10/31/08 One Hundred Years of Solitude

This week in class, we explored the idea of the labyrinth and how it relates to Solitude. When traversing through a labyrinth, at least in a spiritual sense, it is common to follow the maze-like passages to the center of the labyrinth, all the while in a meditative state. Once in the middle, it is usually common to spend time reflecting before leaving through the same passage. One suggestion brought up in class was that the labyrinth can be compared to the life and death of the characters in Solitude—many of the characters are born in Macondo, spend time away from Macondo, and eventually make their way back to die. While this is an astute observation, I have been thinking of the comparisons in a different way. I have found the “modernization” of Macondo to be very labyrinth-like in the way changes have come about. Throughout the novel, Macondo has gone through steady changes without really ever digressing or falling back to its roots. The turning point—or the “center” of the labyrinth—of Macondo has been its westernization and arrival of outsiders, including Fernanda del Carpio and the Conservative party. All of the steady changes in Macondo have seemed to lead up to this point, but if Solitude is to remain like a labyrinth, something needs to happen to tip the scales. If Macadno’s “advancement” is the centerpiece, what will lead us back through the passage?

10/23/08 One Hundred Years of Solitude

So much for progress. I said I wanted to write from the text-world stage. I said I felt myself growing as far as responses are concerned. I said I didn’t want to write about intertextuality or how much the text reminds me of something I already know. To hell with it, I suppose—there’s time for progress next week.

Lately I have been in a habit of linking texts with pieces of music, starting with the reading of A Wild Sheep Chase, finding literary comparisons to bebop (Murakami), zombie rock (World War Z), shoe gaze/trip hop (Mr. Vertigo), post rock (Krapp’s Last Tape), and drone( Can you guess? I’m going somewhere with this! I can only hope.)---to think, some people listen to only one genre of music!

I sprawled out on my couch Wednesday afternoon to read One Hundred Years of Solitude, and found myself playing “Even If You’re Never Awake” by Stars of the Lid on my iPod. The combination of the two art forms took me completely by surprise. There has been something about the track—and the entirety of And Their Refinement of the Decline for that matter—that fits One Hundred Years of Solitude so beautifully. I believe it was the constant death in Solitude that first drew the comparisons for me, matched with the ambiguity of both One Hundred Years of Solitude and the drone music of Stars of the Lid. As evidenced already in the readings, characters die, simply put. What I find interesting about the concept of death in this book is the naming of children. The Arcadio’s, the Aureliano’s, and the Remidios’ all serve as memorials to the deceased (or soon to be) named before them. For the most part, they are featureless: they are relatively flat characters, sharing nothing in common with their namesake except for their name. However, it seems to be a way of carrying on a legacy, ensuring the dead are not forgotten: even if you are dead, you are not dead. “Even If You’re Never Awake”, your name is never sleeping.

I thought of this as my term paper subject, but narrowing it down to ten pages seems like a daunting task. I have read all but the first 64 pages of Solitude with the guide of “Even If You’re Never Awake”, and I have found the two to sync up at any given page. Worth looking into, I suppose.

10/16/08 One Hundred Years of Solitude

If there was one literary term that encompasses all of the novels we have encountered this semester, it would undoubtedly be magical realism. Though it has been brought up briefly throughout the semester, it seems that One Hundred Years of Solitude will be the novel to best emphasize the term. What I have noticed most about Garcia Marquez is how matter-of-factly the mention of these examples of magical realism has been, yet at the same time, the reading thus far has not been littered with it to the point that One Hundred Years of Solitude begins to read like a fantasy novel. Murakami had a talent for blending the real and surreal, but A Wild Sheep Chase tended to be a surreal novel throughout, whereas One Hundred Years of Solitude seems to create a more balanced approach between the seemingly normal and magical realism. The best example that comes to mind would be Ursula and Jose Arcadio Buendia’s visions of Prudencio Aguilar’s ghost. What made the vision of his ghost more impactful than, say, Boku’s vision of The Rat was that One Hundred Years of Solitude started off relatively normal, with the exception of the surreal town in which nobody has died.

Blog Paper

I believe I have been at stage two of reading development for a fairly long duration of time heading into this semester. I have picked this up from past English and literature classes, especially when talking about postmodern concepts such as intertextuality and metafiction. I have learned not to give the “American Idol” approach to responding to a text, which I believe has forced me not only to make more concise opinions about a text, but to be more open-minded when selecting a text. I have not had very much experience with postmodern literature—only the three years or so that I have taken literature courses—but I feel that I have a confident grasp on most of the texts that I have encountered and I am able to find references to other texts and find how the text has inspired other texts. One example I keep coming back to is the influence William S. Burroughs’ cut-up technique had on Radiohead’s Kid A. I always get a kick out of how artists inspire other artists, and I think that reflects the texts I read outside of class. I think a big reason for this comes from the précis papers I wrote in Contemporary Literature. Writing about topics related to the units being covered in class allowed me to think critically about the concepts covered and how they relate to other texts I associate myself with outside of class.

I spent a lot of time reading Paul Auster over the summer, and looking back I was probably reading with a Text-Other reading mentality. One of the most relevant—and most pretentious—examples was found in Auster’s “Travels in the Scriptorium”, in which Auster indirectly writes himself into the novel, surrounded by other characters from past Auster novels. I read “Travels” twice over the summer, the first time taking notes on the characters and referring back to past Auster novels to mark each of the characters used. It became sort of a project for me, but I enjoy reading in this way.

At this point in the semester, I feel I have made strides towards the Text-World stage of reading development, but I find myself in the Text-Other stage more often than not. Looking back at my blogs, I have noticed a pattern in which I try to relate the assigned text and terms to other texts. So far, I have made mention of Shoot ‘Em Up, The Wizard of Oz, Star Wars, Paul Auster, and Thelonius Monk in my blog entries, while mentioning the writing styles of the author only twice. I have not yet commented on how the text has commented on politics or the lower class, though I have consciously tried to change my approach in writing my blogs in order to challenge myself—I haven’t really taken a Text-World approach to reading before, and I feel that constantly taking a Text-Other approach in my blogs will not only be taking the “easy way” out of doing them, but it will also limit my thinking and responses to the texts. However, one thing I am happy about is that I have been able to stay away from “I” statements in my blogs. For the most part, I have been able to refer only to the text while keeping personal opinions out of the blogs, though the informal feel of a blog entry leads to some “I” centered moments along the way. Still, I feel it is important to question the assigned text and have a greater idea of the cultural impact it carries.

It will be challenging, however, because I have not previously taken much interest in the Text-World approach to my texts. Many of the texts I read outside of the classroom are not light reads, but there are times I prefer to take them at face value just for the sake of enjoying the text as-is. I think reading a lot of Auster has put me in this rut. There are times in his novels (and we saw this with Murakami earlier in the semester) that Auster writes himself into a corner, and rather than give explanations as to how or why something happens, he leaves it to chance. He does not raise many questions, but that is what works for him.

I also think my lack of experience with non-western literature has an impact on my development. So far, the non-western literature covered in class seems to have much more pride and awareness for the author’s culture, Rushdie and Roy especially. Though I have read western literature with social/cultural/racial contexts (Frederick Douglass comes to mind), I do not think I have ever read as many texts in which the authors were so proud and passionate about their cultural surroundings. This has gotten me a bit out of my element, but as I have said, I think this is good for me as it opens me up to new reading experiences.

There is no question that striving towards a Text-Other reading development will require me to step outside my comfort zone. Relating the text to world events and cultural history has not been a strong suit of mine, but it is more than doable. I believe accomplishing this task will be as simple as opening up to trying new topics for my blog. Pointing out intertextuality and similarities between texts is fine, but I would like to try extending my blog entries further. I feel “The God of Small Things” is a great text for me to start out on because it has so many different topics available. I am hoping to write about the roles of males vs. females or the westernization that is taking place in the novel. Starting out with these easily recognizable concepts will allow me to work my way up to doing more “stage three capable” blog entries, and develop a stronger way of responding to texts in the future.

10/02/08 Arundhati Roy, "The God of Small Things"

I am having a hard time so far following along with Roy’s “The God of Small Things”. I had a similar time getting trying to get into “Haroun”. A simple as it sounds, I believe it is the names that both Rushdie and Roy use that is causing me so much trouble. A main factor for this is most likely my unfamiliarity with Indian literature. I haven’t really reached out to artists like Roy or Rushdie before, so my initial response in “Haroun” was to “Westernize” the characters—that is, associate the characters with more “familiar” names—in order to easily recognize them. I have tried to stay away from this pattern with “God of Small Things”, though it has been difficult remembering so many characters after just reading a novel in which the characters were not given proper names at all.
Moving on, I would like to comment on just how innocent Roy’s writing style is in “The God of Small Things”. As we said in class, Roy uses a poetic tone that would seem a bit over-the-top by English-speaking authors, but instead fits rather well as an author who uses English as a second language. However, I find that Roy’s use of the English language makes her sound much younger and more naïve, at times sounding as if the novel is being narrated by a child. This writing technique is best used during Estha’s rape by the Orangedrink Lemondrink Man. Already a disturbing and uncomfortable reading experience, Roy’s ability to get inside of Estha’s head to describe the scene is even more unsettling. “Estha’s hand was wet and hot and sticky. It had egg white on it.” Details just how vulnerable, confused, and scared Estha was.