Thursday, December 4, 2008

Kindred and Racial Oppression Throughout History

As a writer I tend to like books that have realistic characters and settings.  That’s why Octavia Butler’s Kindred is so appealing to me.  I find the main character, Dana, very realistic in both her actions and thoughts.  Though the novel’s plot is science fiction, it is still grounded in reality and the reader has no trouble relating to the book and its themes. 

One reason I find Dana such an appealing character is because her feelings towards Rufus are very similar to mine.  Oftentimes I find it hard to relate to characters in books as their opinions, lifestyles, and experiences are very different from mine.  Dana is not an exception to this, but I found it interesting that we share similar opinions.  Like a lot of people in our class, I hated Rufus for the obvious reasons, but I still find it hard, despite all he’s done, to truly hate him.  I think this is the same way Dana feels about him.  It was a strange mixture of pity, disgust, love, and hate.  Rufus has a lot of despicable qualities, but it’s really hard to determine if his actions are his fault or a result of the time period and his upbringing.  It’s difficult to truly hate someone when you know they were taught to behave that way and that in their society their actions are acceptable.  The definition of “normal” is conforming to a standard.  Rufus is just conforming to the standards of his time.  I think that even though she might not have said it, this is a concept Dana understands and struggles to accept throughout the novel.  Any modern day person would have a hard time accepting those standards, but that just adds to the realism of her character. 

Regarding the standards of a particular time period, Rufus’ interactions with Alice must be taken into consideration.  I think Rufus truly has genuine feelings for Alice, though his concept of love is deeply flawed, and he had never been taught how to show his feelings.  In his society there is no proper way to express love for or establish a relationship with a person of a different race.  Believing this, I find it even more difficult to despise his character, especially if I consider the time period he was raised in. Something else about Rufus that makes it hard for both Dana and I to truly hate him is the fact that for half of our experience with him, Rufus is a child.  When Rufus was a child, it was easy to see his neglect and I had more pity for him.  Even when he grew up it was hard to shake the image of him as a child.  I don’t think Dana ever really says it, but I’m sure these are some of the reasons she too finds it difficult to completely hate Rufus. 

Along with our feelings towards Rufus, Dana and I had very similar reactions to and feelings about the situation of slavery.  Last semester I took a class called Civil War and Reconstruction and we spent some time reading slave narratives and studying slave life on plantations.  Dana’s reactions to the Weylin plantation are very much the same as mine were going into my Civil War class.  Dana expressed surprise at not seeing some of the common images of a southern plantation: “I looked around for a white overseer and was surprised not to see one.  The Weylin house surprised me too when I saw it in the daylight.  It wasn’t white.  It had no columns, no porch to speak of” (Butler 67).  I also made assumptions about plantation life; I imagined that slaves worked all day in the field under the watch of a cruel slave owner who would whip them every five seconds if they didn’t do exactly as they were told.  After the class, however, I walked away with a new view of what life on a plantation could have been like.  By the end of the novel, I think that Dana also saw slavery and plantation life in a new way, though this new way is probably different from mine.

Besides the realistic and relatable protagonist, this novel appeals to me because I find it more realistic than other Civil War era movies or books. Dana mentions that the slaves on Weylin’s plantation are treated much better than she thought.  This was one of my initial reactions as well.  The fact is that most people have these horror stories about slavery stuck into their heads.  Just like I had before, most people believe slave masters were outrageously cruel and sadistic.  In reality, most slave masters were neither excessively cruel nor overwhelmingly compassionate.  The majority fell somewhere in between these two.  Generally, if the slave behaved, they were able to go about their work without constantly looking over their shoulder in fear.  However, if they ever tried to turn against their masters in any way, they would be sure to get punishment.  This is basically the Weylins in a nutshell.  As I mentioned in my blog, “[It] makes sense.  Slave and plantation owners are businessmen in the simplest sense.  You don’t want to destroy your “merchandise” (it sounds awful using that word, but I’m sure that’s how slave owners saw it), but you certainly don’t want it to destroy you.”

What I also admire about this novel is how flawlessly Butler incorporates science fiction elements into a historical novel.  I love both of these genres and enjoy writing them as well.  The fact that Butler was able to blend them so well into a well-wrought and believable novel inspires me as a writer.  In fact, before I even read this book I was working on a novel idea that was a combination of science fiction and history, and, strange enough, involved the Civil War.  As a student working towards my English and writing degree, it’s especially important for me to find novels that inspire me.  I find it impressive that despite the fact that this novel is written about a time period Butler never experienced and contains science fiction elements, it is still extremely realistic.  I think it takes great talent to accomplish that.

 

Like other Civil War works, Kindred deals with the underlying theme of oppression.  This novel stands out because the protagonist, Dana, is a modern woman who goes back to a time of slavery to face this oppression.  Though she does not necessarily have the skills other slaves have, her modern-day knowledge allows her to endure her time on the plantation.  While Dana doubtlessly faces oppression in her normal life, her trip to the early eighteen hundreds shows her how this type of racial oppression can take over.  The birth of slavery can be seen through bell hook’s statement: “…racism is oppressive not because white folks have prejudicial feelings about blacks (they could have such feelings and leave us alone) but because it is a system that promotes domination and subjugation” (hooks 15).  It is true that by acting out on these feelings, racism truly takes form.  Kindred depicts an instance in our world’s history where this racist system has worked its way into the minds of so many people and caused an unbelievable amount of damage.  The racist feelings would be bad enough, but it is the need to control the object of the prejudice that leads to the events in this novel.  Without the desire to dominate, slavery would not exist. 

Stereotypes are the first step in oppression.  During the Civil War era Africans and African Americans were presented as ignorant, savage, and inferior to whites.  Because of this, whites needed to “help” them, and to do so blacks needed to be made into slaves.  bell hooks explains how stereotypes aided whites in making blacks into slaves: “Stereotypes, however, inaccurate, are one form of representation.  Like fictions, they are created to serve as substitutions, standing in for what is real.  They are there not to tell it like it is but to invite and encourage pretense.  They are a fantasy, a projection onto the Other that makes them less threatening” (hooks 170).  Dana transports back in time to this world of stereotypes, and because of her race she is subject to a lot of prejudice.  In her interaction with a doctor, Dana is treated like she’s incompetent: “…the doctor asked his questions.  Was I sure Rufus had had a fever?  How did I know?  Had he been delirious?  Did I know what delirious meant?  Smart nigger, wasn’t I?” (Butler 137).  The doctor automatically assumes that Dana does not know anything about medicine, and when he finds out she does, he thinks it’s amusing.  In fact, Dana does not fit most of the stereotypes that the whites have set up.  She’s educated, dresses differently (like a man, most characters note), speaks with more eloquence, and is married to a white man.  The Weylins have a difficult time placing her into a category, and because of this they feel threatened by her.  Rufus admits to Dana that his father “might even be a little afraid of you” (Butler 126).  This is the way that Dana stands out as the protagonist; she is “unique” in the fact that she defines the projection of Otherness that the slave-owning society created. 

Because of their need to control the Other, whites use methods of dehumanization, such as trying to turn the slave from a person to an object.  “Black slaves...could be brutally punished for looking, for appearing to observe the white they were serving, as only a subject can observe, or see.  To be fully an object then was to lack the capacity to see or recognize reality.  These looking relations were reinforced as white cultivated the practice of denying the subjectivity of blacks (the better to dehumanize and oppress)…” (hooks 168).  As hooks mentioned, slaves were forced to act ignorant and obedient.  Awareness was power, and this they weren’t allowed to have.  In one part of the novel, Dana conforms to this idea: “After a moment, I realized Weylin was looking at me—staring hard at me…At first, I stared back.  Then I looked away, remembering that I was supposed to be a slave.  Slaves lowered their eyes respectfully.  To stare back was insolent” (Butler 66).  However, as Dana mentions later, she spends a lot of her time acting—not really living like the other slaves.  She may comply with the slave owners’ expectations, but she never fully assimilates into the culture.  What sets Dana apart from everyone else is that she manages to keep her subjectivity throughout most of the novel.  Perhaps because she is a stranger in a strange land she is even more aware than most of what is going on around her and what the people around her are doing.  Combined with her knowledge of her surroundings, Dana has an enormous sense of self.  She knows who she is and what her values are.  This is just one level of the knowledge she possesses and that gives her strength. 

Regarding knowledge, hooks wrote, “The history of slavery in the United States shows that black people regarded education…as a political necessity.  Struggle to resist white supremacy and racist attacks informed black attitudes towards education.  Without the capacity to…think critically and analytically, the…slave would remain forever bound, dependent on the will of the oppressor” (hooks 98).  Knowledge is power, especially during times of oppression.  Former slaves like Frederick Douglass have shown us that knowledge can set you free, both figuratively and literally.  Considering this, it is not surprising that slave owners would want to keep their slaves ignorant.  Without knowledge, a slave would have to depend on his owner for work and livelihood.  When Dana arrives on the Weylin plantation it is easy to see she’s more educated than the average slave.  This immediately labels her as a threat to the Weylins because an educated slave is a dangerous one.  Dana’s conversation with another slave, Nigel, sums up Weylin’s fear of an educated slave:

“You’ll get in trouble,” [Nigel] said.  “Marse Tom already don’t like you.  You talk too educated and you come from a free state.”

“Why should either of those things matter to him?  I don’t belong to him.”

The boy smiled.  “He don’t want no niggers ‘round her talking better than him, putting freedom ideas in our heads.” (74)

Dana’s knowledge is two-fold; not only does she know how to read and write (which is more than some white people knew), but she has historical knowledge as well.  She knows what’s going on in the world outside of the plantation, and she has knowledge of what will happen in the future.  Even if the Weylins were not aware than Dana knew these kinds of things, this “education” undoubtedly gives her a better understanding of her situation and a realization of the outcome.  Dana knows that someday slaves will be free, and this allows her to rise above “the will of the oppressor.” 

 

Both Kindred and Jane Yolen’s The Devil’s Arithmetic use a similar plotline to deal with the idea of oppression.  Kindred follows a black woman, Dana, who gets transported back to the early eighteen hundreds in order to save a boy who will father one of her ancestors.  Likewise, in The Devil’s Arithmetic, a twelve-year-old white Jewish girl, Hannah, is transported back to the Holocaust to save the life of her aunt.  Despite the number of years between the events of these stories, both novels deal with the theme of oppression in regards to race.  Dana faces racism against African Americans, and their enslavement by white people.  Hannah faces prejudice against those of Jewish heritage and their genocide by the Nazi regime in Germany.

In light of each other, the two novels raise a question: is one’s capability to deal with oppression based on the environment or the individual?  Despite the hardships she faces, Dana is able to maintain her sense of self and her subjectivity.  Hannah, however, slowly loses the memory of her old life in modern day New York and struggles to find herself amongst the horrors of the Holocaust.  A few reasons could explain the difference between these two young women.  Hannah is much younger than Dana and probably less likely to be aware of her surroundings and challenge her oppressors.  Concentration camps had a more rigid, dangerous atmosphere than most plantations.  Though hooks mentioned that slaves were punished for their awareness, it would have been easier for them to get away with being observant.  Slaves were part of the society of that time and thus had a purpose; the victims of the concentration camp did not.  For them, there was less room for error.  They would not be punished; they would be killed.  The Devil’s Arithmetic questions Dana’s strength as a character.  Was she an exceptionally strong individual who used her knowledge and common sense to endure and fight against a prejudiced system?  Or was it her environment and the people around her (Rufus is a notable example) that allowed her more freedom than Hannah had?  Certainly Dana had more freedom than many of the slaves of the Weylin plantation, but that could be due to the fact that Rufus favored her. As for Dana’s sense of self, she was much older than Hannah and would have had a stronger hold on her own identity, morals, and actions.  As a child, Hannah could have been more susceptible to conforming to the norm.  The two characters’ awareness of both their surroundings and selves could have been based on their environment, their own strength, or both.

 The idea of environment versus the individual that I proposed comes into play again when considering hope in the face of oppression.  Both Dana and Hannah were modern day women transported back in time, and both have knowledge about their respective time periods.  Dana knows about slavery, the Civil War, and the slaves’ situation after the war.  Hannah knows about the Nazis, concentration camps, and how many Jews die during the war.  Though they are placed in similar situations, Dana and Hannah have different perspectives.  While Hannah despairs about her situation in the camp, she uses what she knows about the future to inspire hope in her friends.  After telling them the hard truth, that six million Jews will die in concentration camps, she provides hope by saying: “In the end, in the future, there will be Jews still.  And there will be Israel, a Jewish state, where there will be a Jewish president and a Jewish senate.  And in America, Jewish movie stars” (Yolen 156).  She remembers the future and that gives her hope.  Dana, on the other hand, knows the future does not necessarily bring happiness for the slaves on the Weylin plantation, or any of the slaves during this time.  This knowledge upsets her: “Even knowing what’s going to happen doesn’t help.  I know some of those kids will live to see freedom—after they’ve slaved away their best years. But by the time freedom comes to them, it will be too late.  Maybe it’s already too late” (Butler 100).  Dana knows that far into the future slavery is abolished and blacks have freedom, but in her heart she still knows that many slaves will suffer and die before that happens.  Her knowledge of the future doesn’t so much inspire hope as it makes her face reality.  Perhaps the reason for her lack of hope is because she “never forgot we were acting;” she and Kevin were never really part of the time or the situation (Butler 98).  They were bystanders.  This allowed Dana the opportunity to be more critical and to not need hope as much as Hannah, who was fully infused in her situation at the concentration camp.  However, as with the idea of subjectivity, their reaction could depend on who they are as individuals.  Hannah is a child and more likely to base her life on wishes and hopes.  Dana as an adult would be more critical and analytical of the situation, more realistic of the outcomes.  Either way, Kindred and The Devil’s Arithmetic show that despite similar circumstances, oppression can have very different effects on people.

 

Kindred is a fascinating novel because not only does it show the reader the consequences of slavery in the past, it hints at what slavery has done to our future.  Dana’s situation at the end of the novel shows us this.  After a final encounter with Rufus, Dana loses an arm.  Butler explains this: “I couldn’t let her return to what she was, I couldn’t let her come back whole…” (Butler qtd. Crossley 267).  What Dana’s missing arm also symbolizes is that even centuries later, people are still suffering the repercussions of slavery.  The 2005 situation with Hurricane Katrina fits this exactly.

New Orleans’ position on the Gulf Coast made it a primary location for slaveholders to set up plantations.  Thanks to a high sugar demand, New Orleans became a huge slave market.  Even after slavery was abolished, “New Orleans whites aggressively furthered the notion of a distinct ‘third caste’ of people composed of free mixed-race people…[and] encouraged the color-class distinctions to maintain firm white dominance” (Lavelle, Feagin 2-3).  Over the years this kind of oppression kept non-whites from advancing themselves and many ended up poverty-stricken.  When Hurricane Katrina hit, these people did not have the resources or the support to evacuate the state, showing “race and class conditions linked to past racial oppression were major determining factors in whether people were able to evacuate” (Lavelle, Feagin 6).  The situations and oppression Dana faces in Kindred never truly went away, and are the reason that some natural disasters, such as Hurricane Katrina, have a lot more connections to economic and racial factors. 

Many of the results of Hurricane Katrina mirror events Dana experiences in the eighteen hundreds.  While on the plantation she finds out how easily slave families can be separated, not only from each other, but from their homes and their culture.  The same separation was seen during Hurricane Katrina.  “The loss of families, homes, and communities on such a large scale is reminiscent of the devastating effects that the antebellum New Orleans slave pens symbolized for African Americans” (Lavelle, Feagin 8).  Many, if not most, of the Katrina victims will never be able to put back the pieces of their old lives, and the same goes for Dana and the slaves that she meets.  The evacuation of many African Americans from their homes sets up another situation—one similar to the ethnic cleansing seen during the Holocaust.  Because of the evacuation “local, mostly white, developers will likely gain former black land at very low prices and, in doing so, rid the city of many modest income neighborhoods, and thus modest income people, for many years to come” (Lavelle, Feagin 7).  By turning those modest income houses into—most likely—condos or other expensive housing projects, the city is creating an environment that poor African Americans cannot survive in.  They will have no choice but to leave. In the same way that in the eighteen hundreds it was illegal for whites to marry blacks, this is a subtle, but effective way of keeping blacks and whites separate.     

Stereotypes established during the Civil War era have not disappeared.  The media portrayed poor African American evacuees as uneducated and criminal, and “these images mask a long history of racial oppression and, disturbingly, mirror crazed white notions of black inferiority that have proliferated since Reconstruction” (Lavelle, Feagin 9).  Centuries later, the prejudice Dana faces on the Weylin plantation are still present today.  Together it all forms a vicious circle; it was the reason why many New Orleans’ African Americans were not able to receive the resources and support they needed to survive Katrina.  The impact of the natural disaster left these people with fewer opportunities than they had originally.  Their new situation opened them up to even more persecution.

What makes Kindred such a successful novel is that it takes a situation that Americans today have never experienced—being transported back in time to the eighteen hundreds—and presents it in such a way that readers can still understand and relate to its themes and messages.  Oppression is one of the major themes found in the novel, and the effects of this oppression reverberate throughout history.

 

 

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Two Posts or One?

I suppose it’s a little early to say this, but I’m not really impressed with Veronica.  Or perhaps, I’m not impressed with the novel’s narrator, Allison.  I find nothing likeable about her and so far her actions seem either selfish or stupid (or both, I suppose).  I understand, though, that that’s possibly the point.  It’s certainly postmodern to reconstruct the character archetypes of stories.  Readers are used to the protagonist or narrator to be likeable, to fit certain expectations and character traits.  So because Allison doesn’t really fit these ideals, is she postmodern or post-postmodern?  I really don’t know; I’m still trying to get a grip on this whole post-postmodern concept.  It’s like sticking too many metas in front of a word—after a while I get a little lost.

So what else?  Is it transgressive?  Certainly, in the same way that “Secretary” focused on sexual taboos, Veronica also has its taboos.  Even in the first forty pages we’re faced with a boatload of them.  Allison has hepatitis.  It’s not often a main character in a novel has a serious illness, especially one that is usually spread via drug use.  Veronica had AIDS, another taboo illness.  There is also a lot of reference to minors engaging in sex (with much older partners), drinking, and drug use.  No doubt the rest of the book will more thoroughly explore these taboos and others.  But again, how do we categorize this kind of work?  Taboos are still taboos (obviously that’s why they’re called so) and they’re still beyond what modern society accepts.  When you write about them, isn’t that postmodernism?  So then really, what is post-postmodernism?

It’s clear I still need another class to get this whole thing straightened out.  

Thursday, November 6, 2008

WTF?! (Okay, not really.)

I’m going to be honest with you.  I’m having a hard time with Neuromancer.  I guess it’s difficult to explain.  I’ve read sci-fi books, seen enough movies, and have certainly trekked my way through a fair share of confusing novels.  But this one is different.  I read through the summary on wikipedia (amazing how things became so much clearer when someone just straightened everything out for me) and now have a better grip on what’s actually going on in the story, but I don’t really know what to say about it.  Yes, of course, it’s filled to the brim with cyberpunk aspects, but as of now we’ve gone over that so much it’s all become quite obvious and I’m not sure what else I could add.  Our discussion on how Neuromancer is like a hard-boiled detective novel was interesting, and I saw more of that as I continued reading.  One big example was when the Turing Police was questioning Case.  They take on the “good cop” and “bad cop” personas, something Case even mentions in the novel.

Okay, well this blog is more self-text than I wanted, but like I said, I’m stuck with this one.  I understand the Technoculture, cyberpunk, etc. relations, but I find myself unable to draw from other knowledge to make any new comments.  Perhaps I know less about the whole sci-fi culture than I thought.  Not surprisingly, it wasn’t a genre studied at my private Catholic grade school or high school.  But really it’s always good to find something you don’t know a lot about.  That’s how you learn.  Neuromancer is definitely an experience for me.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Writing in a World of Technology

It didn’t really hit me how much technology has affected our society until I began looking at it through a literary perspective.  As a writer myself, I have become so dependent on technology to write.  In the “Technoculture” article it states, “’Technoculture’ in literature can also describe a new proximity between the author and technology.”  I know they were describing it more in the sense of how technology appears in literature, but technology has taken over the way authors write.  The most obvious example is the writer’s main writing tool.  Yes, there’s still pen and paper, but most writers use a computer, even if it’s only for the final draft of their work (which must be typed to be even read by an agent).  The Internet has also taken the place of a library as a writer’s main source of information for research.  It’s certainly more accessible and contains more readily-available information than your local library. 

E-books are also slowly taking over.  Basically they are electronic versions of books that can be read on personal computers or hand-held devices.  A big question in the publishing industry is: will e-books take over in the future?  It’s certainly a possibility.  Every year new technology comes out and personal electronic devices are extremely popular.  E-books have their positive side—they’re eco-friendly and much easier to distribute and manufacture.  Already schools are replacing textbooks with laptops (my high school did this the year after I left).  Perhaps some day in the future we’ll no longer need books; we’ll simply hook ourselves up to programs like in The Matrix and learn that way. 

The point is that technology is slowly taking over and it’s affecting people more than they think.  It’s not just doctors and engineers who are becoming dependent on new technology, but we writers too are letting it run our lives.  Now that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it’s definitely something to be aware of.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

It's History, Yes, but at Least a Little More Accurate

Last year I was fortunate enough to enroll in an extremely fascinating and in depth class that studied the Civil War and Reconstruction.  Although our class only briefly focused on the details of slavery (we had to get through almost one hundred years worth of information in a semester) I started reading Kindred with some knowledge already of what life on a plantation was like.  What was really interesting to me was that Dana had some of the same initial reactions as I did.  In one scene, the first time Dana walks into the cookhouse, she mentions that “I was glad to see [children] there.  I’d read about kids their age being rounded up and fed from troughs like pigs” (72).  Like Dana, I was relieved that the children in this book weren't fed like animals (which would have given me another reason to despise the Weylins).  But this statement struck me because I remembered reading a slave’s account in my Civil War class, and this was the exact situation the slave described.  (There were some other accounts that related to food, but none so awful as this.  Perhaps, that’s why I remembered this one.) 

I have to admit that like Dana, I noted how much better the slaves on Weylin’s plantation were treated.  Granted, they were still slaves, and the whole idea of slavery is appalling.  Tom Weylin wasn’t a kind slave owner, but he could have been a million times worse.  But it really shouldn’t be that surprising to me.  Many of the slave narratives I read varied.  Some detailed horrible conditions, cruel owners, bad supplies, and the like.  Others described controlling, but kind masters and had generally good living conditions.  One account even mentioned that the mistress of the house would let the slave children eat at the dinner table and she taught them to read.

The thing is, it’s the horror stories that stick in our minds.  It happens even nowadays.  When we think of slavery we think of slaves being whipped every five minutes, doing backbreaking work for twenty hours a day, and having sadistic and cruel masters.  In reality (according to my Civil War professor), most masters were neither excessively cruel nor overwhelmingly nice.  The majority fell somewhere in between.  (The Weylins are a good example of this.)  And it makes sense.  Slave and plantation owners are businessmen in the simplest sense.  You don’t want to destroy your “merchandise” (it sounds awful using that word, but I’m sure that’s how slave owners saw it), but you certainly don’t want it to destroy you. 

So in reality I see much of my own preconceptions in Dana.  History is history and we can only really know what we’re told.  Kindred, in that sense, was interesting.  Yes, it’s based off our ideas of history, but it transcends them.  It presents a more factual picture of life on a plantation (at least in my opinion) compared to other works based on that time period.  But perhaps I’m wrong.  How can I know?  I haven’t been to the past. 

(And now reading over this, I’m wondering if perhaps I should have saved some of this for my term paper.  Hm.  Maybe you’ll forget I wrote this by the time you have to read my paper.)

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Redefining...Well, a Lot of Stuff

We discussed the Harriet Jacobs article somewhat in class, but I think there was more to be said about her narrative and its connection to Kindred.  One of the main points made in the article we read about Jacobs’ experience as a slave said “’true womanhood’ meant chastity and virtue,” and that “slavery makes it impossible for a black woman to live a virtuous, chaste life.”  This is certainly true of some of the characters in Butler’s novel.  In fact, one of the central issues of Kindred is Rufus’ sexual exploitation of Alice.  But within this novel Butler revises genre, especially with her character, Dana.  Dana is living in the 1970’s, right at the peak of one of the biggest feminist movements.  At this time women were transcending the idea Jacobs’ presented of women who were defined by “chastity and virtue.”  By placing Dana in the 1800’s, she is redefining Jacob’s slave narrative by presenting a black female slave who manages to maintain her virtue and chastity.  Although during the 1800’s, virtue was usually defined by a “sexual pureness,” Dana sustains other virtues (self-awareness, honesty, tolerance, and determination are just a few) that at the time weren’t usually upheld.  Combined with her education, political awareness, and sense of history, Dana is nearly the opposite of a traditional antebellum slave, the kind seen in slave narratives. 

These aspects also add up to make Dana out to be a heroic figure, albeit not necessarily the kind usually seen in science fiction and fantasy works.  Dana is your average modern woman.  In an everyday setting, the qualities Dana possesses would not necessarily be seen as anything “heroic.” However, the circumstances into which she is forced make her out to be the heroine.  In this way Butler is rewriting the classic sci-fi/fantasy novel.  (There are other aspects of this work that revise the sci-fi/fantasy genre, but that’s another story.)

There are so many ways in which Kindred redefines both the slave narrative and the science fiction and fantasy genre.  One of the effective ways, however, is through the main character, Dana.  The reader feels a certain attachment to her as the narrator of the novel, and because she is a modern woman, it makes the reader see history in a new light, one that’s perhaps easier to understand and relate to.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Blog Paper

Ever since childhood, reading has been a huge part of my life.  In school our teachers most often taught “classic” literature, that is to say, literature written at least half a century before I was born.  In grade school we were force fed The Joy Luck Club and The Pearl when all we really wanted to do was go to recess.  In high school our teachers also felt the need to expose us to all the classic literature that, as one teacher told us, “You will definitely read in college.”  (So far I have yet to read a novel in college that I read in high school.)  We sped through the usual reads—Catcher in the Rye, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Heart of Darkness—and discussed the usual topics. In grade school we were all about the “I feel,” “I think” writing, but once I hit high school we were violently dragged away from that.  Freshman year was the first time I learned about the “no I” rule in papers because (and here I quote a few of my teachers), “the reader does not care about your opinion.”  Needless to say, we quickly went away from the text-self stage. 

For my four years of high school we focused mostly on the text-text stage and a little bit on the text-world stage.  One of my classes, American literature, was especially text-text because it was a combined class with American history.  We studied texts from different historical periods and how they related to each other and movements at the time.  In another class we studied Heart of Darkness and its movie adaptation Apocalypse Now.  My senior year our teacher tried to enhance our learning by teaching us about critical lenses and interpreting texts through Marxist, feminist, and sociocultural lenses.  College has offered me more of the “classic” literature that I was used to, but I felt I was getting more out of it than I was as an eighth grader struggling through A Tale of Two Cities.  Through some of my non-literature classes I started to read more non-fiction works.  In my sociology class we took on a text-world view.  Most, if not all, of the essays and articles we read could easily be related to the society we live in today.  We often discussed the psychological, political, economic, and even religious discourses that connected to the works we read.

            Another thing that I think helped me become a stronger reader was my exposure to a wide variety of films and music.  Thanks to friends and family I’ve seen many different films that vary in language, genre, and year.  I’ve also been fortunate enough to work with a variety of Milwaukee actors, writers, and directors.  It was one of these writers that suggested I watch the old 50s Batman TV show, and this is when I first learned what camp was.  Music has also had a big impact on my life (especially in writing) and on my understanding of reading and storytelling.  Even if I was not forced to write an analysis paper on every movie I watched or song I listened to, I was adding to my internal arsenal of literary works.

I never really had a problem with studying only “classic” literature, but because that was all we read in school, I was more likely to read “contemporary” literature in my free time. Despite reading more contemporary literature on my own, I have to admit I probably did not show any advanced reading development.  Most of my personal reading rarely gets past a text-self stage because I’m reading solely for entertainment. 

When we first got this assignment I was sure that my present reading stage was somewhere between text-text and text-world.  Upon looking at my blog entries for this class, I realize that I am more text-self to text-text.  My first entries were mostly text-text due to the fact that I am still a bit conditioned to follow the “no I” rule my high school teachers instilled in me.  My second blog post was on City of Glass and how “despite not being your average detective story, Paul Auster’s City of Glass features many ‘clichés’ of detective stories.”  I went on to compare different aspects of the story, including character traits and plot details, to stereotypes and conventions from mystery novels: “Although Quinn has a passive and slightly nervous personality, as Auster, he becomes the traditional smooth-talking, self-assured detective. He is confident and levelheaded. He tracks his mark, keeps detailed notes, and even assumes different ‘disguises’ with ease, just as any other typical detective would.”  However broad the genre I compared the story to, the blog is your basic text-text analysis.

After we read Jonathan Lethem’s You Don’t Love Me Yet and wrote our mini screenplays, I started to fall back into the text-self stage.  My September 18th blog was a reflection on the screenplay writing process.  I included a lot of personal opinions on our completed work—“I’m happy with how the final draft turned out…”—and some notes on how our group worked together—“…the hardest part of writing was just coming to an agreement within our group.”  In other parts of the blog I discussed the adaptation process, comparing the original text to our version, but it was mostly in terms of what we liked and decided to keep so I think that still fits into the text-self stage.  For example, I wrote, “We also expanded on the argument between Matthew and Denise to give them each more lines.  We felt the original dialogue was missing just a bit more explanatory detail so that’s what we added.”  While a comparison to the original text, it does not have the depth that I think a text-text stage would require.  In my second and last Lethem-based blog I completely fell back into the text-self stage with comments like, “So many times I’ve read amazing books only to see them slaughtered in movie format. And this makes me think, how is that book’s author handing this? If it were me, I would be horrified.”  The rest of the blog features much of the same subjectivity.

My most recent blog on October 2nd does not fall easily into any specific stage, but probably could have if I had expanded on certain topics.  The text-self aspects are most obvious: “I must admit that Maus was one of the most interesting pieces of literature I’ve read all year.”  The first paragraph continues along those lines, detailing my interest in the book and my questions about the author’s choices.  I then go on to list four reasons I came up with for the author choosing to use animal characters instead of human characters.  The speculations are mostly at the text-text stage.  I make direct reference to other texts—“…another one that came to mind when I read it was Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O’Brien.  The story features the good and struggling mice and the dangerous and deadly cat…” I also reference events from history—“Mice are also often used in experiments which could touch on the Nazi experiments performed on Jews.”—and bring up norms of the present day: “Nowadays people have become incredibly desensitized to human death.  But what about animal deaths?  Ever notice how people can watch a whole movie of people brutally murdering other people and not even blink?  And yet the dog dies and everyone is appalled…Perhaps the reason for making the characters animals was to play into that sympathy most people have.”  Both the historical and present day references fall into the text-text category.  Perhaps if I put more detail into the ideas, for example, expanding on society’s numbness to violence in the media, then the blog could have moved into text-world territory.  I did not, however, so this blog, like most of my work so far this semester, floats in the text-self/text-text range.

Upon realization that I am not as far into the reading stages as I thought, I really want to start working at a text-world stage.  I think that something that will really help me achieve this goal is to start narrowing down my topics.  Instead of discussing many points under one topic, I can choose one point in particular and explore it on a deeper level.  My Pulp Fiction blog is a good example.  I make very brief references to the board games Life and Operation and how they relate to the overdose scene in which they are placed.  But I really don’t go the extra mile in the blog.  I could easily have gone into more detail about how this juxtaposition makes comment about our present day society, or how drugs have become “games” in modern life.  I think the reason I haven’t reached the text-world stage is because in my mind working at such a level requires more resources and analysis than I feel I can put into a one or two paragraph blog.  But perhaps this assumption is just in my mind and I need to learn how to not over-analyze my work.  Or meta-analyze.  (Are those different things?)  Regardless, it all comes down to motivation.  I know I’m capable of reading and writing at a text-world stage, I just have to push myself to work harder.