lectureships between him and the scribblers” inferring Woolf’s critique of a superiority that is defined by social standing and distinction. Thus Woolf condemns the upper class, operating under qualifications and social monikers, while the depth of true humanity is hidden beneath a complex of superiority and deceit.
Similarly, Passage one portrays humanity’s fragile state submerged under an unyielding social structure. Through the hallucinations of Septimus “the world wavered and quivered and was about to burst into flames” the audiences observes a man on the verge of inward collapse and, moreover, the instability of the class system in the process of decay. With the figurative language “the world has raised its whip; where will it descend?” the audience understands the oppressiveness of a society lacking in empathy; indeed, Septimus’ “terror” at beholding conformity, “the gradual drawing together of everything to one centre”, presents him as an isolate and a subordinated victim of society. Woolf places him against the backdrop of her narrative tableau, “old ladies on the tops of omnibuses” and the colour and activity of “ here a green, here a red parasol”, while in contrast sketching his caricature plainly, “wearing brown shoes and a shabby overcoat”, reinforcing his relative insignificance in the midst of a vast, indifferent world. Thus, Woolf imparts to the audience the perpetual struggle against the conformity demanded by a social system, portraying the tragedy of the despairing human condition.
Woolf critiques the double standards of society in Passage Two, with Peter’s stream of consciousness lauding “the triumphs of civilisation”. Here Woolf reveals how human suffering is taken care of “humanely”, ironically contrasting the inhumanity presented to the audience in both passages one and three. Peter’s aversion to “morbid” thoughts and his appraisal “fatal to art, fatal to friendship” imparts the artifice inherent in endorsing society’s “efficiency” and the idealism of ignoring the darker side of the class system. The audience can appreciate the subtle irony laced in Peter’s thoughts, juxtaposed against passage one’s depiction of Septimus’ delusion in Passage one “ It is I who am blocking the way”. Hence, Woolf’s scathing judgement is made known, as she portrays society as mechanical organism capable of manipulating human vulnerability.
In contrast to this cold and inhuman “efficiency”, Woolf portrays the flux of human emotions, rendering them incompatible with the austerity of English establishment. With the contrasting conjunctions “And yet”, Peter juxtaposes the interconnectedness of civilisation in Passage Two to “the privilege of loneliness”, his comment “ one might weep if no one saw” connoting the incapacity for the class system to comprehend the potency of true expression. Here Woolf portrays the realms of the soul as the essence of true humanity, the imagery of “the drip, drip of one impression after another” disclosing the significance of the inner world. The metaphor “down into that cellar where they stood” further encapsulates the “ beauty” of solitude’s inviolable secrecy, echoing Clarissa’s wonder at beholding “flowers of darkness”. Yet Woolf reveals the incompatibility of this emotional depth, with the repetition of Peter’s comment“ this susceptibility…has been his undoing in Anglo – Indian society” drawing pathos from the audience as they realise the ruminations of the soul can never be fully communicated to the world outside. This incongruence is further reflected by Passage one’s description of the motor engine’s “irregular pulse” and Peter’s inability to keep in step with the boy soldiers – these connotations reflecting how social expectations remain out of rhythm with the very quintessence of human feeling.
Hence Woolf ultimately conveys the insufficiency of society as a vehicle for human expression, subtly revealing how true identity exists above and beyond these limitations. Peter’s transcendence is marked with euphoria,“ It was as if he were sucked up to some very high roof by that rush of emotion “, ultimately revealing how the human psyche rises above conformity through the ethereal and interminable scope of human perception.
Post by: Wu on September 16, 2013, 08:21:55 pm
Passage analysis in April
The Bacchae - passage analysis (from 2011 exam) completed in June
The Chorus sings praise to living a life in moderation and remaining within one’s own limits; the lexemes “fill” and “fringe” have connotations with fulfilment without surplus which is indicative of a brimming human experience - neither excessive nor constrained. Euripides constructs his characters as displaying either extremity; Dionysus and his Bacchic rituals liberate the mind completely of the social conventions which civilisation has instilled whereas Pentheus is a figure of self-repressed lawfulness while also being ruthless in his militaristic leadership. Ultimately, the destruction of Thebes and its citizens “all in one ruin” is the result of the inability to find a balance between the spectrum which these two conflicting forces present.
Although Pentheus attempts to conform to the expectation that a king must conduct himself in an austere and controlled manner, he governs his palace in an overzealous manner to a point where his citizens “feared” him. His hamartia is his inner struggle to suppress his own selfish desires; Dionysus uses this weakness to humiliate him as punishment for impiety. Sexual curiosity notwithstanding his own self control, Pentheus submits to Dionysus. Instead of refusing to wear a dress, Pentheus’ tone is compromising and compliant when asking “what kind” he should don; here, Euripides characterises Pentheus as losing grip of his willpower. Emasculated from his usual highly autocratic and brutish temperament, the audience is positioned to ridicule Pentheus and condemn the redundant degree of energy he puts in when repressing his own wishes and his attempt at voyeurism . Pentheus’ bheaviour is also made more degrading as he is overstepping the boundary between genders – a value which he had contempt towards as evident when he scorned Dionysus’ appearance as an “effeminate stranger”, thus, criticising the imposition of limitations.
Dionysus, an omnipotent being, has the power to deliver retribution but the unreasonable intensity of the violence he unleashed is ultimately disapproved of. His pride was hurt as he was not recognised as a divinity by his people yet he showed no restraint or remorse in his pursuit of justice. Having Pentheus cross-dress in order to “spy on” the maenads, “It was Dionysus who inspired me with that thought,” dramatic irony is prevalent in the fact that it is Dionysus disguised as the Lydian Stranger who says so of himself. This allows the audience to damn the god and the sadistic pleasure he revels in as he further disgraces his enemy. Cadmus’ remark that “Dionysus has dealt justly but pursued justice / Too far” embodies Euripides’ opposition of excessiveness. “Dealt justly” implies that it is acknowledged the deity is permitted to punish blasphemous mortals while “pursued justice / Too far” indicates that the sparagmos of Pentheus, and in turn the annihilation of the entire hierarchal structure, is inappropriate for the violation committed. The god’s “delirious” worship is also superfluous in quality. The alliteration of “bright-berried bryony” and the overflowing fertile imagery of “burst into flower” sung by the Chorus mimics the mentality of maenads under the “maddening trance of Dionysus”. Though the frenzy which the Dionysian Rituals engage upon liberates the Theban women from “their spinning and their weaving” and oppressive roles in society, their ecstasis cause them to perform immoral acts such as kidnapping and murder. Their profligate behaviour is explicitly decried when they suggest the act of cannibalism which is considered as one of the three most heinous crimes by Athenians. Agaue evidently feels “guilty” and remorseful for murdering her son in her “possessed” state but still does not appear to holistically regret being irreverent, as evident when her immediate reply to Cadmus pointing out that her misdeed was because she “refused to call [Dionysus] god” is to immediately ask about Pentheus: “Father, where is the beloved body of my son?”
The “fennel-wands” alludes to the symbol of the thyrsus, a warning to handle the god’s staff with caution as the Chorus chimes, “There’s a brute wildness in the fennel-wands - / Reverence it well”. This suggests that mortals should understand their inferiority in relationship to the gods—that insolently dismissing divinity is not advised. Indeed, “blest is the happy man / Who knows the mysteries the gods ordain” sanctions a humble lifestyle for humans, the word “ordain” implies of the absolute authority which deities hold over mankind. The destruction of Pentheus’ hubristic attitude towards the gods is foreshadowed in the allusion to Actaeon who “was devoured by hounds”. Actaeon’s impudent boast that he was a better hunter than the Goddess of the hunt herself, Artemis, consequently results in his death. His excessive pride and fated downfall serves as a parallel to Pentheus’ destiny upon challenging the gods.
Prior to the exodus, the finality of Cadmus’ advice, “If any man derides the unseen world, let him / Ponder the death of Pentheus, and believe in gods” positions the reader to condemn the folly which Pentheus commits – the immoderation of impiousness. Dionysus’ existence is of a dual nature; male and female, god and mortal, Greek and foreigner, hunter and prey-- the coexistence of these antithetical traits establishes him as a transient and indefinable being that symbolises the expansiveness of life.
848 words.
Post by: Wu on September 16, 2013, 08:24:55 pm
Jane’s averring tone in passage three, “I adhere to my resolution,” makes conspicuous the assertion of individual identity which the protagonist attempts to forge through rejecting St John’s marriage proposal. Charlotte Bronte’s Victorian novel, Jane Eyre, advocates a balance between passion and reason as evident with Jane’s maturation from her “savage” outburst as a child removed from her humanitarian rights in passage one, to the Jane who is capable of governing her own emotions and sense of self in passage two and three against males, and symbolically the patriarchal system of Victorian Britain.
Within all three excerpts, the relationships Jane has between the two men that propose to her, Edward Rochester and St John Rivers, and also her Aunt. are exposed as unbalanced with the each character attempting to dominate her for their own selfish desires. Mrs Reed explicates the commonly held value during Bronte’s time that “children must be corrected for their faults”. She neglects Jane and lectures her for being too “passionate”. Passage one captures the first time that Jane’s insists on her individual rights – through rebelling against her oppressive aunt. Despite their difference in age, social hierarchy and wealth, the child’s tone is that of compelling assertiveness when declaring to her subjugator, “How dare I, Mrs Reed? How dare I? Because it is the truth.” The moral maturation of Jane is apparent when she adheres to rationality instead of her undying love for Rochester and she rejects him and his attempt at bigamy; the Romantic ideology of individualism is alluded to with Jane’s indomitable reply “I care for myself […] the more friendless […] the more I will respect myself,” conveying that Jane is unwilling to forfeit her self-reliance in exchange for the comfort received from a union with Rochester though familial support and belonging is her greatest . The imagery garnered from his vocabulary, to “bend”, “uptore”, “tear” and “rend the slight prison” alludes to Rochester’s threats to rape Jane. St John Rivers attempts to mentally manipulate Jane into becoming subservient and accompany him abroad as his wife through a loveless marriage. Recognising Jane’s emotional weakness, he tactically uses phrases such as “dishonour” and “breaking your promise” that have connotations with sin and violations to incite guilt in her, allowing for him to attain his own religious elevation once he makes use of her as his wife. By the end of passage three, St John breaks his usual stoic demeanour and has a “temporary spasm”, is “lividly pale”. Jane maintains her composure, controlling her zeal, while evoking and “whetting” St John’s “steely ire”; through expressing the two characters with traits opposing their natural dispositions – for Jane to be passionate and St John as detached -, the protagonists’ rationality is endorsed and her ability to control her own passions while upholding her morality is praised.
The construction of Jane Eyre incites sympathy from readers as they follow the principal character Jane throughout her life’s journey from her perspective as the first person narrator. Though institutional abuse occurred during the Victorian period, Bronte positions the readers to affirm Jane’s rebellion as a minor against conforming to her Aunt’s deliberate neglect and maltreatment. The novel is narrated by Jane ten years after her marriage with Rochester; as an adult, the detailed commentary of the abuse she experienced when imprisoned in the red room as a child reflects the psychological damage that she still sustains now as an adult. The elaborate language allows for the reader to also experience Jane’s “agony” and “distress” which therefore positions them to recognise justification in Jane’s intolerant act of revolt in passage one when she refers back to her physical and mental torture in the red room. Jane’s spiritual unrest has since developed into a more rational exertion of her emotions, as evident with the narrative’s chronological structure. After interacting with the enduring Helen Burns and refusing to mimic her friends’ absolute tolerance for injustice, Jane learns to express her morals if they were logically sound regardless of her interlocutor’s social class. Jane “interrupt(s)” St John and tells him to “keep to common sense”, daring to defy his role as a religious figure and as a man in a male-dominated society.
Glowing fire is a motif representative of zealousness with its antithesis being ice, the suppression of spirit; ultimately, the inner flame which Janes masters control over is victorious against the forces imposed by others. Mrs Reed and her “eye of ice” is used to instil fear into Jane, forcing the child to submit to compliancy. The might which Jane produces in her verbal retaliation is enough to subdue the oppressive stance of her Aunt; the imagery of Mrs Reed dropping her domestic chores from her knee, “rocking herself to and fro, and even twisting her face as if she would cry” illustrates her physical shock. Jane’s paroxysm of unrestrained emotions is therefore condemned as too excessive to suit her purpose of self expression. Resembling a looming “avalanche” with its connotations as a harsh, intense and cold element, it is associated with the austere St John who attempts to impose his religious dogma onto Jane. This motif symbolises repression, both self-imposed and subjected on others-- his stoicism is “killing” Jane. Rochester is likened to the young Jane in that he is referred to as a fiery, passionate man who makes decisions upon his emotions. While the protagonist controls her inner desires, her master Rochester does not moderate his mental state which in turn inflicts harm to himself and Jane, his “flaming glance” and “fierce face” enslaving Jane mentally, rendering her “powerless”. His forcefulness is repelling; indeed, reflecting Bronte’s contention that while spiritual expression is a necessity in ones’ life, it must be moderated at both extremes – passion and dispassion.
“There I plant my foot” provides finality in Jane’s musing – the assertive tone highlights the protagonists’ resolve in containing her fire, her passion, and to follow rationality’s calling to leave Rochester. Dissatisfied with her society’s expectations that women should be compelled to living a life of domesticity, Bronte’s protagonist does not conform to the passive role which she is given and instead vies for relationships with others who she considers as her equals.
1028 words
Post by: Wu on September 16, 2013, 08:31:01 pm
The imagery evoked from the “clear panes of glass, protecting, but not separating me from the drear
November day” is one of melancholy and peace in knowing that nature is not completely controlling of one’s own destiny; that our actions in respect to our situations is what matters. The duality of nature is depicted compellingly; while nature is portrayed in passage one as vigorous and destructive, it is also nurturing of individualism and belonging.
The bird motif is used throughout the Victorian novel as a representation of Jane’s attempt at balancing her individualistic needs and acceptance in her relationships. Subjugated by her aunt and cousins, Jane is introduced reading Bewick’s book, ‘History of British Birds’. Traditionally associated with freedom and liberty in literature, Jane yearns for individual pursuit and knowledge despite the restrictive constraints of the patriarchal system which discourages children from speaking up and for women to be outspoken. Through the use of simile in passage three, Bronte aligns Jane with a “bird with both wings broken” to suggest her struggle “in vain attempts” to seek out a relationship with Rochester. Although Jane wishes to be able to address her needs and wants, she also wants companionship. In passage two, Jane is overjoyed with her engagement with Rochester but her happiness is being held back by her need to assimilate with her community. Through the structuring the narrative perspective from Jane’s point of view, the “pang” which she felt if Mrs Fairfax were to even “temporarily misconstrue” the fact that Jane and Rochester were kissing explicates her insecurities with her relationship with Edward. The two assume a master and servant relationship of different social class and Jane is aware of that their unequal union is not accepted by society’s standards. While she cannot find approval in society, nature is illustrated as compelling and able to provide Jane the comfort of companionship which she desires. It is personified as a protective and endearing mother who “would lodge [her] without money and without price” which is indicative of the unconditional love which nature provides; a philosophy inspired from the Romantic Period. Jane clung to nature with “filial fondness” – these words with their connotations with family illicit a sense that nature can be a substitute mother and a figure of admiration to Jane, just as Bessie and Ms Temple were. The image conjured up from Jane remarking that she was nature’s “child” and “would be her guest” is reminiscent of the moon which turned into a woman when Jane revisited the red room in her dream just before she was about to marry Rochester. The moon goddess’ advise to “flee temptation” coupled with the “benign and good” weather which it bestows Jane during her night of poverty indicates the guidance which nature can provide. Despite the welcoming and encompassing qualities which nature displays, Jane ultimately chooses civilisation rather than isolation and heads into Morton to seek help.
“The weather changes” and with it is Bronte’s reminder of the fragility of humans exposed to fate. Nature indeed plays a part in dictating the lives of humans as it symbolises destiny; Jane’s initial encounter with her eventual husband Edward Rochester is poignant in that he, characterised as a Byronic Hero who appears high on his horse, is mocked when he slips on ice. Bronte positions the reader to laugh at Rochester’s brooding manner which he was introduced as by subverting reader’s expectations and having him fall over in a clumsy manner due to the weather conditions. The eventual fate of Jane and Rochester’s union is foreshadowed by the horse-chestnut tree; “half of it split away” after being struck by lightning. The personification in passage two of the tree which “writhed” and “groaned” while the “wind roared” evokes a startling imagery of struggle and strife through the verbs’ connotations with strain and discomfort which is antithetical to the joy which Jane feels after accepting Rochester’s proposal. Through constructing the novel so that the chapter ends with the tree severed, an ominous atmosphere is created which is suggestive that Jane should not marry Rochester yet as it means that she will compromise her own integrity and self respect. The tree ultimately grows with new sprouts developing from where the root was split which reflects the revival of the couple’s relationship and their marriage as equals. It is also fate or perhaps pure coincidence that Jane is bestowed a fortune inherited by her uncle after experiencing extreme poverty; regardless, it is Jane’s resilience and rejection of fatalism in a society which required passivity from women which is highly advocated.
Naturally, with fate comes the vulnerability of death. The terms relating to weather events such as “fields on ice”, “rigours of extreme cold” and “torpid sea” are reoccurring while Jane reads her book. Although Jane is a child, the poignancy of the images could not “pass unnoticed” which is suggestive of the recognisable destruction which nature can cause. Symbolising the indiscriminately wrathful qualities which nature can induce, the “broken boat stranded on a desolate coast” and the “wreck just sinking” are just some casualties demonstrating Bronte’s warning. The imagery of a “solitary churchyard” and its “inscribed headstone” is evidential of this preoccupation of death linking with nature. This passage resonates the harsh cold winters at Lowood which contributed to the deaths of many of the students – their lives prematurely ending due to the unpredictable nature of the weather.
The natural world has the potential to be as nurturing as it is ferocious. During the “unclouded night-sky”, Jane revels in her musings and is granted greater developments as to her own religious values. She had previously been exposed to and rejected other models of religion from figures such as Helen Burns and Brocklehurst, taking the aspects which she respected to create an own form which she believes in. Away from the restrictions of civilisation, Jane prays for Rochester while she rests amongst the countryside.
The contrariety between Jane’s desire to be acknowledged in society while also maintaining her independence is heightened in tension through nature’s potency to interfere with the fate of humans. While the weather at times reflected Jane’s mood, other times it would act as a real human would; it could be caring, a source of companionship, guiding and erratic. Nature is both the closest that mankind is to both death and life for it can be the cause of a “broken boat” as well as be interrelated to God.
1073 words.
Second last paragraph is not completed because it is not within my capacity to discuss religion as well I hoped to yet. Will attempt again at a later time.
Post by: DJA on November 18, 2013, 07:28:37 pm
Fitzgerald shows the necessity of performing; of concealing an individual’s true identity, to be an intrinsic part of the “senior society” of people like the Buchannans. As Tom’s possessions, both Daisy and Myrtle conceal their true emotions and personal identity, instead donning a veneer of overstated satisfaction and happiness which only barely covers their fundamental insecurity which was an unavoidable part of the changing social landscape of the 1920’s. However the loss of humanity and unnaturalness of this transformation is spurned by Fitzgerald’s language and the minute slivers of anxiety which break through this unrealistic façade, demonstrate the eventual failure of these constructions. Ultimately, Fitzgerald suggests that his characters’ acceptance of the restrictions which go hand in hand with Tom’s exclusive club is driven by their human need to feel secure and protected, as well the inevitable attraction of material possessions.
“Membership” to Tom’s “secret society” is characterised by an exaggerated performance which all characters must subscribe to; mirroring Tom’s own hyperbolic physical supremacy. The imagery which Fitzgerald uses to define Tom Buchanan focusses on the physical superiority which forms an integral part of his identity. Tom’s “shining arrogant eyes” and the “great pack of muscle” which makes up his shoulder gives the reader an impression of his dominance and all-encompassing pride in his accomplishments and possessions. Nick’s initial impression of Tom places him “standing with his legs apart on the front porch,” and “leaning aggressively forward.” This hyper-masculine image of dominance is one which seems slightly out of place in the shifting social landscape of the time; where women were beginning to gain a separate identity from their previously homebound role. It is as if Tom’s insecurity drives this performance; spurning a need to appear overtly masculine in a desperate attempt to make up for his inability to cope with the idea of female autonomy. As a result, Tom’s view of life is one which is highly traditional in nature; ruthlessly compartmentalising to the extent of reducing human beings such as his wife Daisy to the status of possessions. Thus, as Tom’s possession, Daisy too must conform to the expectations of performance and so dons a façade of superficial beauty and skin-deep happiness, evidenced in her belief that the “best thing a girl can be” is a “beautiful little fool.” The “paternal contempt” oozing from Tom’s voice demonstrates that the relationship he has with Daisy is characterised by a power imbalance which treats Daisy as inferior similar to the patronising way a parent would look upon a child. In this stifling atmosphere, there is no doubt that Daisy projection of shallow foolishness is utterly necessary in her union with Tom; intelligence and independence under Tom’s unrelenting control is an impossibility. In a similar fashion, the rise in status afforded by the relationship Myrtle has with Tom causes her entire “personality…to under[go] a change”. The changing of her “costume” and the donning of an “elaborate afternoon dress” is symbolic of the adoption of an exaggerated outer pretence which is a prerequisite for admittance into the affluent frivolity which Tom represents.
Fitzgerald’s disapproval of the unnaturalness of the performances put on by Tom, Daisy and Myrtle is revealed primarily through his descriptions which place their facades at odds with nature itself; as well as the occasional glimpses into the true angst of the individual behind the mask. Nick notes that Tom talks with “his eyes flashing about restlessly”, a description which emphasises Tom’s anxiety even within the comfort zone which his vast material wealth promises to offer. Additionally his irrational fear that the “white race will be…utterly submerged” if they don’t “look out” reveals his subscription to the pseudo-scientific racist propaganda of “The Rise of the Coloured Empires” as a method of dealing with his personal fears of a loss of white supremacy and a loss of pre-war traditional values. In order to fit into Tom’s bafflingly irrational world, both Daisy and Tom to some extent adopt Tom’s characteristics. Myrtle’s “vitality” is transformed into “hauteur”, this word bearing connotations of arrogance and superiority. The loss of vitality is a fact which Fitzgerald highlights; the personality in the garage is lost, destroyed by the fantastical show which she puts on when with Tom. The increasingly figurative language which Fitzgerald uses to convey her inebriated actions as she “expanded” and began “revolving on a noisy creaking pivot” puts her performance at odds with reality and nature. Rather than the energy and liveliness which is the source of her natural attraction, Myrtle is reduced to a pathetic figure; an obscene puppet which dances in the “smoky air” of Tom’s fantasies. Daisy too is a victim to Tom’s allure. Nick recognises with shock the way her eyes flash “around her in a defiant way, rather like Tom’s” and her “smirk” as she smugly asserts her “membership [to] a rather distinguished secret society which she and Tom belonged.” However, the confidence she gains from this union is one which is short-lived; her performance falls away when she is alone with Nick. Nick’s observation of the “turbulent emotions” which possess her give the reader a glimpse into Daisy’s true fragility; the “lovely shape” of her face is like a beautiful china vase; aesthetically pleasing, but easily damaged, whether it be by the news of Gatsby’ original return, or simply the years of enduring with the knowledge of Tom’s infidelity and lack of genuine love. While Daisy tries to hide it; the fact that “Tom was God knows where” when she bears her little girl hurts her deeply; it is a thought which constantly plagues her mind and which surfaces at the first moment that Nick and her are alone. Daisy and Myrtle’s acceptance that things are “terrible now” haunts the reader, forcing them to question why they would voluntarily choose to remain in a pseudo-relationship which will never satisfy them emotionally.
Ultimately, Daisy and Myrtle subscribe to Tom’s “society” out of their need to feel secure and safe in his wealth, estate and material possessions; regardless of Tom’s inability to provide true love and emotional intimacy. Myrtle’s life with Wilson is one which is characterised by uncertainty; Wilson relies on the good graces on Tom to secure a deal on a car which represents a good portion of his livelihood. Thus, for Myrtle, Tom represents a way out of her mundane existence; a hope which is intrinsically tied with the sense of optimism and potential of improvement even when starting from nothing which permeates the belief system of the decade. Additionally, Myrtle seems completely devoted to materialism. The pathetic image of her “trying to spread a copy of Town Tattle over the tapestry” together with her “dress of cream-coloured chiffon” demonstrates her reluctance to surrender the trappings of wealth which come with her new-found status, even though Tom’s affections are little more than lust. The colour “cream” is one which is traditionally associated with sophistication; the warmth of brown and the coolness of white blending with a sense of calm and tranquillity. This representation is deliberately upturned by Fitzgerald’s portrayal of the wild party which Myrtle, Tom and Nick engage in; their “violently affected movement” being symbolic of the violent emotions within the characters as they individually seek to deal with their personal insecurities. It is Daisy’s willing acquiescence to the dysfunctional union between Tom and herself despite the joyless nature of their marriage which truly reveals the undeniable appeal of material wealth. Like Tom, Daisy is insecure about her place in the world; her identity is one which is split into multiple slivers as evidenced by her “cynical” self, the overtly emotional one she presents to Nick, and the unthinking, foolish charming Daisy which she dons in Tom’s presence. The toll of this fragmented personality is evidenced in Fitzgerald’s oxymoronic description of her “sad” yet “lovely” face. In a distressed effort to make sense of her unstable world; Daisy reverts back to what is a more traditional outlook on life. She endures under Tom’s cruel dominance; his infidelity and lack of love, because at heart, she yearns for a sense stability and at that point in her life, it is Tom who can provide this to her. It is ironic that the apparent stability which Tom offers is as shallow as the performance she puts on, and that when Gatsby, her lost lover rises from the ashes of her past, her world is once again thrown into utter chaos.
Tom’s allure is the sense of stability he provides which is intrinsically tied with his grandiose wealth, and swaggering outer performance. However when we strip away this outer façade, we reveal an unstable and restless individual harbouring the same human fears which plague all characters. Despite characters such as Daisy, Myrtle and Tom’s desperate attempts to achieve a sense of security, they all ultimately fail to do so. For Myrtle and Daisy, Tom’s wealth is unable to stave off their hunger for material possessions or comfort and alleviate the violent emotions which lie just beneath the surface. For Tom, his esteemed status in life, wealth and order cannot provide him with the fulfilment he desires. Through the futile actions of his characters, Fitzgerald thus makes a statement of the inability of materialism to provide genuine meaning and satisfaction as compounded by the lack of genuine human connection which governs the majority of the relationships in the novel.
Post by: brightsky on February 25, 2014, 06:47:09 pm
Set A
From the outset of Passage One, Austen establishes Lady Russell as a woman of principle. The proliferation of the moral auxiliary “must” in Lady Russell’s speech unveils her detailed acquaintance with the moral standards of society. Unlike Sir Walter, who is, without doubt, completely oblivious to the demands of society upon the individual, Lady Russell apprehends that an aristocrat has certain obligations to fulfil, an insight which Austen has her deliver in the form of an aphorism (“the person who has contracted debts must pay them”). Anne exhibits a similar comprehension of the importance of operating strictly within the boundaries of comity in Passage Two, where she reflects upon the impropriety of Mary’s exhortation to inform Sir Walter and Elizabeth of the party’s chance encounter with Mr. Elliot. Unlike Mary, who exhibits a vexing propensity to repeat herself (“you will mention…do mention”), Anne and Lady Russell speak in a very orderly fashion, and the conclusions which they reach are often nuanced, as suggested by the sequence of conditionals at the beginning of Lady Russell’s speech in Passage One (“If we can persuade you father…If he will adopt these regulations”). The discrepancy between Mary’s style of discourse and that of Lady Russell reveals the connection which Austen attempts to establish throughout Persuasion between language and character: the manner in which characters manipulate language inevitably discloses certain aspects about their intrinsic being.
Austen juxtaposes the rationality of Lady Russell with Sir Walter’s child-like insistence upon the pleasures of the body at the end of Passage One in an effort to unveil the extent of the aristocracy’s degeneration. Austen alerts the reader to the unfortunate outcome of Lady Russell’s toils in a blunt but emphatic tricolon: “Lady Russell’s had no success at all – could not be put up with – were not to be borne.” The mortification of Sir Walter is made clear in the cornucopia of the exclamation marks, and the incomplete and fragmented nature of the sentences which those exclamation marks immediately succeed. Unlike Lady Russell and Anne, Sir Walter is unable to grasp the value of honesty; as elsewhere in the novel, he is more concerned with the “decencies” to which he thinks a man of his social standing is entitled, as suggested in the remarkable hyperbole “Every comfort of life knocked off!” Sir Walter considers his predicament “disgraceful” not because he is unable to pay his creditors, but because he can no longer live in the way of an aristocrat. Austen’s comedic dissection of Sir Walter is a testament to her awareness of the imminent downfall of the aristocracy, whose members have, to her consternation, shifted their focus from the intrinsic to extrinsic, from the substantial to the insubstantial.
On a deeper level, then, Austen seeks, in Passage One, as elsewhere, to illuminate the distinction between an aristocrat by nature and an aristocrat by convention. For centuries, the aristocracy, whose name literally means ‘rule of the best’ in Greek, based its claim to rule on martial virtue. The reader notes, however, a curious dearth of any Homeric qualities in the aristocrats who feature in the kaleidoscopic world of Persuasion; as indicated by Sir Walter’s refusal to relinquish the decencies of a noble in order to pay his debts, the aristocrats of Austen’s day have long abandoned their traditional role of military leadership and now think in terms of rights rather than obligations. In a sense, then, Austen offers an aristocratic critique of the aristocracy; she animadverts upon the aristocrats for failing to live up to their own aristocratic principles. As Austen makes clear in Passage One through her use of free indirect speech, Sir Walter adopts a way of life where ritualistic form is everything and the content nothing. His life amounts to nothing more than a dry artistic performance brutally cut off from the sources in nature that originally made the role meaningful. Captain Wentworth’s conduct in Passage Three indicates to the reader that what the aristocrats of old have left behind, the naval officers have picked up, and the reader is fully aware that, in fighting the Napoleonic wars on behalf of the aristocrats, the navy has well and truly replaced the aristocracy as the new, masculine bulwark of the body of the nation against intruders, and, as a result, have as much, if not more, of the claim on the title of aristocracy as the aristocrats themselves.
Austen contrasts the cold civility of Sir Walter and Elizabeth with the balmy cordiality of Anne’s companions in Passage Three in an effort to disclose the deleterious ramifications of the rigidity of upper class society. Austen constructs the scene in such a way as to make the presumptuous entrance of Sir Walter and Elizabeth appear as something of transition point. In a series of short declarative statements (“Their preparations…were cut short. Alarming sounds were heard; other visitors approached; the door was thrown open…”), Austen communicates the instantaneous effect of Sir Walter and Elizabeth on the livelihood and vivacity of the room; the pair have literally decreased the temperature of the room, and retarded, as a result, the average velocity of the spirits that were initially at play within it. Unlike the Musgroves and the naval officers, Sir Walter and Elizabeth have an unhealthy preoccupation with particular points of formality, as evidenced in the tricolon “cold composure, determined silence, or insipid talk”. While Austen recognises the importance of manners, she looks upon those in her novel who obsess over propriety without an understanding of the morality that lies behind with a critical eye; civility, Austen argues, results only in oppression and division when brought to an extreme. Rather, it is with the needle of compassion and gaiety that the fabric of society is stitched together.
In fact, throughout Persuasion as a whole, Austen is particularly sceptical as to the value of polite display. As Austen demonstrates at the opening of Passage Two, the mask of social artifice has a very real potential to deceive. The adverb “undoubtedly” in Anne’s description of William Elliot reveals the extent to which former has been misled by the latter’s general exhibition of “good sense”. The structural symmetry of the second paragraph, with “secret gratification” at the beginning in balance with “perfect secret” at the end, discloses to the reader the fact that Anne has internalised what very much belongs to the external world; Anne does not recognise the fact that Mr Elliot hides behind an shield, a façade of “polite excuses”, and simply, and naively, assumes that the self which people project onto the world gives a very strong indication of the self which the world projects onto them. As Austen reveals at a later point in the novel, however, in the case of Mr Elliot, a radical disjunction exists between the interior and exterior. Austen has the reader appreciate that by no stretch of the imagination does Mr Elliot deserve the adverb “cousinly” which Anne innocently bestows upon him. The bitter taste of conceit and deception, Austen suggests, cannot be glazed by the sugar of good manners.
Whilst Anne ultimately develops a natural aversion towards Mr Elliot on account of his lack of candour, Lady Russell remains, for most of the novel, in the dark, and requires Anne to lead her out through the veil of appearances into the sunlit realm of objective facts. But Austen does not allow the reader to forget all the damage that Lady Russell’s apparent discernment did unto Anne. The awkward exchange between Captain Wentworth and Anne in Passage Three, characterised as it is by short but short, stiff declarative statements, serves as a vehicle through Austen alerts the reader to the moral dangers associated with persuasion. The forked tongue of the persuader influences not only the mind but also the heart of the person towards whom all the rhetoric is directed, and, for this reason, persuasion is at once the art of seduction and the art of enlightenment. As Lady Russell is no doubt aware in Passage One, the person who assumes the role of moral advisor must invariably act under the pretence that the future is open for all to see; and therein lies the rub. As Wentworth’s exhausted exclamation “Eight years and a half is a period!” illuminates, the future is inherently unpredictable, wrought, to a significant extent, by forces greater than the individual. Lady Russell’s prior exertions to cleave the relationship between Anne and Wentworth resulted from nothing more than a flagrant distrust of Providence, and led ultimately to the illogicality at the opening of Passage Three, where “Captain Wentworth…walked to the fireplace…for the sake of walking away from it”. Austen thus indicates that while ‘to be persuaded’ might be a rational motion, ‘to persuade’ is morally ambiguous at best. And so rather than fall back on an external checklist or on an authoritarian moral advisor, individual must have the courage to make decisions on their own in the knowledge that some will end badly and some well. The burden of choice, with Anne as it is with Sir Walter in Passage One, is on the individual. To try to avoid “the uncertainty of all human events and calculations” is to try to avoid living itself.
Post by: brightsky on February 25, 2014, 06:48:11 pm
Set B
Austen’s biting satire in Passage One serves only to elucidate the humorous excesses and deficiencies of Sir Walter, whose puerile insistence upon rank and appearance, the reader notes, contributes a great deal to his comic stature. Austen underscores the absurdity of Sir Walter’s drastic and sudden change of opinion with the concise clause of “without hesitation”. Unlike Anne, who in Passage Two demonstrates fully her capacity to see through the veil of appearance, Sir Walter leads a subterranean life amongst the shadows; the only feature of Admiral Croft which he deems worthy of mention is purely physical, and entirely external, as indicated by Sir Walter’ insistence upon “the arranging of [the Admiral’s] hair”. The hyperbolic nature of the description which ensues (“best-looking soldier he had ever met”) alerts the reader to Sir Walter’s constitutional incapacity to discern the truth. Blinded by vanity and devoid of a clear moral compass, Sir Walter can only grope aimlessly around the tunnel of life, and so poses very little threat to the naval officers, who discern with lucidity that “the baronet [can] never set the Thames on fire”. Austen’s comedic dissection of Sir Walter is a testament to her awareness of the imminent downfall of the aristocracy, whose members have, to her consternation, shifted their focus from the intrinsic to the extrinsic, from the substantial to the insubstantial.
The fatuous remarks of Sir Walter contrasts starkly with the informed observations of Lady Russell, whose rationality and sagacity Austen makes at once explicit. Unlike Sir Walter, Lady Russell possesses the admirable propensity to substantiate her opinions with logical justification, a fact which Austen indicates through her use of free indirect speech. Anne’s internal monologue in Passage Two, punctuated by a plethora of semicolons, similarly strikes the reader for its coherence and orderliness, and the reader is left in no doubt that the words proceed from a well-regulated and disciplined mind. Austen deliberately juxtaposes Anne’s vehement appeal to what is “most right, most wise” with Mary’s egocentric exhortations. The adverbial refrain in the ascending tricolon of “often a little unwell, and always thinking… and always in the habit of claiming” establishes at once Mary’s petulance. The noun “reasoning” is ironic, for, as the reader appreciates, the declarative statement “I cannot possibly do without Anne” hardly constitutes a proper argument and in fact does more to reveal Mary’s lack of capacity to reason. The discrepancy between Mary’s style of discourse and that of Anne thus reveals the connection which Austen seeks to establish throughout Persuasion between language and character: the manner in which characters manipulate linguistic constructs inevitably discloses certain aspects of their inner being.
On a deeper level, then, Austen seeks, in Passage One, as elsewhere, to illuminate the distinction between an aristocrat by nature and an aristocrat by convention. For centuries, the aristocracy, whose name literally means ‘rule of the best’ in Greek, based its claim to rule on martial virtue. The reader notes, however, the curious dearth of any remotely Homeric qualities in the aristocrats who feature in the kaleidoscopic world of Persuasion; as indicated by Sir Walter’s condescension as he mulls over, idly, the worth of his new tenant, who so happens to have just returned from war (“he…went so far as to say that…he should not be ashamed of being seen with him anywhere”), the aristocrats have long abandoned their traditional role of military leadership and now think solely in terms of rights rather than obligations. In a sense, then, Austen offers an aristocratic critique of the aristocracy; she animadverts upon the aristocrats for failing to live up to their own aristocratic principles. As Austen makes clear at the end of Passage Two, where Anne expresses her deep disappointment at her father’s sycophantic conduct towards the Dalrymples, Sir Walter has adopted a way of life where ritualistic form is everything and content nothing. His life amounts to nothing more than a dry artistic performance, brutally cut off from the sources in nature that originally made the role meaningful. The transfer of Kellynch-hall from Sir Walter to Admiral Croft, depicted at the opening of Passage One, symbolically indicates to the reader that what the aristocrats of old have left behind, the naval officers have picked up. The reader is aware that, in fighting the Napoleonic wars on the behalf of the aristocrats, the navy has well and truly replaced the aristocracy as the new, masculine bulwark of the body of the nation against intruders. As a result, Austen suggests, they have as much, if not more, of the claim on the title of aristocracy as the aristocrats themselves.
In fact, throughout Persuasion as a whole, Austen is particularly sceptical as to the value of polite display. As Austen demonstrates throughout Passage Two, the mask of social artifice has a very real potential to deceive. The absolutism in “without any question” and the superlative of “pleasantest” combine to reveal the extent to which Anne was initially misled by Mr Elliot’s general exhibition of good sense. But Austen does not allow her heroine to remain oblivious to Mr Elliot’s façade, as revealed in Passage Three. Although at first she naively assumes that the self, projected by a man onto the world, gives a good indication of the self, projected onto the man by the world, Anne eventually detects in Mr Elliot a slipperiness that causes her much internal distress. Anne’s soul, Austen suggests, is connected to realm of obligations situated above that of facts, and so as much as she tries to reconstruct reality in Mr Elliot’s favour by application of reason in Passage Two (“It was not…it must be…”), her instincts and emotions eventually lead her to the discovery that, in the case of Mr Elliot, a radical disjunction exists between the interior and the exterior. Austen has the reader appreciate that by no stretch of the imagination does Mr Elliot deserve Anne’s hyperbolic acclaim (“nobody equal to him”). The bitter taste of conceit and deception, Austen suggests, cannot be glazed by the sugar of good manners.
Instead, Austen advocates authenticity of character. Across the three passages, Austen establishes Anne as the epitome of femininity. The proliferation of the moral auxiliary “must” and the repetition of the noun “duty” in Anne’s speech in Passage Two unveils the heroine’s detailed acquaintance with the moral standards of society. Unlike Sir Walter in Passage One, Anne is remarkably sensitive to the demands of society upon the individual, and never tires of reminding herself of the dictates of propriety (“In that house Elizabeth must be first”). Even in Passage Three, after her reunion with Captain Wentworth, Anne is conscious of the need for Lady Russell to “love Captain Wentworth as she ought”. The tricolon of “respectability…harmony…good-will” encapsulates all about which Anne is most concerned; the fact that all three are intrinsic rather than extrinsic properties, Austen suggests, marks Anne as a transcendent woman, and indeed in the closing line of Passage Three, Anne is abstracted to a platonic ideal (“Anne was tenderness itself”), not by a process which she implements herself, as in the case with Sir Walter, but by a process implemented by a truly deferential author. For her unyielding adherence to timeless laws of morality, Anne is rewarded; Sir Walter and Elizabeth, by contrast, are granted only a life of “half-enjoyment”. Austen indicates that only by remaining true to their sacred cores can humans reach the zenith of existence.
But Austen is concerned not merely with the welfare of the individual but, more importantly, with the welfare of the state. Austen presents, in Passage Two, a multiplicity of perspectives; the structural parallels between the first and fourth paragraphs (“think differently…did not always think alike”) serve to indicate that, within the fluid, shifting world of capitalism, deep chasms may exist between the minds of even the most intimate of individuals. The nation in which Anne lives is far from an integrated whole, but is rather constituted by a collection of social commonwealths, founded on location, and hence, by necessity, insular. Anne cannot comprehend the sentiments of Lady Russell precisely because she belongs to a different community, with a different ‘language’ and a different set of values and concerns. The incommensurability of different social commonwealths means, for Austen, that individuals within a nation are seldom able to come together of their own accord. Austen, however, finds in the navy a positive regulatory agent, with the capacity to induct disparate individuals into the community at large. Unlike the aristocracy, the navy instils within every individual a sense of social responsibility by reaching into the individual’s domestic life, and the reader no doubt appreciates that it is precisely this sense of social responsibility and duty that impels Captain Wentworth to recover the property of Mrs Smith’s husband in Passage Three. In Austen’s view, only with the needle of duty can the national be stitched with the domestic, and only when the national and domestic are inextricably tied can individuals find their place within the intricate tapestry of society.
Post by: drmockingbird on April 17, 2014, 02:18:57 pm
Passage 1 - (Gateshead; ch.1 p.9-12),
Passage 2 - (Gateshead; ch.4 p.39-42))
Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre traverses the story of its heroine as she passes through a series of episodes in which she develops her personal agency in order to find her raison d'être. Beginning with Jane's defiance of her aunt, which engenders her discharge from an orphaned childhood in a dysfunctional, malefic household into the oppressive pedagogic regime at Lowood, the text depicts her struggles for moral fidelity as a governess romantically entangled, and subsequently disillusioned with, the bigamous Rochester; and finally, her return to him after a crisis of conscience in which she is forced to confront the nature of her true romantic desire. Brontë's prose throughout Passages One and Two is dialectical, contrasting; the narrator's early confession of her own 'undeveloped', 'imperfect' faculties arousing the reader to empathise with the young Jane, thus creating a harrowing dissonance within the passages when she is persecuted at the hands of her society. Jane Eyre's juxtaposition of the interior and the exterior elements of the human condition serves to show the importance of personal fortitude in a world wrought with hypocrisies and diametrically opposed paradigms; a world where a child is expected to be 'franker' and 'natural' yet concomitantly 'trained in conformity', a world where 'worldly sentiment' is not taught but 'mortified', quintessentially, a world where the only solution to the physical paradoxes of society lies not in the external but the internal, the metaphysical.
Brontë's concern with religious hypocrisy and the effects of an ecclesiastical pedagogy on the consciousness of a child is evidenced heavily in Passages One and Two. The author, through the use of esoteric language, obscures the division between Christian doctrine and pagan cults - Jane's paranoia paints with the same lexical brush both 'churchyard(s)' and 'phantom(s)', 'headstone(s)' and 'death-white realms', thus, positioning the reader to correlate the apparently refined practices of the Church with animalistic, heathen ritual. Biblical allusion in the second passage serves a twofold end - firstly, Jane's rejections of the Psalms as 'not interesting', and Brocklehurst's retribution with threats of a 'wicked heart' and damnation in a 'lake burning with fire and brimstone' are used to characterise religious doctrine. Through their acrimonious judgment of a young child, Brontë portrays the Church, and Brocklehurst as its representative, as hypercritical, an epitome of fundamentalism. Secondly, Jane's predilection for certain Biblical texts - 'Daniel....Samuel....Exodus....Job and Jonah', each of which recount the story of a persecuted individual who struggled against their epoch's Zeitgeist, foreshadow the fact that Jane, too, feels constrained by her social positioning and will attempt to liberate herself from it, as Daniel with the Assyrians, or Moses with the Egyptians. However, Jane Eyre's theological critique fundamentally rests, not on the paganish aspects of the Victorian Church, and neither on the exegetical significance of Jane's scriptural preference, but on its hypocritical depiction of the ideal child, and how such a depiction encroaches upon the child's ability to develop psychologically. Brocklehurst defines a 'Christian' child as one who displays 'humility', yet by the same token a 'worldly sentiment of pride', and Brontë highlights the contradictory nature of these adjectives through Brocklehurst's subsequent aphorism - 'Consistency, madam, is the first of Christian values' - the use of the lexeme ‘consistency' to describe a religious conditioning elementally inconsistent accentuating the hypocrisy of its speaker. The absurd nature of Lowood's demands on its pupils is further reinforced through Brontë's use of asyndeton in 'plain fare, simple attire, unsophisticated accommodations, hardy and active habits'' and polysyndeton in ' how quiet and plain all the girls at Lowood look, with their hair combed...., and their long pinafores, and those little holland pockets', both the use of, and lack of, conjunctions in straight succession herein making salient the unrealistic, utopian nature of Brocklehurst's vision of an idyllic childhood. This layering of qualities occurs again in Passage One, where Mrs. Reed’s demand that Jane acquire 'a more sociable and childlike disposition, a more attractive and sprightly manner-- something lighter, franker, more natural’ leads to Jane questioning her own value - ultimately undermining herself, 'humbled by the consciousness of (her) physical inferiority' to the rest of her peers. Brontë suggests that such negative self-appraisal apotheosises in desperation and a sense of hopelessness - the useofanaphorain 'howevercarefullyIobeyed,howeverstrenuouslyIstrovetopleaseher' highlighting this sentiment insofar as it portrays the futility Jane feels at being unable to ever be commensurate to her familial and religious expectations.
Yet, where theological pressures mentally obstruct Jane Eyre’s heroine, socioeconomic pressures play a more pertinent, physical role in constraining her quotidian activities. Jane, by virtue of being an orphaned female child in an upper class household, is repeatedly reminded of, and persecuted for, her lowly position, both by Mrs. Reed and by her son John. This societal chasm is evidenced through the use of vocatives for the Reeds in ‘Master Reed’ and ‘your excellent benefactress’ - whereas Jane receives no such address herself, being called a ‘naughty little girl’ and a ‘bad animal’. The ‘red moreen curtain’, which separates Jane from the familial hearth, symbolises a division of blood between her and the rest of the family - both the blood of her late uncle by which she is being protected, and the differences in lineage, and thus social class, between her and the Reeds. The prose herein reflects the effects of this social conditioning on its narrator - the use of ’shrined’, ’shut’ and ‘separated’ expressing Jane’s lack of human contact; this is revisited later in Passage One, where Jane's choice of 'volume' reflects her tendency to struggle against societal obstructions; through 'Bewick's History of British Birds', the author establishes an objective correlative - the 'bird' symbolising both Jane's imagination and the freedom she desires, and the 'solitary rocks and promontories' representing Jane's aloof nature. In this way, Brontë suggests that to emancipate oneself from societal norms, one must accept the ineluctable consequence of solitude, of mental and physical ostracisation from one's own community; Jane's being 'kept at a distance' is not merely the division between the 'breakfast room...and the drawing room', but an ideological, social division, which supersedes, in Mrs. Reed’s mind, the familial duty she owes to Jane. However, although Brontë repeatedly uses objects such as curtains or novels in a symbolic manner, the most prominent form of the physical symbolising the metaphysical in Jane Eyre is through that of the natural world representing the protagonist’s psychological register. Passage One’s elaborate descriptions - the ‘cold winter wind’, the ‘sombre clouds’, the ‘forlorn regions of dreary space’ - lend the Passage, and the text as a whole, a tenebrous, subfusc undertone; the pathetic fallacy here both capturing the bleakness of Jane’s existence in the Reeds’ household, and, through its vast illustration of the natural landscape, portraying how Jane is dwarfed, rendered minuscule by societal dynamics far outside her control.
Nonetheless, Brontë’s heroine refuses to be surmounted by these forces - she is individualistic, driven to overcome and break the seemingly omnipotent barriers that her culture has erected for her. The use of possessive pronouns in ‘I formed an idea of my own’ highlight Jane’s tendency to think independently, to disobey the ‘orthodox’ stereotype - even at a young age, her curiosity is not suppressed by the limits of her what Victorian society deems ‘forbidding’. Further, through establishing Jane as a steadfast yet physically unattractive and financially disadvantaged female protagonist, the author critiques the stereotype that beauty and wealth are imperatives should a female prosper materially; a stereotype evidenced when Brocklehurst’s daughter correlates the ‘plain’ nature of Lowood’s pupils with ‘poor people... (who’d) never seen a silk gown before’. Although Jane may not possess the ‘silk gown’ of riches nor the ‘attractive manner’ of a more sightly child, Brontë asserts that her personal qualities are of far greater significance than her lack of beauty - through Jane's use of polysyllabic lexis in 'accumulation' and 'conception', for example, the author stresses the importance of intellect; through her stoic resolve to 'repress (her) sob(s)' in the face of being 'repulsed' and 'cut to the heart' by her sardonic benefactress, the importance of tenacity; through her delight in perusing literature and knowledge, the importance of personal initiative. This is, essentially, Jane Eyre's cardinal precept - that regardless of whether 'aversion' or 'unkindness' be sown on our external paths, that our anima, our internal, personal agency - as Jane's, should triumph, so we can be ‘happy: happy at least in (our) way(s)’.
Post by: ggxoxo on April 17, 2014, 02:37:48 pm
Post by: kandinsky on May 30, 2014, 09:04:12 pm
Jane Eyre Passage Analysis
Passage 1 - (Gateshead; ch.1 p.9-12),
Passage 2 - (Gateshead; ch.4 p.39-42))
Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre traverses the story of its heroine as she passes through a series of episodes in which she develops her personal agency in order to find her raison d'être. Beginning with Jane's defiance of her aunt, which engenders her discharge from an orphaned childhood in a dysfunctional, malefic household into the oppressive pedagogic regime at Lowood, the text depicts her struggles for moral fidelity as a governess romantically entangled, and subsequently disillusioned with, the bigamous Rochester; and finally, her return to him after a crisis of conscience in which she is forced to confront the nature of her true romantic desire. Brontë's prose throughout Passages One and Two is dialectical, contrasting; the narrator's early confession of her own 'undeveloped', 'imperfect' faculties arousing the reader to empathise with the young Jane, thus creating a harrowing dissonance within the passages when she is persecuted at the hands of her society. Jane Eyre's juxtaposition of the interior and the exterior elements of the human condition serves to show the importance of personal fortitude in a world wrought with hypocrisies and diametrically opposed paradigms; a world where a child is expected to be 'franker' and 'natural' yet concomitantly 'trained in conformity', a world where 'worldly sentiment' is not taught but 'mortified', quintessentially, a world where the only solution to the physical paradoxes of society lies not in the external but the internal, the metaphysical.
Brontë's concern with religious hypocrisy and the effects of an ecclesiastical pedagogy on the consciousness of a child is evidenced heavily in Passages One and Two. The author, through the use of esoteric language, obscures the division between Christian doctrine and pagan cults - Jane's paranoia paints with the same lexical brush both 'churchyard(s)' and 'phantom(s)', 'headstone(s)' and 'death-white realms', thus, positioning the reader to correlate the apparently refined practices of the Church with animalistic, heathen ritual. Biblical allusion in the second passage serves a twofold end - firstly, Jane's rejections of the Psalms as 'not interesting', and Brocklehurst's retribution with threats of a 'wicked heart' and damnation in a 'lake burning with fire and brimstone' are used to characterise religious doctrine. Through their acrimonious judgment of a young child, Brontë portrays the Church, and Brocklehurst as its representative, as hypercritical, an epitome of fundamentalism. Secondly, Jane's predilection for certain Biblical texts - 'Daniel....Samuel....Exodus....Job and Jonah', each of which recount the story of a persecuted individual who struggled against their epoch's Zeitgeist, foreshadow the fact that Jane, too, feels constrained by her social positioning and will attempt to liberate herself from it, as Daniel with the Assyrians, or Moses with the Egyptians. However, Jane Eyre's theological critique fundamentally rests, not on the paganish aspects of the Victorian Church, and neither on the exegetical significance of Jane's scriptural preference, but on its hypocritical depiction of the ideal child, and how such a depiction encroaches upon the child's ability to develop psychologically. Brocklehurst defines a 'Christian' child as one who displays 'humility', yet by the same token a 'worldly sentiment of pride', and Brontë highlights the contradictory nature of these adjectives through Brocklehurst's subsequent aphorism - 'Consistency, madam, is the first of Christian values' - the use of the lexeme ‘consistency' to describe a religious conditioning elementally inconsistent accentuating the hypocrisy of its speaker. The absurd nature of Lowood's demands on its pupils is further reinforced through Brontë's use of asyndeton in 'plain fare, simple attire, unsophisticated accommodations, hardy and active habits'' and polysyndeton in ' how quiet and plain all the girls at Lowood look, with their hair combed...., and their long pinafores, and those little holland pockets', both the use of, and lack of, conjunctions in straight succession herein making salient the unrealistic, utopian nature of Brocklehurst's vision of an idyllic childhood. This layering of qualities occurs again in Passage One, where Mrs. Reed’s demand that Jane acquire 'a more sociable and childlike disposition, a more attractive and sprightly manner-- something lighter, franker, more natural’ leads to Jane questioning her own value - ultimately undermining herself, 'humbled by the consciousness of (her) physical inferiority' to the rest of her peers. Brontë suggests that such negative self-appraisal apotheosises in desperation and a sense of hopelessness - the useofanaphorain 'howevercarefullyIobeyed,howeverstrenuouslyIstrovetopleaseher' highlighting this sentiment insofar as it portrays the futility Jane feels at being unable to ever be commensurate to her familial and religious expectations.
Yet, where theological pressures mentally obstruct Jane Eyre’s heroine, socioeconomic pressures play a more pertinent, physical role in constraining her quotidian activities. Jane, by virtue of being an orphaned female child in an upper class household, is repeatedly reminded of, and persecuted for, her lowly position, both by Mrs. Reed and by her son John. This societal chasm is evidenced through the use of vocatives for the Reeds in ‘Master Reed’ and ‘your excellent benefactress’ - whereas Jane receives no such address herself, being called a ‘naughty little girl’ and a ‘bad animal’. The ‘red moreen curtain’, which separates Jane from the familial hearth, symbolises a division of blood between her and the rest of the family - both the blood of her late uncle by which she is being protected, and the differences in lineage, and thus social class, between her and the Reeds. The prose herein reflects the effects of this social conditioning on its narrator - the use of ’shrined’, ’shut’ and ‘separated’ expressing Jane’s lack of human contact; this is revisited later in Passage One, where Jane's choice of 'volume' reflects her tendency to struggle against societal obstructions; through 'Bewick's History of British Birds', the author establishes an objective correlative - the 'bird' symbolising both Jane's imagination and the freedom she desires, and the 'solitary rocks and promontories' representing Jane's aloof nature. In this way, Brontë suggests that to emancipate oneself from societal norms, one must accept the ineluctable consequence of solitude, of mental and physical ostracisation from one's own community; Jane's being 'kept at a distance' is not merely the division between the 'breakfast room...and the drawing room', but an ideological, social division, which supersedes, in Mrs. Reed’s mind, the familial duty she owes to Jane. However, although Brontë repeatedly uses objects such as curtains or novels in a symbolic manner, the most prominent form of the physical symbolising the metaphysical in Jane Eyre is through that of the natural world representing the protagonist’s psychological register. Passage One’s elaborate descriptions - the ‘cold winter wind’, the ‘sombre clouds’, the ‘forlorn regions of dreary space’ - lend the Passage, and the text as a whole, a tenebrous, subfusc undertone; the pathetic fallacy here both capturing the bleakness of Jane’s existence in the Reeds’ household, and, through its vast illustration of the natural landscape, portraying how Jane is dwarfed, rendered minuscule by societal dynamics far outside her control.
Nonetheless, Brontë’s heroine refuses to be surmounted by these forces - she is individualistic, driven to overcome and break the seemingly omnipotent barriers that her culture has erected for her. The use of possessive pronouns in ‘I formed an idea of my own’ highlight Jane’s tendency to think independently, to disobey the ‘orthodox’ stereotype - even at a young age, her curiosity is not suppressed by the limits of her what Victorian society deems ‘forbidding’. Further, through establishing Jane as a steadfast yet physically unattractive and financially disadvantaged female protagonist, the author critiques the stereotype that beauty and wealth are imperatives should a female prosper materially; a stereotype evidenced when Brocklehurst’s daughter correlates the ‘plain’ nature of Lowood’s pupils with ‘poor people... (who’d) never seen a silk gown before’. Although Jane may not possess the ‘silk gown’ of riches nor the ‘attractive manner’ of a more sightly child, Brontë asserts that her personal qualities are of far greater significance than her lack of beauty - through Jane's use of polysyllabic lexis in 'accumulation' and 'conception', for example, the author stresses the importance of intellect; through her stoic resolve to 'repress (her) sob(s)' in the face of being 'repulsed' and 'cut to the heart' by her sardonic benefactress, the importance of tenacity; through her delight in perusing literature and knowledge, the importance of personal initiative. This is, essentially, Jane Eyre's cardinal precept - that regardless of whether 'aversion' or 'unkindness' be sown on our external paths, that our anima, our internal, personal agency - as Jane's, should triumph, so we can be ‘happy: happy at least in (our) way(s)’.
This is really good stuff. The only issue I have is that your writing gets far, far too flowery at times (e.g the last sentence of the first paragraph). Your focus should be on making the ideas amazing. At the moment the ideas aren't that great/not very original. The ending is a bit cringe worthy, to be honest. You use too many meaningless adjectives. You also need to talk about language more - and talk about it without using all the descriptive 'tags'. You impose your own meaning too much. The meaning needs to come from the words you analyse. Your insights are good - but your analysis of individual words etc needs to be improved. One thing is that you need to write much more in the exam (this is why you can't be flowery in the exam - you need to say what you want to say in the shortest amount of time possible - and then move on to your next idea, and so on and so on...)
Yes it is necessary to make the writing sound as beautiful as possible. But beautiful writing is writing that says beautiful things in a beautiful way (lol). Thus it can only be beautiful if what you're saying is beautiful/amazing. Don't write in a 'wanky' style when you're not saying anything interesting/original. It just starts to look silly.
Sorry for the comments, but I can see you are really good and want to get a really high mark, and therefore you need this criticism.
Post by: drmockingbird on June 03, 2014, 06:21:05 pm
This is really good stuff. The only issue I have is that your writing gets far, far too flowery at times (e.g the last sentence of the first paragraph). Your focus should be on making the ideas amazing. At the moment the ideas aren't that great/not very original. The ending is a bit cringe worthy, to be honest. You use too many meaningless adjectives. You also need to talk about language more - and talk about it without using all the descriptive 'tags'. You impose your own meaning too much. The meaning needs to come from the words you analyse. Your insights are good - but your analysis of individual words etc needs to be improved. One thing is that you need to write much more in the exam (this is why you can't be flowery in the exam - you need to say what you want to say in the shortest amount of time possible - and then move on to your next idea, and so on and so on...)
Yes it is necessary to make the writing sound as beautiful as possible. But beautiful writing is writing that says beautiful things in a beautiful way (lol). Thus it can only be beautiful if what you're saying is beautiful/amazing. Don't write in a 'wanky' style when you're not saying anything interesting/original. It just starts to look silly.
Sorry for the comments, but I can see you are really good and want to get a really high mark, and therefore you need this criticism.
Thanks for this kandinsky! Yeah I've been told I do that quite a bit (whenever I struggle for ideas I end up writing this kind of circumlocutory stuff). Whenever I try and study Literature, I seem to get frustrated due to lack of original ideas - what do you think I should do for this?
Post by: charmanderp on June 03, 2014, 07:28:36 pm
This thread is intended to just be a compilation of model essays, so try not to have too much discussion in here.
Post by: SheriSingsALittle on July 02, 2014, 01:27:53 pm
The divisions within Antony are emblematic of the divided world as he attempts to negotiate a self. Discuss.
Through the characterisation of Antony as a man precariously caught between the sensuous, decadent discourse of Egypt and the honour bound, logically blunt words of Rome, Shakespeare presents the palpable tensions between the two realms as the centrepiece of the play. Antony’s subconscious acceptance and repudiations of different aspects of the Roman and Egyptian binaries within the formation of his identity, result in his inability to inhabit a world so vehement in the categorisation of its inhabitants, which brings his ultimate downfall. Yet, paradoxically, it is also this same duality of values that gives Antony’s character depth and complexity. Thus, Shakespeare critiques the imposition of binaries and boundaries upon society and self, suggesting that these dangerously constrict one’s identity and limit one’s agency.
Shakespeare’s grandiose creation of Egypt immersed within passion and infinite expansiveness through its language and imagery, presents Egypt as the extremities of indulgence. The hyper-sensory description of Cleopatra’s entrance, evoking the vivid colours of “gold”, “silver” and “purple the sails”, the sweet scent of “a strange, invisible perfume” and the tangible softness of “silken tackle” and “those flower soft hands” in the sound of velvety long vowels and crisp t’s, gives the scene a sensuality and liveliness that elicits feeling within the audience, drawing them into this exotic, beauteous realm. Through the idyllic gracefulness and harmonious beauty of the scene, Shakespeare implicitly affirms the passion and livelihood of Egypt. Indeed, Antony’s expansive, eloquent language shows his acceptance of the Egyptian lust and passion. His divine exaltation, “for the love of Love and her soft hours” luxuriates in similar long, soft vowels, which accompanied by the enjambment of the lines, gives it a sense of flowing that mirrors the fluidity of Egyptian nature. Cleopatra’s entwinement with the elements to the point where the elements seem to defy natural laws to etherealise her, making her “burnished throne/burn on the water” and “her sighs and tears… greater storms and tempests”, combined with the unearthly transformation of Cleopatra’s subjects into “smiling Cupids” and “mermaids”, suggests that the Egyptian realm transcends mortal constraints to occupy a space of infinite proportions. However, unlike nature’s elevation of Egypt and Cleopatra into power, Antony cannot seem to fully assimilate with nature, as he is tied down to the world by his value of the Roman honour and pietas, and “the nobleness of life”, ultimately leaving Antony without elemental power in Egyptian discourse. The apocalyptic imagery of Antony’s “good stars… former guides/ Have empty left their orbs”, and the symbolic “rack dislimns and makes itself indistinct” mirroring Antony’s loss of concrete identity provides a stark contrast to the grandeur that resulted from Egypt’s conflation with nature. Thus, through the dramatization of Antony as Egyptian, but not completely imprisoned within the definition of that nation, Shakespeare challenges the strict dichotomies of society.
In direct opposition to the vibrancy of Egypt, Shakespeare’s Rome is encased within incarcerating institutions and an obsessive will to conquer, evoked through its formal, structured discourse and passionless imagery, rendering Rome the extremity of logic and discipline. The Roman discourse is punctuated with the language of pietas through “experience, manhood, honour” and “the article of your oath”, as well as conquest and wars evoked through “sword”, “kingdom” and “blood”. The measured beat, enacted by the hard consonants that seem to periodically appear within Caesar’s language, in “Pompey, good night. Good brother”, clipped by excesses of punctuation, evokes the strict disciplines of war inherent within everyday discourse. The controlled monotony of Agrippa’s “Her love to both/ Would each to other and all loves to both” and Caesar’s “join our kingdom and our hearts” with the almost mechanical repetitions of “love” and “hearts”, and invocations of colonial “kingdoms” even within a discourse of “love”, exposes Rome’s entrapment within its imperialistic strictures, which render them unable to express honest human emotion. Furthermore, the logicality of Rome inhibits its ability for a broader, expansive view of the world, suggested through the contrast between Cleopatra’s majestic entrance and Octavia’s arrival as a poorly “market maid to Rome”, a “castaway”. Even in the imaginations of a grand entrance, Caesar is held back by the intrinsic ties of Rome to the language of combat, rationality, and transaction, where the dullness of “an army for an usher”, and the unromantic “neighs of horses… tell her approach”, further illuminate the monotony and mechanical nature of a Romanised lifestyle. The subsequent dehumanized atmosphere of Shakespeare’s Rome, devoid of freedom and emotion, distances the audience from the rigid Roman discourse and propels them into the open arms of Egypt, thus expressing the playwright’s repudiation of the Roman lifestyle, which quells the human spirit.
Within his discourse, Antony is perceived to value the Roman codes of pietas, through his invoking of “[his] greatness… [his] power” and “the honour [that] is sacred”. However, he transcends the imposing strictures of the tight Roman discourse, broadening its possibilities through the expansiveness of his language and imagery, which permeate from his Egyptian self. Antony’s conflation of the decadence and fluidity of Egypt with the moral, honorific words of Rome, results in a new form of discourse that broadens the possibilities of Roman language with Egyptian expansiveness, breaking the discursive limits that govern the world he inhabits. His grandiloquent declaration "Let Rome into Tiber melt" conflates the Roman concern for empire in “Rome” and “Tiber” with the vivid imagery of a natural disintegration of “melt” rather than a Roman ‘fall’ or ‘break’. The cosmic proportions of “The next time I do fight/ I’ll make Death love me” evokes both Roman war and Egyptian emotion coexisting within the identity of Antony to depict a momentary potential for greatness. Through the beauty and complexities of Antony’s multivalent language, Shakespeare affirms the value of extending beyond the boundaries of dichotomous society to explore one’s true self.
However, Antony’s vacillating identity cannot be sustained within the brutal binary of the world, and thus Antony tragically “becomes his flaw”, spiralling towards his end. In the conflation of Roman war and Egyptian emotion in the Battle of Actium, Antony comes out in humiliating defeat, as his potential as a great Roman leader, exalted as “triple pillar of the world” and “plated Mars”, is overridden by his Egyptian indulgence in passion and lust after Cleopatra “like a doting mallard” overcome by primal instinct. It is only through his death that he is able to combine the two extremities, through the dualities of the intent of his suicide, for the Egyptian desire to “o’ertake… Cleopatra” in death and forever be with his love, but also for the redemption of his pietas, which was lost in the “disgrace and horror... [of his] command”. He dies by his own sword, “a Roman by a Roman/valiantly vanquished” and thus is killed in the honourable Roman way of combat, and yet the words upon his death depict a raw emotion and sincerity, through the simple tenderness of “carry me now, good friends, and have my thanks for all” and “Gentle, hear me”, which is unconstrained by the mechanistic Roman discourse. Thus, through the tragic death of Antony, a man who embodied potential greatness his breaking of barriers and invention of personal, freeing discourse, Shakespeare highlights the tragedy of a world constricted by imposing binaries and discursive limits, as it is these divides which stifle one’s identity and takes away their agency. ((I THINK I REWROTE THIS PARAGRAPH IN THE SAC, THE ONE HERE IS A BIT MEH...)
In this play, Shakespeare centralises the tensions between the binaries of Egypt through the characterisation of Antony as a man embodying both in varying degrees. The resultant downfall but the imaging of complexity and potential greatness ultimately asserts that these boundaries set upon society and self tragically bring one’s doom.
Hope this can help someone somewhere!
Post by: kandinsky on September 08, 2014, 01:03:57 pm
1. 8-9 Elizabeth and the Baronetage
2. 29-30 Anne reflects on her having been persuaded.
3. 193-194 Anne and Mrs Smith discuss Mr Elliot.
A lexicon of miscomprehension – “folly” and “ignorance” - pervades the dialogue of Anne at the opening of Passage Three, striking the reader for its bluntness in telling of the difficulty of “having much truth left” when in Regency Society facts pass through the hands of so many. This forms a powerful contrast against Elizabeth’s personification of the Baronetage as “an evil” in the first passage, where indications of body movement – “with averted eyes…pushed it away” are inserted by Austen to convey how the book is itself a physical emblem of the social restrictions of women. This same feeling of societal confinement is carried across into Passage Two; in the hyperbole of Anne that the breaking off of her engagement with Wentworth “clouded every enjoyment of youth”, and the repeated stress on time indicated by the constant use of the pluperfect tense – “had seen”, “had softened down much” - the reader notes how curbing inner desires to the dictums of common decorum results in an endearing turmoil within. Though civility is essential to human dignity, Austen admonishes that we must never allowed it to subdue the irrepressibility of individual human sentiments.
The deleterious consequences of forgetting this are that we are left lost in both the social and the moral sphere. The satiric delineation of social context in Passage One, where the comic absurdity of Elizabeth being “not quite equal her father in personal contentment” morphs into her “disappointment” of not having been “properly solicited by baronet-blood”, directs the reader to see how the pursuits of the aristocracy are without proper utility, and thus useless in the broader framework of society. And the diction for social gratification embodied in Austen’s characterisation of the young Mr Elliot, “agreeable”, is striking for its evident praise of outer decorum and neglect of inner worth. The reader is to recall the unctuousness of even the young Mr Elliot in the dialogue of Mrs Smith in the third passage, where the careful pauses of her dialogue (“Mrs Smith paused a moment”) indicate the very great import of the information she is providing to Anne – information which will by the denouement of Persuasion result in Anne’s rejection of artifice and acceptance of realism as embodied in the navy. Our lives might be better lived, Austen suggests, if we, like Anne, were to place rationality and integrity above folly and façade.
But even such an understanding has its limits. Mrs Smith throughout Passage Three refers to the importance of “acquaintance” not only in the sense of it being between individuals, but also between social groups and classes. And the centrality in her dialogue of Bath – “coming to Bath”, “came to Bath” – reflects the importance of social gatherings in a Georgian world where one’s acquaintances are the only modus by which to acquire news. And the repetition of vocabulary denoting social obligation throughout the first and second passages – “domestic habits”, “maintaining the engagement”, “he had distinguished himself” – connotes the authorial approbation of those who pursue lives with a dual commitment to the necessities of selfhood and the obligations of society. In Persuasion as a whole, Austen suggests that existence must be crafted not only by duty to the self, as is evident in Elizabeth’s self-centred dialogue in the Passage One, but also a duty to the community and by extent the nation. Much of the novel revolves around the notion of service to others, and Anne in Passage Three rejects her father’s desire that she attend the Dalrymples’ function in favour of her visit to the socially inferior Mr Smith. Austen moves then to capture how it is not mere duty that gives an individual worth, but the underlying values which give that duty substance; truthfulness and reason such as that of Mrs Smith and Nurse Rooke are required to ensure not only the integrity of the individual, but also the reliability of civilization itself. We can easily renounce our obligations to others, but Austen suggests that in so doing we would lose touch with reality – our lives would become as meaningless as our own social irrelevance.
Yet this deference to social norms is nevertheless destructive to the inner self. The authorial insistence upon age in Passage One, evident in the maxim that “it so happens that, a woman is handsomer at twenty-nine than she was ten years before”, alerts the reader to the underlying irony of the scene: the empty verbiage of Elizabeth bemoaning the appearance of her family members – “Anne haggard, Mary coarse” – alerts the reader to a certain simmering tension, where the true effect of age on Anne is not in the physical withering, but in the inner recline it is causing, which by the third passage will be on the growth again. It is also in the geographical transitions of Anne evident in the passages, from Kellynch Hall in the first two passages, then to Lyme as mentioned and Bath in Passage Three, that Austen constructs an increasing independence in her heroine. By freeing herself from the geographical limitations of Kellynch Hall, Anne is able to gain a physical but also an inner freedom. It is in the syntactic vigour and brevity of Anne’s dialogue in Passage Three, and its sharp discrepancy with the heavy sentences of Passage Two, that we see Austen’s approbation of those who are able to challenge the stifling limitations of intransigent social sets. Our lives are fruitless if we are without the audacity to go beyond the comfort of our own parochial sphere; humanity can only attain a wholesome and fulfilling existence if it does not hide in safety, but delves in search.
From this we can begin to comprehend the earnest suffering of Anne in the early stages of Persuasion. In the narrative ambiguity of “they knew not each other’s opinion” in Passage Two, Austen reflects on the stifling social convention which prevents Anne and Wentworth from discussing or referring to Anne’s having been persuaded by Lady Russell. The syntactic complexity of the passage, pervaded with constant dashes indicating emotional turbulence of Anne, and the repetition of “she did not blame…she did not blame”, indicate the equivocation of Anne in believing that she was right to have allowed herself to be persuaded. And the awkward conditional phrase that “she should yet have been….than she had been” reflects Anne’s difficulty in comprehending the possibly limitless “sacrifice” she has made of herself in having yielded to Lady Russell. It is in this ambivalence of emotion, punctuated with the anaphoric economic qualifiers “the usual share…a usual share of all such solicitudes”, that Austen reminds that our true emotions do not manifest under the guise of syntactic order, but only under the semblance of an evident inability to control language.
It is because of this that we must never depreciate the importance of the individual within society. In the authorial characterisation of Anne’s vision of the world – “she thought very differently from what she had been made to think at nineteen” – the reader perceives the importance of individual thoughts and sentiments within the scheme of Persuasion. And this same approbation of individual sentiments, rather than those of the whole community, is evident in the dialogue of Mrs Smith (“you will soon be able to judge of the general credit due [of her information]” in Passage Three and the authorial projection of Elizabeth’s individual vicissitudes in the first passage. Austen suggests that even the obligations of civility can succumb to the entropic powers of the self, as the individual is able to penetrate through these restraints and conventions. Austen is therefore never hesitant to affirm the freedom of the individual within the schema of societal cohesion. It is not the conventions of society which restrict us, but our reaction to them; society is an affirmation of, and not a prison for, our individual existence.
* please note that this was an early essay and there are issues; for instance, I repeat myself all through the final paragraph.
Post by: HopefulLawStudent on April 01, 2016, 03:34:57 pm
Post by: qazser on April 01, 2016, 03:47:35 pm
Is this thread still active? I'd love to read some more stuff you guys wrote. These are all super interesting to read, esp. because there is no structure in Lit so everyone's essays are so different and amazing.
This is where the Prem Awardees in Lit hang out, these essays are very classy ;D
Only doing Lit 1/2, maybe share some of yours ;)
Post by: HopefulLawStudent on April 02, 2016, 02:38:51 pm
I wish. But I can't, for two reasons:
a) My essays are nowhere near as classy
b) My school has a strict rule that prevents me from making any of the essays I write and submit to my teacher (be it SACs or practices) publically available whilst I'm still a student. The only reason there are some of my essays floating around AN for English is because I never submitted any of those to my teacher so there was nothing to stop me from posting it.
Post by: qazser on April 02, 2016, 10:17:56 pm
It's because they're so classy that I want to read them. They make an interesting read. I seriously wish there were more essays to read though... :'(
I wish. But I can't, for two reasons:
a) My essays are nowhere near as classy
b) My school has a strict rule that prevents me from making any of the essays I write and submit to my teacher (be it SACs or practices) publically available whilst I'm still a student. The only reason there are some of my essays floating around AN for English is because I never submitted any of those to my teacher so there was nothing to stop me from posting it.
That's a rule and a half, maybe create a Lit vocab thread and we can bounce vocab and structure off there :)
Post by: clarke54321 on April 03, 2016, 11:28:28 am
That's a rule and a half, maybe create a Lit vocab thread and we can bounce vocab and structure off there :)
I think that's a great idea since I feel as though my vocab is suffering in lit!
Post by: bianic on July 20, 2016, 05:42:48 pm
This is not even close to as good as some of the other essays here. But hopefully it helps someone in someway.
In his novel The Cat’s Table, Michael Ondaatje contrasts the importance of a sense of adventure, childlike disposition and risk with the importance of sensibility and the rite of passage. The sense of childlike wonder can be seen through all the boys but is most clearly portrayed through Cassius and Michael. However Ondaatje also portrays the importance of responsibility and coming of age through characters such as Mrs Lasqueti, Ramadhin and even Michael. The juxtaposition and the switching between the endorsement of both these conflicting ideas is perhaps Ondaatje’s way of representing the difficult but important of the rite of passage and releasing childlike innocence to embrace ‘maturity’.
In the Cat’s Table, Ondaatje uses Mrs Lasqueti in an almost ironic manner to epitomise the importance of maturity and an analytical perception. On the ship the three boys created a fantastical and imaginative tale of wonder surrounding the prisoner on board which was futher encouraged by Flavia Prins. However their image of the prisoner is soon shattered by the mysterious and individualistic Mrs Lasqueti who challenges Michael to “never believe what might just be a rumour”. Ondaatje uses this slight destruction of their joyous imagination portray to the readers a sense that whilst child-like games have their place it is important to hold an objective and factual perception of the world around oneself. Conversely Ondaatje does not seem to endorse Mrs Lasqueti’s character as a whole. Characterising her laugh as something that “hinted it had rolled around in the mud once or twice” and attempting to show the reader that whilst it is important to hold these mature views of the world, it can result in a rather ‘dirty’ personality which is hinted in the imagery of Ondaatje’s descriptions. Mrs Lasqueti, however, is not only used for her own actions and views by Ondaatje.
Ondaatje also uses Mrs Lasqueti and other adults to contrast with the more central characters of Cassius, Michael and Ramadhin to show the conflicting positives and negatives of each of their outlooks and personalities. The boys wondrously explored the ship and all it had to offer “like freed mercury” something which Michael seems to look back on with fondness even in his adult years. This may represent Ondaatje’s view of himself as a child and the nostalgia he has attached to his open and ‘freed’ self. The stiffness of the upper class adults such as Flavia and her awkward small talk with Michael seem to reiterate the idea of adulthood being a rather dull prospect, as Michael and Ramadhin seem resigned to the fact that they will not be “interesting strangers” like Mrs Lasqueti and Mr Mazappa, which may be influenced by the adult narrator and writer, adding a sense of impending fate that may not otherwise be present in a child’s mind. Michael somehow seems to be unaware of the influence the adults around him are having, which can be seen through his unawareness that they are perhaps being led astray by some of the adults. However simultaneously Michael also seems to believe that they are “learning about adults simply by being around them” and this again adds an odd element of impending fate in that Ondaatje shows the reader the odd circumstances the boys are put in, in a way that is obvious to a mature reader but is written as a child who would enjoy and revel in these circumstances with no sense of danger or upset. It seems as through Ondaatje revels in this innocent child’s perspective yet condemns the irresponsibility of adults for not ensuring that the innocence is developed before it is exploited.
Thus through the Cat’s Table it can be seen that Ondaatje endorses the rite of passage and the importance of developing maturity, however he also seems to present the view that adulthood is mundane and holds only a few hints to the joys of childhood. Despite Michaels remembrance of the ebb and flow of childhood attention the author presents him as a typical person who lost touch with his wild friend and also his safe and soft friend until death. Cassius and Ramadhin are used by Ondaatje as foils for each other but not for the traditional purpose of contrasting just the two, rather the two are portrayed as the extremes of Michael’s own personality. The “exuberant” Cassius is to Michael the older and “self-sufficient” iconoclast. Michael often follows where Cassius leads and finds adventure and fun in such explorations. It is as though Ondaatje uses Cassius, and the ship itself, to portray the fleeting and fast paced moment in life that is the transition from child to adult, a moment of freedom from a child’s constraint before the confinements of adulthood take root. The boat is Michael’s rite of passage and Cassius is the brief, final moment of freedom. Ondaatje uses this to epitomise the susceptibility and pure joy of this moment in life, and the lasting effect it has until adulthood, which can be seen in the reflective nature of the text. However in contrast to Cassius, Ramadhin is a soft and reserved character who Michael occasionally sides with, and in the long term, stays with for the longest. If Cassius is used by Ondaatje to show the fleeting moment of freedom then Ramadhin is the moral compass and guide into adulthood that Michael takes with him once the journey is complete. He accepts that “lives could be large with interesting strangers who would pass us without any personal involvement”. Ondaatje shows the reader clearly the negative repercussions of living as Cassius does but the use of Ramadhin is more subtle. From the beginning of the text Ramadhin slowly fades from being ill, to constantly ill, to dying, to death. And this may be used by Ondaatje to portray in a more elusive manner the danger of an overly soft heart and soul. That being to reserved and safe can in fact, still leave you separated.
The end of the text, although the reader is aware that more interactions with Ramadhin occur, they are “separated, lost from each other” and each “uncertain as to wherever it was that we were going”, Ondaatje uses this ending scene to show the separation of the boys and to represent the leitmotif of the text: that although childhood is something to be celebrated and maturity is essential for life; a combination of the two, the middle ground, Michael himself is the only way to survive in peace.
Post by: Maz on July 20, 2016, 11:36:48 pm
I thought about shareing my essay on A Doll's house, by Ibsen. It's on discourse and context, with a bit on reading practices. It is very long as it was a take-home extended essay. I got 88% on it, and came rank 1. Enjoy
Discourses evident within a text help to identify the social, historical, and/or cultural conditions in which a literately work is produced. Discuss with reference to A Doll’s House
By Maryam Qureshi
[/b][/b]By Maryam Qureshi
Ibsen’s play, A Doll’s House, presents a reflection of the world around him, allowing for a universal approach to the text, while exploring the lives of character’s, whom are trapped by social constraints. A recurring concern amongst Ibsen’s plays includes the social issue discussing the oppression of women by conventions limiting them to a domesticated life. The text showcases key aspects of society through the lenses of Feminism and Marxism and the effect the deprivation of these can have upon individuals. A Doll’s House represented the contextual issues of Norwegian society in the era of the plays publication; 1880s. Through the behavioral characteristics of control and deception, and an analysis of discourse, Ibsen in a way scrutinizes the effects of social, and cultural conditions in society, declaring himself to be ‘in revolt of against the age- old lie that the majority is always right’.
The play débuted at the Royal Theatre in Copenhagen, Denmark on the 21st of December 1879, two weeks after it’s first publication. At the time of publication the play elicited much debate centered around the abrupt deviation from cultural and social stereotypes of its characters; in particular of the play’s protagonist; Nora. This debate was not limited wholly within Norwegian society but was a universal occurrence. Subsequently, Ibsen was forced to provide an alternate ending when the play was to be performed in Germany, such that even the actor refused to play a woman who would not ‘want to see her children ’ and ‘cant stay here with you [her husband] any longer’. This path of thinking was an abrupt and shocking deviation from societies’ attitudes and values at the time. Harley Granville-Barker, a fellow playwright, commented upon the play when it finally reached the London stage, calling it, ‘the most dramatic event of the decade’. As it seemed, Nora’s abrupt departure from her ‘Doll’s House’ affected the mind of both sexes. The perspective of feminism explores the notion of equality amongst sexes, in all of intellectual, economic and political forms. At the time of publication, this would have been an idea that highlighted the degrading view of women, and their portrayal as the ‘other, of less significance’, in real world and literature. Since the 19th century, this focus has been shifted more away from women, to a movement towards covering the degradation of both sexes equally. Prior to late 1800s, Norwegian society reflected it’s patriarchal stance through the subjugation of women. These restrictions were reflected alongside the reception of Nora’s actions by Mrs. Linde’s discourse, ‘a wife can’t borrow money without her husband’s consent’. Beside laws banning women from taking loans, women were also unable to file for divorce or vote, with exceptions to these laws were only permissible if the woman was acting under her male caretaker’s permission. Women were considered careless and incapable and thus dissolved of any power. Due to this, they were expected to stay home, urged by the stigmatization often subjected upon those who chose to deviate from society’s imposed restrictions. An idea that Ibsen explores through Nora’s dialogue ‘I passed out of Daddy’s hands into yours [her husbands]’. Here, Nora’s resistance to the idea of being passed between ‘Daddy’s’ and her husband’s hands illuminated the extent of the extreme patriarchy amongst society at the time. Since Nora’s childhood, her father has regarded her as ‘the other’, then, her father handed her to Helmer who treated her like a valued possession. This is best depicted by Nora’s self-realization towards the end of the play as she describes the truth of her marriage, ‘you arranged everything to your tastes, and I acquired the same tastes. Or I pretended to...I lived by doing tricks for you Trovold.’ As Nora describes her marriage, Ibsen represents the cultural behaviour expected to be adopted by women, incorporating; a softness of temper, outward obedience and scrupulous attention. Helmer then provides a focus to this idea through the declaration that women, in the 19th century society, were given one role, to be ‘first and foremost, a wife and a mother’. Ibsen’s intent upon the portrayal of women through A Doll’s House is clear through some notes he had made, where he clearly highlighted the anomalous position of women in the prevailing patriarchal society, ‘A women [he wrote] cannot be herself in contemporary society; it is an exclusively male society with laws drafted by men, and with counsel judges who judge feminine conduct from the male point of view’*. Thus, in closing the door on her husband and children, Nora paved the way for the women’s movement through her opposition of the expected norms in society.
Throughout the majority of the play, Nora is portrayed as the subservient wife, ready to propitiate her husband, believing him the ‘head of the household’ and her caretaker. Ibsen portrays this social norm through her dialogue, ‘I would never dream of doing anything you didn’t want me to’. Though through the surrounding conversation by Helmer, ‘All right then! It’s really just my little joke’, and ‘I know that’, it can be deduced that she is saying this out of love; this phrase is a striking representation of society at the time. Ibsen creates a representation of women as being unable to dream, let alone act upon thoughts that would potentially be against the wishes of their male counterparts; highlighting the extent of subjugation evident amongst society towards women, such that even her ‘dreams’ are being controlled and fine-lined to fit inside the boundaries of a patriarchal society. However, it is not only Nora’s dialogue that becomes a reminder of a woman’s ‘place’, but also the dialogue of her husband, Helmer. Helmer, through the progression of his life, has chosen to utilize morality and honesty in order to achieve his success, both of which have been to some extent fruitful to him, and is portrayed as a stereotypical role model in society. However, included in this stereotype is the acceptance of Helmer’s superiority over Nora, an idea Helmer exercises through the way in which he addresses his wife. In the very first page of the play, he addresses Nora as his ‘little sky-lark chirping’ and in the proceeding pages, my ‘little squirrel frisking’ and ‘pretty little pet’. Upon analysis of these nicknames, it is evident of their substandard connotation. In all, he refers to her as an animal, substantiating society’s view of women as the ‘lesser’. Ibsen artfully couples each animal name with a verb to allow Helmer to accentuate his superiority over Nora through a reiteration of the role of women in society to be of a working nature. A fact, that Helmer chooses to remind his wife of frequently. It can also be observed that Helmer addresses Nora as ‘little’. This in a way adds a further layer to the idea of a feeble woman, who is forever under the wing of a dominant male. The extent of this superiority is realized to audiences later when Nora begins calling herself ‘it’; ‘we call it a spendthrift’. This discourse perhaps takes another level of subjugation, through likening Nora, a woman, with an inanimate object that has no feelings or personal thoughts. Through the symbolism of referring Nora to an object, Ibsen’s society is articulately reflected, through the positioning of women to be ‘conscious-less’. More astounding than this is the ease with which Nora refers to herself as ‘it’, highlighting that this discourse would have been a common occurrence. Thus, through this, Helmer surreptitiously reminds Nora of her place as the ‘working wife’ and the ‘sacrificer’, so that he is in the domineering position to give his wife everything, except that which society at the time restricted him from giving;
‘Helmer: I would gladly work night and day for you. Nora- bear sorrow and want for your sake. But no man would sacrifice his honor for the.one he loves.
Nora: It is a thing hundreds of thousands of women have done.”
Ibsen criticizes the lack of feminine equality through careful use of discourse to portray certain character traits amongst his characters that, at the era of production would have been viewed as flaws and retardation from societal norms. To cope with the behavioral boundaries imposed from society, certain characters employed strategies in which to cope, one of these strategies being ‘control’. Examples of characters attempting to control their environment are a frequent occurrence throughout the play, catalyzed primarily by their subjugation and victimization. Ibsen displays this directly through the discourse of the female protagonist, Nora. Though Nora openly stated, ‘I would never dream of doing anything you didn’t want me to’, as the play progresses she disregards Helmer’s requests on spending less money, eating sweets and paying for her husband’s treatment. Perhaps the primary example of Nora’s need to control her environment is the reason she takes her husband on holiday. Nora believed that Helmer was in dire need of a vacation, despite Helmer making it clear that he didn’t want to go; (when Nora presented the idea), ‘being frivolous, that it was his duty as a husband not to give in to all the whims and fancies of mine’. Despite this reluctance on Helmer’s part, Nora decides to hide the true extent of her husband’s illness from him and insists on taking him, ‘It was necessary he should have no idea what a dangerous condition he was in. It was to me that the doctors came and said that his life was in danger, and that the only thing to save him was to live in the south.’ This excerpt portrays Nora’s nature, and the resultant effect of her suppression. Nora, in taking a loan out, was ready to ‘take the law into her own hands’ and becoming a ‘hypocrite, a liar, and worse than that, a criminal! Mr’s Linde is also shocked when she hears of Nora’s actions;
‘Mrs Linde: Listen, Nora, are you sure you haven’t done something rash?
Nora: Is it rash to save your husband’s life?
Mrs Linde: I think it’s rash if you do it without his knowledge’
It is evident through discourse that Nora is still oblivious to the illegality of her actions and has little comprehension of the magnitude of trouble she may be in. Conversely, the exchange becomes an illumination of Nora’s frame of thinking; for her, any method she may take to reach a particular end point is justified if the desired end point ensues. Her approach to a dilemma is to control the situation, through bypassing any consultation that may result in an idea contradictory to hers. Nora’s statement, ‘‘I would never dream of doing anything you didn’t want me to’ becomes seemingly more and more implausible as the play progresses. Despite Nora’s autarchic actions, she remains unpunished. This however, changes following Nora’s fraudulent actions and her subsequent treatment of Krogstad, which prompts him to write a letter to Helmer with the intention of disclosing his wife’s actions. It is at this stage another one of Nora’s controlled situations emerges and Nora, out of desperation searches for ways to prevent Hemler from opening the letterbox and learning of her secret. Ibsen portrays the ghastly effects of the subjugation upon women, through an exploration of the side effect of deception. Nora, when practicing her dance, turns the situation to her advantage by deterring her husband from checking the letterbox where Krogstad had placed the letter;
‘Nora: What are you going to do there?
Helmer: Only see if any letters have come.
Nora: No, no! Don’t do that, Torvald!
Helmer: Why not?
Nora: Torvald, please don't. There aren’t any.
Subsequently, Nora successfully gains her husband’s attention and she begins to dance so wildly that he has to tell her, ‘Not so Fast! Not so Fast!’ and ‘Not so wild, Nora!’ Perhaps the most important discourse Ibsen utilises to present the desperation of Nora and her subsequent need to control, is portrayed through ‘Nora you are dancing as if your life depended on it’, to which she replies, ‘it does’. This discourse accurately portrays the position of women amongst society at the time, and more importantly, the position of the wife. The negative consequences of the patriarchal society become evident as Nora finds that her ‘life depended’ upon keeping her actions a secret and ensuring her husband never discovers her mistake, and thus devises a stratagem to cover-up the action, reflecting the austere expectations for women to fit the role of the innocent and be the perfect wife; to the extent that Nora described it as a matter of life. Subjecting woman to these extreme conditions for large interludes can be described as the cause of Nora’s controlling tendencies. From a post-feministic viewpoint is can be concluded that Ibsen, through the use of discourse, illustrated the resultant effects of this severe subjugation, and thus, in doing so, provided a description of society at the time, exploring the resultant future effects of the hierarchal society in which women were enforced to conceive severe processes to cope.
Deception is a peculiarity often associated profoundly with control, and hence becomes another subterfuge through which Ibsen echoes societal values. Ibsen articulately incorporates deception within A Doll’s House, to create a replication of the deleterious features of society and the coping mechanism’s women in the 19th century adopted as a means of ‘survival’. This innate characteristic of deception is evident within the opening of the play and becomes the first test of Nora’s honesty; a test which she fails. Helmer repeatedly makes it clear that he doesn’t approve of Nora ‘popping into the confectioner’s’. Upon Nora’s return, Helmer immediately questions her as to if she ‘forgot herself in town?’ and ‘Hasn’t miss sweet-tooth been breaking rules in town today?’ Nora immediately denies this; ‘no I assure you Trovold’, despite audiences later observing that she ‘takes the bag [of macaroons] out of her hand’, and offers them to Dr. Rank, questioning, ‘what about a little macaroon?’ To this, even the doctor inquires, ‘I thought they [referring to the macaroons] were forbidden here’. Through this discourse, Ibsen divulges that after eight years of marriage in a patriarchal society, Nora has developed strategies in which to be able to follow her preferences, while concurrently keeping her husband happy. This was a direct portrayal of 19th century Norwegian society, where women were expected to give up many of their personal preferences in order to please their husbands.
Though it may be possible to overlook these ‘little white lies’, some of Nora’s deception, however, has greater consequences. Another example of Nora’s deception appears again in an interaction between Helmer;
‘Helmer; Do you remember last Christmas? Three whole weeks beforehand you shut yourself up every evening till after midnight making flowers for the Christmas tree and all the other splendid things you wanted to surprise us with. Ugh, I never felt so bored in all my life.
Nora: I wasn’t the least bit bored.
Helmer (smiling): But it turned a bit of an anticlimax, Nora.’
The audience later learns the truth about what Nora was actually doing when she ‘shut yourself up every evening’ a few passages later through her conversation with her friend Mrs. Linde, ‘Last winter I was lucky enough to get a lot of copying to do; so I locked myself up and sat writing every evening’. Despite Nora’s justification for these good-natured lies, her deceptive nature is still evident. One deceptive act translates into another, and Nora’s nature changes completely as she attempts to cope with the cultural and social values of society. The danger of Nora’s deception, however, is not fully recognized until another conversation with Mr’s. Linde when she asks, ‘Won’t you ever tell him?’ to which Nora replies, ‘perhaps one day’ and ‘Then it might be a good idea to have something up my sleeve’. It is evident through this dialogue that Nora feels no guilt or humiliation in the lengths she goes to, to achieve her way. Consequently, Ibsen once again proves Nora’s adaptability to her environment; she has learned to survive and control a situation, from the position of the beleaguered and subservient wife.
Nora’s little lies continue and audiences are given the impression that she may be habitual liar, a trait even Helmer discovers;
Helmer: Has anyone been here?
Nora: Here? No.
Helmer: That’s funny. I saw Krogstad leaving the house.
Nora: Really? Yes, that’s right, Krogstad was here for a minute.
It becomes evident through this discourse, that Nora has made a routine of lying, to a magnitude that she doesn’t need to think twice on lying to serve her own purpose, even to those closest to her. This demeanor endures throughout the play, climaxing in Act 3, at which time Nora makes the final assertion of her departure. Though this scene has brought on enthusiastic welcome from many feminists throughout time, a deeper look indicates the real dark reason of the ‘doll’s’ abrupt departure from her house. The survival strategies Nora originally employed have evidently failed her, however, instead of changing her ways, Nora adapts to her new situation through careful modification of her strategies. She expresses this through the monopolisation of discourse and an obstinate repudiation to discuss the reasons for her departure. Her statements ‘that’s why I can’t stay with you any longer’, ‘I’m leaving here at once’ and ‘Let me go! Let me out!’ become evidence of this repudiation. Nora then departs from her untenable situation, declaring; ‘I must stand on my own two feet if I'm to get to know myself and the world outside. That's why I can't stay here with you any longer.’ Thus, through an articulate utilization of discourse, Ibsen presents the 19th-century woman as immature and deceitful, however also displays that as time passes she becomes more able to decide what ‘is a necessity for her’. Ibsen reveals and discusses the social and cultural position of women in his context and the innate resultant instinct of survival some developed in order to achieve some happiness in the strictly patriarchal society. This progression of Nora, developing from the submissive wife who, on the surface, obeyed her husbands ‘commands’, to the emergence of a ‘new Nora’; a women who decided to place herself first, is a direct depiction of Ibsen’s society through the exploration of the concept of feminism and it’s growth some decades proceeding A Doll’s House.
Marxist readings are methods of socioeconomic analysis; and an idea that ‘actions and human institutions are economically determined, that the class struggle is the basic agency of historical change’ Ibsen’s incorporation of this reading in his work created an exploration of the evolving expectations concerning the middle class during this time in Norway. The ‘bourgeois respectability’, as it was called, incorporated ideas of financial success free of debt and a high morale patriarchal society. The play opens on a scene where Nora enters with a bare Christmas tree, carrying a number of parcels and the proceeding discourse becomes evidence of Nora’s submission to commercialism, ‘Hide the Christmas tree away carefully, Helene. The children mustn’t see it till this evening when it is decorated’. Although a minor action, through a Marxist lens the need to dress the tree can be associated symbolically with commercialism, presenting Nora as one who is being forced to submit to socioeconomic standards. This Nora further exemplifies through her quote, ‘There’s a crown. Keep the change’. Though it is openly discussed between Nora and her husband that ‘this is the first Christmas they haven’t had to go carefully’ and implied that the family has had money issues in the past, Nora gives the money to the Porter freely and doesn’t catechize for change. This is perhaps the first hint, in the play, of societal thinking, during that era. Through this quote, Nora’s deludes the Porter of the low financial position of her family and gives the illusion that they are in a better condition than they actually are. At the opening of the play it becomes evident that Nora equates freedom with the acquisition of money, believing that the only way she can be ‘carefree and happy’, is if she has material wealth. Of course this frame of thinking changes completely towards the end of the play when she realizes that money doesn’t make her ‘happy’. This exemplification of one’s socioeconomic status and highlighting the importance of it is an everlasting theme amongst literature, and subsequently, a reflection of society. According to this notion of Marxism, Nora has become overwhelmed by her surroundings to the extent that she feels no option but to submit to the socioeconomically classified society.
Ibsen corroborates, through the accentuation of discourse, that Norwegian society during the 19th century was a manifestation of socioeconomic issues, driven by a severe patriarchal stance. The author highlight’s the effects of this frame of thinking through the deviation of ‘stereotypical’ behaviors in relation to gender, namely, Nora’s infatuation with control and deceit to escape the entrapment and subjugation placed heavily upon females. A Doll’s House is a reflection of the social and cultural norms as it deals with prominent issues that occurred during 19th century; discussing not only society’s conditions but also the resultant effects upon the subjugated. Through the presentation of the aspects of Feminism and Marxism in society, Ibsen portrays his drama as well ahead of its time by laying the foundations of the, then emerging, ‘Feminist movement’, decades before it’s actualization in the mid-twentieth century. Thus identifying the social, cultural and economic conditions prevalent in society, both during the time and beyond.
Post by: bianic on July 22, 2016, 10:13:44 pm
Jane Eyre - Creative SAC
Berta Mason - Short Story
Berta Mason - Short Story
This is not perfect but I was searching everywhere for an example when I did my creative SAC so I thought I'd pop mine up.
It scored in the top range so its at least a somewhat reliable example... Hope it helps someone. (Please ignore grammer and spelling mistakes, not my strong suit)
Post by: Maz on August 10, 2016, 11:35:54 am
Examine the ways in which writers shape and adapt generic conventions to reflect and expose particular value systems. In your response, you must make reference to at least one text
By Maryam Qureshi
[/b]Chosen text- The Great Gatsby
By Maryam Qureshi
[/b][/b]
Set during the post World War 1 economic boom of the 1920’s, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel, The Great Gatsby (1926), is often referred to as a chronicle of the American Dream, exploring a point of the nation’s history when capitalism and economic opportunity for all was at it’s peak. The Great American Dream incorporated the belief that anyone, regardless of where they were born, could obtain prosperity and success. Deep-rooted in the Declaration of Independence, the American Dream was the proclamation that ‘all men are equal’, with full right to ‘life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.’ Perhaps one the best works of literature, representing the American Dream is The Great Gatsby. Throughout the novel, Fitzgerald contextualizes a gripping antithesis regarding the Great American Dream, through a contrast and disclosure of societies key value systems, including the emphasis upon materialism and commodification. The Great Gatsby juxtaposes characters born in the upper echelons of society, with Myrtle and Gatsby, who attempt to transcend the class boundaries but ultimately become ‘incoherent failures’. The novel displays ‘how dreaming can be tainted by reality, and that if you don’t compromise, you may suffer’(Azar Nifisi). Fitzgerald’s text exposes the key value systems prevalent within society through an adaption of generic conventions, reflecting the misery of a modern capitalist society.
Employing the first person point of view, Fitzgerald conveys the entire story of Gatsby from the memories of Nick. Through this utilisation of Nick as first person narrator, the novel’s integrity strengthens as all key characters are neatly tied together, through Nick, in the position of ‘Daisy’s second cousin’, ‘Gatsby’s neighbour’ and ‘Tom[‘s] [acquaintance] in college’. It is arguable that, despite Nick claiming that he is ‘inclined to reserve all judgements’, Fitzgerald in essence, is providing readers with over 150 pages of judgement. Notwithstanding this confession, Nick is employed as a reliable narrator so that ‘life is successfully looked at through a single window’. Nick is taken out of any story line within the novel, hereby, creating an unswerving attitude towards the contradictions and conflicts, which drive the plot. Through ‘employing a narrator who is more of a spectator than an actor’ (Maxwell E. Perkins, editor of The Great Gatsby in a letter), Nick becomes an observer, however, not an impartial one. Consequently, through Nick’s eyes, Fitzgerald exposes the ‘ruin of society’ and degeneration of the upper echelons; as Nick depicts in vivid imagery, the ‘behaviour [of the guests] associated with amusement parks’, and the prevalence of meaningless indulgence within society. Though this first person point of view can provide vivid imagery, Nick can’t provide detailed knowledge of other character’s thoughts and feelings. In Chapter Five, Fitzgerald employs a transgressed point of view to surpass that narrative limits on a first person narrator. Nick comments upon Gatsby as he goes ‘over to say goodbye’ and sees the ‘expression of bewilderment [which] had come back into Gatsby’s face, 'Almost five years! There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams.’ In this comment, Nick creates a supposition to Gatsby’s mind, as the statement, ‘Almost five years’, appears as though it has come directly from the mind of Gatsby. Thus, the narrator transcends the limits of the ‘I’ witness point of view. This transgressed point of view serves importantly in conveying meaning within the novel as readers find motive in Gatsby feeling ‘a faint doubt’ regarding the meeting. Focussing upon Gatsby’s feelings and actions provides Fitzgerald opportunity to idolise those with wealth and power portraying the emphasise society placed upon the wealth; contextualising the era as one with ‘parties [which] were bigger, a pace [which was faster] and morals which were looser.’ .........Additionally to the transgression of the point of view, Fitzgerald employs shifts within the narration to view one event alongside another for long periods of time. Within The Great Gatsby, the shifts are predominantly presented in first person narration, however, they are of limited essence; being omniscient or partially omniscient. This is evidenced when Tom takes Nick to ‘see [his] girl’. As it is only rumoured and ‘insisted upon’ that Tom has a mistress, it is reasonable for Nick to utilise the omniscient view as he deems it ‘supercilious’ for him to visit Myrtle. Fitzgerald then quickly shifts Nick’s point of view to first person narrative as he becomes ‘curious to see her’. Here, this change enables the main focus of the novel’s plot to be centred around Gatsby, and not Tom, changing the attention focus more upon what Nick’s thought are, rather than the story of Tom. The shift from one point of view to another allows an observation of each character’s thoughts and feelings; sanctioning the development of plot and narrative truth. Nick becomes a vehicle for the author’s final judgement. Thus, through an adaptation of the generic convention of point of view, Fitzgerald shapes audiences to view Nick as an acumen and reliable narrator, so that he is placed in a position to successfully depict the place of commodification and materialism within society.
Utilising the generic convention of point of view, Fitzgerald exposes the failure of the American Dream and the drive for a materialistic lifestyle, through the eyes of Nick Caraway. When Tom takes Nick to the Valley of Ashes to meet his ‘mistress’, Myrtle, Nick likens the area to a ‘wasteland’, portraying the ‘desolate area of land’ as plagued with destitution and dilapidation. Nick’s point of view of the ‘ash grey men’, allows for Fitzgerald’s exposure of the flip side of materialism, revealing the detrimental outcomes, which ensue when all items are produced to facilitate the wealthy. Despite the outward appearance of excessive wealth, only a very small minority of the 1920’s society lived the ideology of the American Dream, while a large proportion of society lived in poverty. This was perhaps the first hint of the failure of the American Dream, which incorporated the idea of all men being able to attain wealth. Society’s emphasis upon materialism is realised through the stagnated characteristic of the inhabitants in the Valley of Ashes, who Nick categorically describes as ‘spiritless and anaemic’. Despite the ‘ghastly’ description Nick gives to every other aspect of the Valley, he depicts a slightly jovial picture of Myrtle; displaying her as one of ‘perceptible vitality’ and ‘sensuous [ness]’. Notwithstanding this early optimistic connotation, as Nick spends time with her, the first person point of view begins to mock her attempts to behave as a host, describing her as ‘violently affected’. Fitzgerald reflects, through an adaptation of point of view, that society within the twentieth century placed great emphasis upon materialism and commodification. This is indicated through Nick’s mockery of Myrtle’s ‘incessant’ and ‘immoderate’ movements, revealing much about society’s values as Nick ignores her infidelity and criticizes her for only her working class pretensions. On the other hand, through a combination of point of view and characterisation, Fitzgerald exposes the American Dream as un-attainable. As Myrtle tries to move up the social rungs of this apparent ‘meritocracy’ through her association with the ‘wealthy’ Tom, she is condemned, mocked and eventually killed; positioning her as the collateral flip side to materialism. This convention allows focus upon the key value systems prevalent in society during the early twenties’; conveying a society, which valued monetary possession above all else.
The novel provides an insight into the outwardly heady capitalist culture, exposing its dark underbelly and it’s impact upon personal value systems. The deceptive ‘inexhaustible’ charm of a life ‘full of money’ gives rise towards the decay of personal values. Fitzgerald utilizes many generic conventions to portray this ideology, however, none so powerful as the characterization of the wealthy Tom Buchannan, the bourgeois figure of the story. The ‘bourgeois respectability’, as it was called, incorporated ideas of financial success free of debt within a patriarchal society. As a member of an ‘enormously wealthy [family]’, Tom relates to the world majorly through his money, the one exception being his expression of ‘love’ for Daisy. For Tom, all things are commodities. Even his marriage to Daisy Fay was an exchange of beauty and social standing for the image of Tom’s strength, stability and power; all of which were imparted on him. This was an idea symbolized through the ‘string of pearls valued at three hundred and fifty thousand dollars’, Tom gifted to his bride-to-be. Though it is not necessary, or custom to spend excessive amounts of money on a necklace, Tom does this to draw attention to his affluence. Similarly, Tom utilizes his socioeconomic status to seduce Myrtle and his other mistresses, whom, like the guests at Gatsby’s party, are drawn to him ‘like moths to a flame’. His consistent infatuation in lower class woman can be explained through the commoditized view the world upheld in the 1920s. Tom promotes his wealth to women who are most desperate for it, satisfying himself at a level unaffected by logic, reality or the everyday world. This id level of satisfaction manifests itself in the desire to ‘purchase’ numerous working class women; including the ‘common, but pretty’ woman he interacts with, just metres from his wife. Thus, Fitzgerald, by exposing audiences to the nature of the prosperous, divulges the key value system within the hedonistic society through a reflection upon the detrimental side effects and thinking of the monetary driven.
However, ‘Tom’s commodity psychology is not wholly limited to his relationships with women’ (L.Tyson). Rather, it branches to encompass all aspects of the ‘you are what you own’ capitalist thinking exhibited through the ‘fantastic dream’ of the decade’s sustained prosperity and dizzying technological advancements. Fitzgerald conveys this key drive within society thorough an emphasis of Tom’s characterisation, incorporating the notion of Tom’s own sense of identity linked to how others see him. The importance of social status within society is disclosed with Tom’s discourse and his need to divulge the ‘nice place’ he has. Following this idea, Tom further embodies the consumerist attitude of society by mentioning that the house ‘belonged to Demaine, the oil man’, and thus, denoting that the house pedigree itself is of ‘old-money’ lineage. This convention of the wealthy displaying their wealth is evident again when Tom toys with George Wilson regarding the sale of the ‘car’. Financially, the matter of ‘sell[ing] that car’ means very little to the wealthy Tom, however, it is of great value to the impoverished George. It can be presumed that there isn’t even a ‘man working on’ the car, and Tom is merely dangling his considerable wealth in front of Wilson so he has an excuse to see Myrtle. Fitzgerald conveys the failure of the American dream, through Tom’s behaviour with the impoverished George. As the dream incorporated the idea of hard work providing success, it is interesting to observe that George, who was a ‘proprietor’ running his own ‘business’, is presented as the weaker and ridiculed, comparatively to Tom, who is given no indication of even working a day in his life and is given a position of dominance. Through this, Fitzgerald conveys the power of the upper class to the weaker class; denoting that the weaker are at the mercy of consumerist value system. Tom’s agonistic nature becomes a medium through which Fitzgerald ridicules the American dream; disclosed through the generic convention of discourse in Nick’s description of his ‘careless [ness]’ and his tendency to ‘smash up things and retreat back to [his] money or vast carelessness.’ Though Tom is living a life most people in the twenties would consider a dream, he ends up ‘smash[ing]’ up those who wish to become like him. In Tom’s case, Myrtle’s death becomes the method of ‘cleaning up [his] mess’. Subsequently, Fitzgerald exposes the unfair nature of and the respect those with ‘wealth’ demand, through a condemnation of the values of those who are born into ‘old money’. Furthermore, Fitzgerald here again combines the generic conventions of characterisation with point of view to convey Nick’s moral judgement of tort law in regards to the negligent behaviour of the upper class; who seem to only give shallow thought towards any idea that does not have a direct influence upon them. As Nick ‘shakes hands’ with him he condemns Tom’s brutish indifference, which pertains a likeness to negligence. Thus, Tom’s calamitous recklessness is analogised to that which would be felt when ‘talking to a child’. Nick concludes that it would be ‘silly not to’ shake hands with him, portraying Tom as decrepitude, exactly like ‘a child’ would be. Thus conveying the minimal attention society, during the 1920s, placed upon anything unrelated to materialism and wealth. Through the generic convention of the characterisation of Tom, Fitzgerald exposes the excessive underlying importance society in the 1920’s placed on commodification, and it’s key place at the very core of the American Dream.
Fitzgerald critiques the consumerist lifestyle through a stark separation between key settings within the novel. These setting segregations juxtapose the classes of ‘old money’, ‘new money’ and the impoverished working class. The consumerist culture exhibited in The Great Gatsby was possible through the growth of the upper class in the early twentieth century. This growth brought with it value upon the display of wealth and an era characterised by Republican notions of rugged individualism. According to this theory, the abundant wealth in the possession of Gatsby should have ensured the outcome of the American Dream. However, one quality that undermined self-made wealth, was wealth which was inherited and the result of an ‘enormously wealthy family’. This became a point of conflict between ‘old money’ and ‘new money’; severely criticising the idea in the American Dream of the value of hard work. In a culture manifested with pecuniary emulation, the most common method in which to declare one’s wealth was through possessions. It is through the expression of the generic convention setting, that Fitzgerald exposes the consumerist lifestyle evident amongst society at the time. This notion is perhaps most evident in Louisville, where ‘the largest of the banners and the largest of the lawns belonged to the Fay house’. The intense importance of commodification is realised through the discourse of the home itself having ‘belong [ings]’, which is portrayed as desirable by also housing Daisy who is ‘the most popular of all the young girls’. Here, Fitzgerald introduces another value system, which is prevalent not only within the 20th century, but also prevalent in the modern day. Immediately proceeding the ‘belong [ings]’ of the Fay house, Daisy is introduced in a similar fashion; exposing that women themselves had becomes possessions. This notion is supported by the generic convention of Nick’s dialogue as he describes the effect on Gatsby upon loosing Daisy as ‘his enchanted objects diminish[ing] by one’. The Fay house is brought up again later in the novel, when Gatsby’s past is discussed. It is here again, that Fitzgerald intertwines the two generic conventions; setting and language to further emphasise upon the value society placed on commodification. The ‘ripe mystery’ of the house attracts many ‘officers’, who sensed the ‘hint of bedrooms upstairs [which were] more beautiful and cool than other bedrooms, [the] gay and radiant activities taking place through its corridors, and of romances that were not musty and laid away already in lavender but fresh and breathing and redolent of this year’s shining motor-cars…’. This sort of language can be analysed through stylistic analysis to disclose the meaning reader’s can take from the language Fitzgerald uses; ‘to find the artistic principles underlying a writers choice of language’. Within stylistic analysis is the grammatical category of Appositional phrases and romantic, evocative imagery. The sentence is saturated with words that exhibit the sheer wealth of the Fay’s highlighting the ‘beautiful bedrooms’ the wealthy possess and the ‘radiant activities’ they engage in. Everything contained in this appositive is suggestive and works to provide the compelling, ‘ripe mystery’ of the ‘golden’ Daisy, thus depicting the rich as desirable and highlighting the importance society in the twenties placed upon material wealth. Depicting the ‘ripe mystery’ of Daisy, Fitzgerald depicts her as a commodity; exposing the dehumanisation of others that results from a society obsessed with wealth.
Whilst the Fay mansion laudably conveys the emphasis society placed upon materialistic possessions, it is only one of the many settings, which portray this. Nick notices that West Egg and East Egg are ‘dissimilar in every particular except shape and size’, driven by the need to constantly out-do one another. This competition became one of the most necessary plot drivers within the novel, as Gatsby and Tom fought for the materialistic Daisy. The Buchannan mansion, residing in East Egg, originated from families who have had money through inheritance and who have been categorically described as ‘old money’. East Egg of Long Island is a blatant representation of aristocracy and formality, accentuating the prominence of wealth in society. The setting concretizes ‘the sort of devouring, self-pleasuring and hypocritical materialism the stupendous and ruthless success of nineteenth century capitalism fostered and enabled’ .At the very beginning of the novel, Nick visits the Buchannan’s in their ‘white palace’ which he observed to ‘glitter along the water’. Coupling the generic convention of setting with language reveals the illusion of purity the house is depicted as exuding. Fitzgerald’s choice of words, including ‘white’ and ‘glitter’, are symbolically associated with angels and a notion of purity. The constant drive within society to be above others socioeconomically becomes evident, as the house is a ‘cheerful red and white Georgian colonial mansion’, affirming the cultured European taste that places them in a patrician society. This European atmosphere the house emanates is further enriched through the use of ‘French windows’ and ‘reflected gold’. The imported commodities and foreign design of the ‘palace’ provide the Buchannan’s with an image of esteem. However this directly reputes the values of the American Dream. The ‘palaces’ give rise to the presence of class within society, an idea which directly relates to the old aristocracy present in Britain; a doctrine which conflicts with the egalitarian republic set-up of America. However, even the Buchannan mansion gives rise to the failure of the American Dream. This is better depicted through the ‘tumultuous scene’ created from the ‘wreck’ of Owl Eyes’ drunken car crash. Tom emphasises that the house originally belonged to ‘Demaine, the oil man’, which provides Fitzgerald a deft and unobtrusive method by which to convey that the emphasis society placed upon material wealth that had attained a corrupt level. The notion of oil being a reactant in destruction is again depicted when Myrtle’s life is ‘violently extinguished’. Myrtle’s death brought with it the shocking spectacle of her left breast ‘swinging loose like a flap’ after the accident, exposing those who attempted to gain wealth as debased, disfigured and violated. Thus, to hide the failure of the American Dream and expose the materialistic nature of people in the early twentieth century, Fitzgerald draws upon Europe and ‘old’ history creating a façade to dignify and hide the dangerous value systems prevalent within society.
In contrast, West Egg as a setting is an emblem of the nouveau riche, depicting the vulgar and gaudy division of society in the 1920s. As the ‘less fashionable’ of the two eggs, the inhabitants of West Egg lack social graces and are consumed by a ‘raw vigour that chafed under the old euphemisms’. Perhaps the most ludicrous of all settings within The Great Gatsby is Gatsby’s own mansion and the location of his flamboyant parties. The mansion is described as a ‘colossal affair by any standard’, imitating ‘Hotel de Ville in Normandy’ and exposing Gatsby’s all too obvious efforts to create a façade of sophistication. This exemplification of one’s socioeconomic status and highlighting the importance of it is an everlasting theme amongst literature, and subsequently, a reflection of society. The mansion, like the Buchannan house, is a symbol of excess wealth containing a ‘tower on one side, spanking new under a thin beard of raw ivy, and a marble swimming pool and more than forty acres of lawn and garden’. The use of large multi-clausal sentences describe the numerous “bedrooms swathed in rose and lavender and silk and vivid with new flowers, through dressing rooms and pool rooms and bathing room with sunken baths’, the house contains. However, despite this and the ‘celebrated people’ Gatsby fills it with, the Gatsby mansion appears ‘lonely’ and lacks the elegance and sophistication present in the Buchannan house. Emphasised via the plural language, Gatsby’s mansion is filled with fatuous assets, which hold little meaning, depicting the failure of the American Dream as Gatsby creates a hollow imitation of his wealth. The need for a monstrous façade to obtain happiness is depicted as pitiable, and through Nick’s eyes, Gatsby’s quest for his ‘green light’ is romanticised. According to this notion of consumerism, Gatsby has become overwhelmed by his surroundings, to the extent that he feels no option but to submit to the socioeconomically classified society. However, even when he does, he is still considered as an outsider by his guests, many of whom leave ‘without having met Gatsby at all’. Through this Fitzgerald not only reveals the value system of materiality which was of major prevalence within society, but, also depicts the failure of the American Dream, as even the ‘Great’ Gatsby, who embodies the description of wealth, is still treated as an outsider since he is not of ‘old money’ lineage.
The opening of Chapter Three provides a sensory depiction of Gatsby’s parties. Fitzgerald describes the scene as one of uncontained debauchery where inhabitants are driven purely by the pursuit of pleasure. Although Gatsby’s house is ‘full of people’ and a container for hoards of wealthy positions, it is spiritually empty, exposing the hollowness of the American Dream. Fitzgerald describes the party with an air of excessive consumption as the ‘buffet tables’ are ‘garnished with glistening hors –d’ouevre spiced backed hams…and turkeys bewitched to dark gold’. Fitzgerald again combines language with setting through narrative sentence types in the Grammatical category of Stylistic Analysis. The party is depicted as a kaleidoscope of movement as
‘groups change more swiftly, swell with new arrivals, dissolve and form in the same breath; already there are wanderers, confident girls who weave here and there among the stouter and more stable, become for a sharp, joyous moment the center of a group, and then, excited with triumph, glide on through the sea-change of faces and voices and color under the constantly changing light.’
Despite being the longest sentence in the description of Gatsby’s oncoming party, there is no loss of clarity. Its first clause in a composition of four coordinated verbs; ‘change’, ‘swell’, ‘dissolve’ and ‘wonder’. The apposition of ‘confident girls’ which ‘weave’, ‘become’ and ‘glide’, provide the sentence with a description depicting quick movement from one ‘group’ to the next; hence highlighting the atmosphere of chaos and mindlessness. Gatsby held parties often, almost as if that will bring the life to him that he lacks within himself. However, the popularity this party brings him as ‘men and girls went like moths’, fails to fulfil the purpose of filling the emptiness within Gatsby, rendering those who follow the idea of the American Dream and build up their own wealth as outcasts of society.
However, it is not until after Gatsby’s death that the true contrast and nature of the roaring 20s is realised. The dream Nick has proceeding Gatsby’s death, unveils another side of America that had become ‘distorted’ under the glitz and glamour of riches and parties. Fitzgerald depicts a stark imagery in the setting of East Egg;
‘Even when East Egg excited me most…it had always for me a quality of distortion. West Egg, especially still figures in my more fantastic dreams. I see it as a night scene by el Greco: a hundred houses, at once conventional and grotesque, crouching under a sullen overhanging sky and a lusterless moon.’
Evidence of the corrupting society and the failure of the American Dream soon become apparent as East Egg is stripped bare of it’s façade. The once uncontained hedonism of a place ‘full of people’ has become a place of human alienation, with ‘a hundred houses’ that have now become ‘grotesque’ rather than ‘fashionable’ and ‘cheerful’ as they once were. The ‘drunken women’ becomes a symbol of the exhausted nature of society as ‘four solemn men’, who don’t even know ‘the woman’s name’, deliver her. The image painted is bleak as the sky ‘overhangs’; ‘sullen’, exposing the moral decay now becoming evident. The emphasise placed upon wealth during the ’twenties had attained a status where even the woman’s ‘cold jewels’ have more ‘sparkle’ than the ‘lustreless moon’, criticising the value system that emphasized materialism above all else.
Fitzgerald exposes, through an accentuation of the generic conventions of characterisation, language, setting and dialogue; that American society within the 20th century was manifested with the value system of commodification, driven by the want for a materialistic lifestyle. Fitzgerald highlights this through a ridicule of the values of the American Dream and the resultant effects upon those who followed its incorporated concepts. Both Myrtle and Gatsby, the two characters’ striving for the attainment of the American dream suffered the severe consequence of death. In the end, Gatsby never attains ‘the green light, and the orgastic future’, despite believing in it even when it ‘eluded’ and ‘receded before [him]’. Thus, through the medium of The Great Gatsby, Fitzgerald reflects upon the American dream as unattainable and an empty promise of happiness. Despite this, society within and beyond the 20th century, places great emphasis upon materialistic wealth and commodification, a value system that is to this day, timeless. ‘That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you are not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.’ (Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald).
Post by: Coffee on October 03, 2016, 10:25:18 am
This essay received 40/40 marks.
“In Jane Eyre, Bronte criticises conventional social structures, suggesting that they limit individuality, imagination, and self-expression.”
Charlotte Bronte’s novel, Jane Eyre condemns the treatment of women and their position within Victorian society. In her examination of ideological beliefs and social constructions prevalent in the Victorian era, Bronte suggests that women are confined due to their gender through her analysis and exposure of the limitations placed upon women.
Demonstrating the restrictive nature of religious values on the growth and development of women, Bronte criticises the teachings of Evangelism embodied by the character of Mr Brocklehurst at Lowood Institute. Declaring that the girls hair be arranged “plainly” and clothed in “simple attire” and live in “unsophisticated accommodations,” Mr. Brocklehurst suggests that women ought to live conservatively- a conflicting view in contrast to Bronte’s empowerment of women. Bronte’s description of Brocklehurst: “a black pillar… a sable clad standing erect” reveals the apparent dominance that Brocklehurst- and consequently religion- possesses over the young Jane, and it is this that she must battle lest she be confined to the limitations placed upon the female sex. The description: a “straight, narrow figure” refers to the hard nature and obstinacy of Brocklehurst and that his face is described as a “carved mask” refers to his inhumanity and that too of the Evangelism religion. Similarly, Jane refers to Brocklehurst as her “interrogator;” the connotations which suggest an intensive and harsh questioning process rather than a mere enquiry provide a clear expression of Bronte’s condemnation of religion’s role in the oppression of women during the Victorian era. Thus, readers are compelled to view Brocklehurst’s embodiment of religion as severe. In spite of this blatant oppression Bronte observes, Jane demonstrates her strong will and sense of self. Suggesting that Jane is “wicked” Brocklehurst threatens she will go to “hell” after death, but Jane’s assertion that she must “keep in good health and not die” declares her unwillingness to conform to patriarchal expectations. Bronte further emphasises Jane’s strength when many of the girls at Lowood fall ill and die. The typhus that “predisposed most of the pupils” serves as a metaphor for the oppression which religion bestows. By Jane remaining alive and strong; “continu[ing] well” and “enjoy[ing] full the beauties of the scene,” Bronte illustrates Jane’s defiance against the restrictions of societal expectations placed on the female sex.
Demonstrated through the relationship between Jane and St. John, Bronte criticises the societal expectations that surround a marriage of convenience in favour of a marriage formed on mutual love and affection such as that which is seen between Jane and Rochester. On the notion of marrying for convenience, Bronte expresses her view in Jane’s declaration: “I scorn your idea of love.” Bronte’s criticism is particularly clear as Jane “rose up and stood before” St. John. Bronte shows Jane’s active defiance and moral superiority as she rises above the expectations within Victorian society. Examining the linguistic features of each proposal made to Jane, readers can infer Bronte’s overarching view towards the idea of marriage; that is, Bronte argues a marriage of convenience is oppressive to women and limits their individual growth and development. Bronte’s descriptive romantic language in the proposal between Jane and St. John; the “hills… shut us quite in,” suggests a sense of isolation and restriction and propounds that a marriage based on principle would be almost suffocating. Furthermore, the motif of fire: “no light kindling” and Bronte’s referral to Jane’s mind as a “rayless dungeon” emphasises the absence of Jane’s emotions and passions towards marrying St. John. This proves negative and detrimental to Jane’s happiness and thus Bronte is unable to advocate for it. In contrast, the setting described when Rochester proposes to Jane is remarked as “Eden-like” with “trees laden with fruit ripening” and a “nightingale warbling” providing a warm and sincere atmosphere. Bronte’s intricate construction of mood suggests a sense of contentedness and thus reflects her encouragement towards a marriage that is based on mutual affection coupled with her advocating for the defiance against societal standards of marriage that oppress women within the Victorian era. Furthermore, as Jane secures financial independence and rises above these expectations, her language becomes increasingly dominative and assertive as she declares “I married him” and refers to Rochester by name rather than “master.”
Through her characters interactions, Bronte presents an empowering view of women in the Victorian era. Voiced through Jane, Bronte suggests women “suffer too rigid a restraint” and it is “thoughtless to condemn them” where they “seek to do more… than custom has announced necessary for their sex.” A prevalent feeling amongst Victorian women, Bronte also describes Jane’s longing for independence and equality. The gender imbalance between men and women is omnipresent throughout the novel and is often embedded within the dialogue of Bronte’s male characters. The language used by Rochester in his proposal to Jane is dominative and controlling as he “summons” her and declares he “must have” her. Jane submits to this treatment as evident in her referral to Rochester as “master.” However, Jane remarks she does not think he has a “right to command” her, thereby demonstrating a sense of strength and defiance as she raises the question of men’s rights to make demands of women. As Jane realises the financial and social disparity between herself and Rochester, she suggests that Rochester reminds her of a “sultan” who “bestow(s) on a slave his gold and gems.” Bronte’s focus on the material object of jewels draws on the objectification of women as mere objects of male desire. Jane’s plea: “never rain jewels… Jewels for Jane Eyre sounds unnatural and strange” and “don’t send for the jewels and don’t crown me…” serves as a strong defiance against the gender imbalance that penetrates Victorian society and the branding of the female sex as an object of male desire.
In Jane Eyre Bronte challenges the ideological beliefs and social constructions of the Victorian era that have been used as a tool of oppression against women. However, through the defiance of her protagonist, Bronte suggests the capabilities of women that extend beyond the boundaries and limitations set before them.
Post by: HopefulLawStudent on January 01, 2017, 04:46:02 pm
To mark the start of the new year, I thought I'd post up a bunch of my Literature essays. Think of it as my new year's present to you and all of AN if you will.
More to come.
EDIT: I have no idea when some of these essays were written so I can't guarantee that all of these will be high quality especially because my first few attempts at close analysis essays failed catastrophically -- definitely got better as I went along though.
To access the attachments, you need to make/log in to an ATARnotes account -- sorry for any inconvenience! I was just gonna post my essays individually originally but when I copied and pasted it, all my paragraphing got messed up so instead I just attached the word documents cos lazy.
Post by: lilyrosee on August 08, 2017, 10:03:11 am
HAPPY 2017!
To mark the start of the new year, I thought I'd post up a bunch of my Literature essays. Think of it as my new year's present to you and all of AN if you will.
More to come.
EDIT: I have no idea when some of these essays were written so I can't guarantee that all of these will be high quality especially because my first few attempts at close analysis essays failed catastrophically -- definitely got better as I went along though.
To access the attachments, you need to make/log in to an ATARnotes account -- sorry for any inconvenience! I was just gonna post my essays individually originally but when I copied and pasted it, all my paragraphing got messed up so instead I just attached the word documents cos lazy.
Hey,
Do you have any sample essays on Cat on a Hot Tin Roof or Seamus Heaney poetry?? Thanks
Post by: MightyBeh on August 08, 2017, 11:42:40 am
Hey,
Do you have any sample essays on Cat on a Hot Tin Roof or Seamus Heaney poetry?? Thanks
I have one on Seamus Heaney's poems. I believe it was 17 or 18 out of 20 by exam standards so it's certainly not perfect, but worth a look if you can read my handwriting. Marking sheet is attached so you can see where I messed up ::)
General things to avoid that appear in the essay are poor handwriting, and unclear meanings (i.e. there's some logic jumps and phrasing issues). Some areas definitely could have been improved by cutting out bits. In case you can't read it - it's my own handwriting and I had trouble - lmk and I have some spare time tonight to type it up. :)
Here, file is too large to attach.
Post by: lilyrosee on August 09, 2017, 06:04:25 pm
I have one on Seamus Heaney's poems. I believe it was 17 or 18 out of 20 by exam standards so it's certainly not perfect, but worth a look if you can read my handwriting. Marking sheet is attached so you can see where I messed up ::)
General things to avoid that appear in the essay are poor handwriting, and unclear meanings (i.e. there's some logic jumps and phrasing issues). Some areas definitely could have been improved by cutting out bits. In case you can't read it - it's my own handwriting and I had trouble - lmk and I have some spare time tonight to type it up. :)
Here, file is too large to attach.
Thank-you so much. I had a quick read over it and it was hard to decipher in some places so if you get a chance to type it up that would be much appreciated :)
Post by: emily.tyack on November 09, 2018, 02:56:54 pm
‘In Heart of Darkness, Conrad both challenges and reinforces the views and values of his society’.
Chinua Achebe underpins Joseph Conrad’s ultimate deficiency within his essay, ‘An Image of Africa’, fiercely declaring that “Conrad saw and condemned the evil of imperial exploitation but was strangely unaware of the racism on which it sharpened its iron tooth”. Conrad’s modernist novella, ‘Heart of Darkness’ dismantles the philanthropic ideal of imperialism amidst the ‘Scramble for Africa’ in the late 19th century, exposing the true pursuit of the Europeans: “profit”. However, within this condemnation of colonialism and imperial exploitation, Conrad still exercises the notion of European superiority, juxtaposing the River Thames, an extension of Europe, and the “prehistoric” River Congo, a symbol of Africa, which becomes the notorious antithesis of civilised society. Conrad, vicariously through Marlow, fails to truly acknowledge the “remote kinship” in which the Europeans share with the primitive Congolese, distancing themselves from the “acute angles”. These reductive and dehumanising descriptions perpetuate the othering and systemic oppression of the Congolese, upholding the prejudiced beliefs of Europeans in the Victorian Patriarchy.
Conrad begins the novella with the direct indictment of colonisation itself, referencing the Roman Colonisation of London. Marlow, as an extension of Conrad, blatantly criticises the colonisers, reducing the act to “conquering” coupled with “brute force”. Marlow states that imperialism is just “robbery with violence, aggravated murder on a great scale, and men going at it blind - as it is very proper for those who tackle a darkness”. This scathing condemnation challenges the general perception of imperialism, exposing that it is not a philanthropic mission to “wean those ignorant millions from their horrid ways” like Marlow’s ingenuous aunt believes. Such subjugation and avarice-driven oppression is illuminated again, “the conquest of the earth , which mostly means the taking it away from those who have a different complexion or slightly flatter noses than our ourselves”. Here, Marlow directly detests colonialism and lambasts those that exercise the notion of superiority. Hence, Conrad establishes his novella as anti-colonial, a direct attack on Europe, specifically England, at its height of the Victorian Era Imperialist pursuit. Thus, both past and contemporary audiences can comprehend the absolute devastating effects that Western exploitation has on the colonised.
However, the rest of Conrad’s novella does attempt to challenge Eurocentric ideals and the notion of white superiority by representing the Congolese in Victorian Era, Conrad ultimately perpetuates the systematic ignorance of the Congolese through its limited voice, supporting Western hegemony of the 19th century. Conrad’s modernist novella features a frame narrative, which is mediated by two European voices; the narrator and Marlow. The voices and opinions of these men permeate the story, establishing that the titled Europeans are superior to the native Congolese within the Congo Free State through their more humane descriptions. Marlow is depicted by the narrator with his “arms dropped, the palms of his hands outwards, resembl[ing] an idol”, such connotations of “idol” conjures this idea that Marlow is akin to an omnipotent deity, full of wisdom. Moreover, Marlow and his fellow titled Europeans are all described in pronouns like “his” or “he”. Conversely, the native Congolese are often mentioned by the Europeans, using terms like “it”, reducing them to objects. This distinction clearly reinforces racist and prejudiced Victorian Era ideals of white superiority.
Conrad further reinforces the ideals of Western hegemony through his constant reductive descriptions of the Congolese. Once Marlow arrives in the Congo Free State, he comes across the enslaved, dying Congolese in a “grove”. Marlow initially comments that the “hole” was perhaps “connected with the philanthropic desire of giving the criminals something to do”. Despite Marlow rejecting the Congolese’s ‘criminal’ status later on in the novella and illuminating the pure victimisation and exploitation of the Congolese by the Western imperialist pursuit, Conrad continues to perpetuate the othering of the Congolese by dehumanisation. Conrad refuses to acknowledge the “remote kinship” that he shares with the Congolese, instead exercising the notion of superiority, referring to them as “black shapes”. Such reductive synecdoche dehumanises and objectifies the Congolese, clearly allowing modern readers to analyse the distinction between Europeans and the “moribund shapes”. Marlow comments on the horrific conditions in which the “black shadows of disease and starvation” contend with “in all the attitudes of pain, abandonment, and despair”, condemning to both modern and contemporary readers the European’s pure rapacious greed and ignorance. However, Marlow’s commentary on the Congolese and Conrad’s attempt at exposure on the imperialist pursuit quickly leads to the reinforcing of Victorian Era notion of superiority, as Marlow, and thus Conrad, fails to express sympathy, let alone empathy. “Another mine cliff went off… the work was going on, the work!”, this rapid subject change highlights the sheer lack of human compassion, leading modern audiences to believe that despite Conrad’s commitment to exposing the true imperialist pursuit, he cannot comprehend their “ugly” shared humanity, thus, he cannot show true human emotion to these “[un]earthly” “creatures”. Furthermore, this illuminates Conrad’s, and thus Western Hegemony’s, desire: “ivory rang in the air”.
Eurocentric notions of superiority are further emphasised within Part II of Conrad’s novella, in which Marlow must physically cooperate with the “savage who was fireman”. The fireman is classified as “savage”, these primitive characteristics are emphasised through Conrad’s reductive synecdoche, as noted in the “wool of [fireman’s] pate” and the constant dehumanisation, comparing fireman to a “dog… walking on his hind legs”. Rendering the fireman to an animal suggests that Conrad, and thus all Europeans, believe that the Congolese are more akin to a four-legged beasts than humans and merely mimic human actions. Therefore, Conrad layers on animalistic and primordial behaviours & characteristics, according to Achebe, to separate European’s “vaunted intelligence” from their lingering ‘threat’; “[the] suspicion of [the Congolese] not being inhuman”. This suppression of humanity is evident when Marlow states that the “few months of training had done for that really fine chap”, resulting in the fireman becoming an “improved specimen”, reinforcing western ideals of assimilation and consequent civilisation. The use of the noun “chap”, not a an “acute angle” “stamping his hands”, enables the audience to recognise that Conrad is briefly humanising the Congolese fireman, contesting the Victorian, superiority-fuelled belief that the Congolese are sub-human, as Conrad remotely recognises the humanity within the fireman. However, the ingenuous fireman is continually infantilised and intellectually exploited by Marlow during his training, allowing modern audiences to uncover the fully functioning superiority complex of Conrad. Marlow likens the fireman’s deep concentration to a “thrall of strange witchcraft”, abusing both the Congolese’s culture and intellect, controlling fireman to work endlessly in fear of the “evil spirit inside the boiler”. Through such manipulation, it is implied that the fireman has rudimentary levels of intelligence and limited , animalistic capabilities, however, the entirety of African history before European colonisation is utterly unheeded, demonstrating that the intellect of the Congolese is not primeval, rather a harshly racially stereotyped by the colonisers. It is such ignorance from Marlow that leads contemporary audiences to believe that Conrad was a “thoroughgoing racist”.
However, Conrad’s modernist novella dismantled the Western world’s perception on imperialism and colonialism, thoroughly condemning the act for its rapacious greed, ultimately Conrad undermines and infantilises the humanity of the Congolese people, rejecting their culture. Thus, Conrad’s novella only served to perpetuate xenophobic tendencies of Europeans well into the 21st century.
Post by: dilanka.sam1 on January 08, 2019, 09:54:53 pm
I don't know if this is the correct thread to ask but I was wondering if anyone has any notes (with like summaries, themes) or sample essays on 'The Hamilton Case by Michelle De Kretser' just so I can reference them throughout the course of the year! :) :)
Your help will be greatly appreciated! :D :) ;)
Please, Please, Please!
Thanks
Post by: Quinapalus on January 09, 2019, 11:15:20 am
(Heart of Darkness)
...Conrad presents Marlow as anticipating moral and spiritual enlightenment through the Biblical intertextuality which compares his journey down the river Congo with man’s prehistoric state of prelapsarian innocence: “The snake had charmed me”. Similarly, anticipation is created through the delayed synchronous appearance of Kurtz, being venerated by various European voices as a “prodigy”, and an “emissary of pity, and science, and progress”. Just as “All Europe contributed to the making of Kurtz”, the Harlequin, an image of Europe’s credulity of colonialism, becomes Kurtz’s “last disciple”; Conrad parallels the dress of the Harlequin, “bright patches” of “blue, red, and yellow”, with the map of an Africa colonised by Europe, thereby reflecting Conrad’s suggestion that Europe idolised Kurtz as the apogee of its civilisation, a writer, poet, musician, artist. Marlow himself, traumatised by his Congolese experiences, subconsciously alludes to Kurtz in the frame narrative through this religio-mythic semantic field, as the “idea” which he becomes, “something you can set up, and bow down before, and offer a sacrifice to…” Thus, for Marlow, and by extension, Europe, Kurtz’s ignominious fall represents a symbolic failure of European ideals, principles, and language, rendered “less than chaff in a breeze” in the utter alterity of the Dantean “Inferno”. The repetition of Kurtz’s primal cry “The horror! The horror!” suggests that meaningful elaboration is impossible, and in this “supreme moment of complete knowledge”, Conrad combines the allegorical nature of the prelapsarian quest for knowledge with the ultimate nihilism of the existential “wilderness” to chillingly evoke an unconquerable darkness, the ultimate darkness of man’s soul. This revelation utterly destroys Marlow’s “belief in mankind”; he is overcome by Nietzschean nihilism, expressible only by the inexpressibility of the repetitive “The horror! The horror!” Thus, the Biblical allegory of cosmogonic knowledge is shattered, with Marlow helplessly captive to the “voice” of the demonic Kurtz, believing that faith itself can only ever be “a great and saving illusion.” ...
(12th Night-Some sample sentences)
Shakespeare presents desire as a fleeting metaphysical dream, as existing in the painless insubstantiality of thought, yet, as being delusive and illusive in its attempt to seek an object which remains perpetually elusive in the abstract psychological world. Yet, through the androgynous character of Viola, these narcissistic, trivial loves of Olivia and Orsino are catalysed into an ardent attraction towards the composite figure Viola-Cesario. Shakespeare comically resolves this romantic dilemma through the heteronormative introduction of Sebastian; Olivia finds the man in Viola, and Orsino obtains the woman in Cesario.
Mellifluous music allows the characters of the low comedy to enter an atemporal trance in which the cares of the quotidian and the hierarchal strictures of society are self-therapeutically forgotten; music is the metaphysical medium through which they enter an illusionary and hedonistic dimension in which they are free to explore the alternate identities of Saturnalia, of “Twelfth Night”.
The musical solos of Feste evoke a romantic paradigm of unrequited and unfulfilled yearnings; through the medium of unaccompanied song, love remains perpetually unanswered, expressed only from the singular perspective of the singer, thereby functioning as suitable emotional stimulation for Count Orsino, wallowing in his self-absorbed, self-obsessed, and self-indulgent narcissism.
(Browning's Dramatic Monologues-Introduction, Paragraphs 2&3, Conclusion)
In order to explore the contemporary issues of religious inadequacy, the truth of our human imperfection, and the artifice covering hedonism within the social milieu of Victorian England, Browning sets many of his poems in mediaeval and Renaissance Europe. The spatio-temporal remoteness allows him to directly address such concerns without seeming didactic and moralising to his readers. Analogous to his proto-modernist views, Browning’s dramatic monologues set out to illustrate human imperfection and limitations, as he demonstrates in Two in the Campagna, where the human speaker’s attempt to express the fullness of his love is ultimately frustrated. Likewise, by listening to the A Toccata of Galuppi’s, the monologist vicariously gazes upon the hedonistic tableau of Venice, only to be confronted with the inevitability of his mortality. In addition, by enclosing the internalised, overflowing envy of the Cloister within the speaker’s own warped psychology, Browning presents the corrupted contempt of the soliloquist without imposing external judgement upon him. Thus, Browning’s authorial intent emerges from dramatic context rather than conventional diegesis, requiring his readers to complete the scene from inference and imagination, as opposed to traditional narrative exposition.
By exploiting the subjective nature of dramatic monologue, Browning is able to present multiple perspectives in Soliloquy of the Spanish Cloister, thereby demonstrating that the nature of truth and reality fluctuates, while resisting the temptation to deliver moral judgements....
While Browning characteristically celebrates love throughout his poetic oeuvre, such as in its sweetness in Confessions, he powerfully demonstrates human shortcomings in love, such as in Two in the Campagna. The frequent repetition of “such” suggests that the human lover is unable to fully represent his love adequately. Furthermore, Browning not only depicts our inability to describe God’s creations in terms of love, but also our incapacity to perfectly represent God’s world visually, as he explores in Fra Lippo Lippi. As such, at the climax of the speaker’s attempt to express his love: “And love it more than tongue can speak”, he loses it: “Then the good minute goes.” Thus, language and art are portrayed alike as intrinsically insufficient mediums in representing the lives we have been given. Yet, for Browning, this only augments their importance, in following the aesthetic aims of Lippi, the everyday resonates with enriched meaning and becomes epiphanic in its own right. Likewise, through Galuppi’s music, the listener indirectly experiences the world of Venice at carnival. Browning emulates the auditory qualities through many elements of his own prosody; the rhythmic beat of the troche mimics the emphasis of the musical downbeat, the octameter supports the length of the line as a musical phrase, and the catalexis serves as a cadential ending. Thus, the dramatic monologue metapoetically composes itself. As the reader listens to the music in the poem, Browning positions them to reflect upon music, their pleasure-seeking, and death inexorable, paralleling the Venetians listening to Galuppi’s toccatas in the episode preceding the given extract. Therefore, Browning asserts that through art, the human becomes perceptive of his own shortcomings.
By representing humanity with all its limitations and failures, Browning draws the reader’s attention to the hypocrisy of Victorian moral standards, while distancing such transgressive behaviours from his contemporary audience. The metaphor of “Wed the sea with rings” rings of the lavish wealth of the golden days of Venice, where “the merchants were the kings.” Yet, in the midst of such wealth, the imagery of “burning” serves a threefold purpose: literally as the burning torches illuminating the midnight balls, and figuratively to indicate not only the lust of the youthful Venetians, but also their inevitable deaths, paralleled not only by the death of Venice but also by the ending of the music. Therefore, by placing the line “It’s as if I saw it all” in a contemporary setting, in referencing “England”, Browning alludes to the prevalent sexual promiscuity within Victorian society, thereby positioning his reader to question their own behaviours.
Although he portrays humanity as intrinsically flawed, as illustrated in the disturbing interior journey of Soliloquy, Browning observes the world through a lens sympathetic to human imperfection. Though the reader witnesses the human lover succumbing the sensual “pluck the rose”, wealth giving way to hedonism, and spiritual devotion yielding to possessed demonic cries of “Hy, Zy, Hine”, Browning poignantly acknowledges the beauty of the truth by means of a realistic representation, in contrast to the hypocrisy of an idealised illusion.
Post by: jpride19 on September 23, 2019, 05:12:22 pm
Shakespeare’s play Othello demonstrates that society’s views and values play a substantial role in the events that unfold in the play. Discuss
Through Iago’s manipulations of societal values to his own ends, Shakespeare demonstrates the influence of preordained restrictions of a prejudiced milieu on the events of the play. In society’s valuation of some “curled darlings” as more important than other individuals, Shakespeare illustrates Iago’s motivations as the result of classist societal norms. Furthermore the treatment of the “old black ram,” along with the socially accepted “bewhor[ing]” of the women, enables Iago to engineer the events of the play. Indeed, the animalistic portrayal of Othello along with the objectification of the women as males’ possessions perpetuates a view of these individuals as intrinsically inferior to the rest of society, and further contribute to Iago’s machinations. Although the play’s events rely on Iago’s cunning exploitations, they equally depend on the social prejudices of the time.
Through the prejudiced view of “wealthy curled darlings” as inherently superior to “knee-crooking knaves,” Shakespeare exposes the impact of such classist values on individuals, as this hierarchical devaluation of Iago ultimately provokes his desire for revenge. The juxtaposition of the depiction of the “knee-crooking” (subservient) individuals as immoral and unscrupulous (“knaves”) with the fond portrayal of the “darlings” as “wealthy” (and therefore from a Venetian’s perspective; superior) and handsome reveals the inherent inequitable values held by society. In the opening scene of the play, Iago’s bitter account of Cassio’s promotion reveals the classist valuation of an educated “great mathematician” as superior to an experienced soldier to be the cause of Iago’s desire to “serve [his] turn upon” Othello. This class bias is further exposed as Iago is overlooked for promotion even with the support of “three great ones of the city” (three noblemen). In refusing to enable Iago to elevate his standing in society in the face of noblemen’s support, Othello demonstrates the extent of the bigoted class divisions of the time, and therefore in utilising this as Iago’s key motivation, Shakespeare reveals the impact of such prejudices on the events of the play.
As “the Moor” is subjected to callous and racially bigoted treatment, Shakespeare exposes the salient discrimination rampant in the early 17th century, and in turn exposes the extent to which the progression of the play is driven by radical prejudice. In the first mention of Othello as “his Moorship,” a mocking term ridiculing Othello’s position of authority, Shakespeare exposes the overwhelming derisive attitude adopted towards “the Moor” in the play-often overshadowing questions of merit and ambition. In Iago’s constant disparaging treatment of Othello based on his “clime, complexion and degree,” Shakespeare evinces Othello’s doubt of Desdemona as the result of insecurity in regards to his “begrimed and black” face. In the use of alliteration linking “begrimed’ and “black,” Shakespeare couples an image of something unclean and soiled with Othello’s race, revealing a preconceived notion of racial inferiority. This is further demonstrated through Othello’s speculation of “Haply for I am black, / And have not these soft parts of conversation,” as Shakespeare reveals a diffidence resulting from Iago’s partisan devaluation of Othello’s race. Furthermore, Shakespeare conveys that Iago’s ability to manipulate others to view Othello in a negative way is a result of society’s preconceived prejudicial views. The juxtaposition of the respect owed to Othello according to his station, with the doubt Iago and Montano display towards the general demonstrates the influence of racial bigotry on others’ views of Othello. This disrespect, elucidated in the line “I fear the trust Othello puts him in,” conveys the influence of racial prejudice on Venetian society’s perception of Othello, as well as the impact this has on the play’s events. Furthermore, in the depiction of Othello’s trance as “savage madness,” Iago renders Othello as a primordial bestial entity-in part due to his racial difference. Thus, Iago’s ability to manipulate events in the play is inextricably linked to his ability to draw on bigoted societal perceptions of race.
In the depiction of the women in the play as intrinsically inferior to the men, Shakespeare illuminates the sexist society that ultimately allows the events of the play to take place. Through Iago’s defamatory comments towards Emilia, Desdemona and Bianca, (“full of game,” “a simple bawd,” “trash”), reducing women to objects easily discarded, the institutionalised male dominance is exposed. As almost every male character is shown belittling the females, Shakespeare reveals the extent of the feminine subjugation of the society, and demonstrates how it contributes to events of the play. Particularly, the depiction of Cassio as a gentleman, followed by his treatment of Bianca as a “perfumed one” (a prostitute) conveys the habitual oppression furthered by even those seen as unbiased, thereby demonstrating the acceptance of this ingrained misogyny. Similarly, Othello’s patriarchal expectations of Desdemona to be “a most obedient lady” reveal a fundamentally flawed societal construction of equality, and the dependence of the play’s events on this expectation of female submissiveness is therefore demonstrated. In Othello’s sense of “justice” in murdering his wife without “ocular proof” of any betrayal, Shakespeare demonstrates the impact of severely flawed societal values on Iago’s ability to manipulate individuals to his own ends. Indeed, this misogynistic marginalisation of women allowing men in the play to believe themselves justified in their “sacrifice
Post by: w0lfqu33n89 on June 01, 2020, 11:41:48 am
Post by: Seta111 on July 24, 2021, 07:11:17 pm