Friday, December 11, 2015

Thoughts on "Jon"

I didn't have high expectations for In Persuasion Nation but George Saunders really impressed me with "Jon." It's a bummer that we won't get to most of the stories. I feel like I'd really enjoy his other writing as well.

The dystopian setting in "Jon" was a nice surprise since all the short stories we've read so far have been realistic fiction. I like how Saunders chose to put us right in the middle of things rather than use exposition to explain the world. My interpretation of it is essentially the corporate apocalypse. Society as we know it has become overrun with marketing to the point where children are brainwashed into mindless ad slaves. It's realistic enough in that it's not inconceivable yet it's ridiculous enough to be intriguing. Despite this unnerving picture, Saunders manages to keep the story light with narrative voice.

The story is told from Randy/Jon's perspective. When I first read the story, I didn't notice the nuances of Jon's narration. We discussed in-length the countless grammatical errors he makes throughout the story. It seemed like most of the class found them humorous and amusing. Saunders (as Jon) brilliantly teeters along the line between incomprehensible and understandable and what it does is draw us more to Jon. Looking closer, I see the irony of his stagnant grasp of English despite having a job that involves a lot of writing. It's even more hilarious that he's looking back on his younger self yet he still continues to make mistakes. Or maybe, his eloquence was lost with the removal of the ever-invasive gargadisk? We did talk about a theory that he's conjured up the best recollection he can. 

I found Jon to be an extremely sympathetic character. He was sold by his mom for (drug) money, lived for years with the illusion of an artificial, idealized surrogate, and is constantly interrupted with ads streaming out of his subconscious. Of course, the other children experience similar lives so I feel bad for them as well. I almost want to say he's the most sympathetic character we've encountered this semester but then there's the argument that he's blissfully ignorant. He's happy (for the most part) and is completely unaware of how controlled he is.

What are your thoughts on "Jon"? How are you liking Saunders so far? 

Friday, November 20, 2015

Fathers in "Drown"

Let me start off by saying I really enjoyed "Drown" and it's definitely one of my favorite books so far. I thought Diaz did a great job of writing individual stories that worked really well as a collection. 

I want to talk about the fathers in "Drown." Obviously Ramón is the main one that comes to mind but Ysrael's father is also an interesting albeit underdeveloped character. Despite Ramón being significantly more present in the book, the two fathers share the parallel of leaving their families for New York.     

According to Yunior, Ysrael's father was the one to put the mask on Ysrael as he was "very sensitive about anyone taunting his oldest son." Later in "Ysrael," Ysrael mentions his father is in New York and had sent him the kite that he flew in front of Yunior and Rafa. 

Although in "Ysrael" Ysrael's father seems to care deeply about his son, "No Face" reveals a different reality. It's clear that something has happened to explain why Ysrael sleeps in the smokehouse instead of his room and leaves early in the morning every day. "Go...Before your father comes out," Ysrael's mother says and Ysrael rushes to leave knowing "what happens when his father comes out." My guess would have to be Ysrael's father has disowned/banished Ysrael from the family. Maybe he grew to see Ysrael as so many others do: a sideshow freak. I wish Diaz had expanded on Ysrael's relationship with his father in "No Face" or at the very least given us more information to draw conclusions from.  

Ramón is first mentioned in "Ysrael" as the father of Yunior and Rafa who sends "letters and an occasional shirt or pair of jeans at Christmas" from New York. Right away we can tell he has a distant relationship with his family but we don't know why or how it came to be that way. 

In "Fiesta, 1980," we're jumped to when the family is together in America. All speculation of what type of person Ramón is gone here as we see that he's almost just as terrible a husband as he is a father. Yunior frequently alludes to Ramón's physical abuse and we really get a sense of the fear he evokes in Rafa and Madai (the sister) as well. The bulk of his wrath is unquestionably directed at Yunior, who feels so terrorized that he writes a story called "'My Father the Torturer'" for a school assignment. As a husband, Ramón isn't much better. Though there are no clear signs of domestic violence, his interactions with Mami consist of either telling her to shut up or ignoring her. To add insult to injury, he maintains an affair with a Puerto Rican woman and even has the gall to bring Yunior and Rafa along on a couple of the visits. 

In "Aguantando," we're jumped back to when Ramón is still in New York. Though he's not physically present in the story, he's very much the driving force of the plot. He toys with the hearts of his wife and kids, failing to return home as promised in two of his letters. Because of his neglect, Mami is driven into a depression and Yunior pitifully fantasizes about the perfect father, an expectation that proves to be preposterous in "Fiesta, 1980."

Finally, we have "Negocios." This is by far the most in-depth look of Ramón we get and yet it still comes from the perspective of Yunior. Like others in class, I was shocked at how understanding he seems to be of his father. Despite starting a new family and all but forgetting about his old one, Yunior seems bent on portraying Ramón in a sympathetic light. What baffles me more is how he directs his anger at Nilda instead. If anything, Yunior should relate with her. After all, Ramón strung her along just as he did Yunior and his family.

What are your opinions of Ramón and Ysrael's father? 

Saturday, October 31, 2015

Final Thoughts on "Self-Help"

I thoroughly enjoyed Self-Help as it was a refreshing break from the conventional third person as well as the male-dominated perspective that we've experienced in the first three books we've read. Here are some of my thoughts on the book as a whole and as individual stories. 

Like many people in our class, I really enjoyed the second-person narrative. It was something that I hadn't experienced much before and I thought Moore used it very well. Though a lot of people said they often didn't notice the use of it, I was very aware of it. Unlike the traditional "choose your own adventure" type of story, Moore puts you in the bodies of her characters as if you're just along for the ride. I guess this makes the narrative voice less noticeable but for some reason it was unmissable to me. 

The level of detail in each story was striking. There's so much of it that Moore must be writing from personal experience. Another indication of this is the reoccurring premises of dysfunctional romantic and maternal relationships. It's safe to assume she's dealt with these issues herself.

"How to Become a Writer" is probably my favorite story from Self-Help for two reasons: it's hilarious and it's the only story not about inattentive partners or ailing mothers. One of the funniest parts of the story was the way Francie always randomly killed off her characters in every story. No matter what direction she got from her peers or teacher, she could not resist writing bizarre death stories. 
Write a short story about an elderly man and woman who accidentally shoot each other in the head, the result of an inexplicable malfunction of a shotgun which appears mysteriously in their living room one night.
Turn in a story [...] about two old people who are accidentally electrocuted when they go to turn on a badly wired desk lamp.
Write another story about a man and a woman who, in the very first paragraph, have their lower torsos accidentally blitzed away by dynamite. 
"To Fill" was my second favorite story. Though it involves both a dysfunctional marriage and mother-daughter relationship, the plot wasn't the stereotypical husband cheats & wife puts up with it cliche. You can really feel Riva's growing anxiety/insanity in the narrative voice and the theme of control/possession is incorporated very well. There's great humor in this one too. 
And then the prince took Sleeping Beauty in his arms and said: Let us be married, fair lady, and we shall live happily ever after or until the AFC championship games, whichever comes first. 
Do I grow slinky? I think of carrot sticks and ice and follow Jeffrey's lead. I am snapping my fingers, wiggling, bumping, grinding. Mom, giggles Jeffrey. That's too kinky. And later, alone, the night outside grows inky, like my thoughts, my thoughts. I am dying for a Twinkie.  
Well, Tom, Sergeant, babydollbaby. Do I get into a prone position? A provolone position? I lumber into bed like a mammoth cheese. 

Thursday, October 15, 2015

The Man Child: Jamie or Eric?

Who is the man child in "The Man Child"? We have two candidates: Jamie and Eric. Jamie fits the traditional definition of an adult male that acts and thinks immaturely while Eric is a child whose awareness of the world (or at least his world) is well beyond his age. There can only be one man child, otherwise Baldwin would've titled the story "The Man Children," right? Okay, maybe he didn't because that sounds kind of awkward. Nevertheless, there are two distinct scenes in the book where each candidate makes a strong claim as the title character.
"Ah, the lord, the master of this house arrives! And bears on his shoulders the prince, the son, and heir! My lords! Behold your humble, most properly chastised servant, desirous of your compassion, your love, and your forgiveness!" 
This is the snippet from the birthday scene where Jamie's built-up resentment toward Eric's father is painted very clearly. Eric's father has everything Jamie doesn't--land, a wife, and a child. As Eric's father's best friend, Jamie is not only constantly reminded of this but also the debt he owes Eric's father. Jamie was given money for his poor land and pretty much lives as part of Eric's family. Both Eric's father and mother push Jamie to start a life of his own (move away, remarry, etc.) yet he shrugs off the necessity like a college kid refusing to stop living off his parents. Despite owing Eric's father from becoming homeless, Jamie displays no gratitude other than empty words. Instead using this second chance at life to work at getting what Eric's father has, Jamie spends most of his time drunk and resenting him for having it.  
"Why do you hate my father?"
"I love your father."

"Jamie, you can have the land. You can have all the land." 

"I don't want the land."

"If you kill my father I can be your little boy and we can have it all!" 

"This land will belong to no one."
This is the back-and-forth between Eric and Jamie during the strangulation scene that serves as the jarring ending to the story. Eric's awareness in this situation is very striking. Not only does he immediately try to leave--sensing the danger as Jamie closes the barn door--he doesn't reduce to crying like most other 8-year-olds would. Though he's understandably panicking as Jamie's hands tighten around his throat, he doesn't give up on his life. On the surface, you could see these statements as desperation attempts to stay alive but it's really evidence that Eric knows Jamie's motives. 

I like the idea that the title can refer to both Jamie and Eric but I can't shake the sense that Baldwin purposely left it singular to allude to only one of them. What do you think? 

Sunday, October 4, 2015

Lee and Joanie's Relationship

After our discussion of "Pretty Mouth and Green My Eyes," I realized there was a lot Salinger left open to interpretation. He relies almost entirely on dialogue to give us insights on the characters so we're left to fill in ambiguities like how close Lee and Arthur are or what exactly Joanie and Lee are doing. Here's my analysis of Lee and Joanie's relationship. 

The general consensus in class seemed to be that they were having an affair. Someone suggested that Joanie could be with Lee just to escape from Arthur's drunkenness but from the opening scene we know that she and Lee are in some sort of intimate position. That combined with Lee lying to Arthur about Joanie's whereabouts makes it pretty obvious they're sleeping together and not just hanging out.

One of the big unknowns is the extent of their affair. It's hard to tell if it's deeper than just sex since Salinger includes very little interaction between them. We essentially only see them smoking cigarettes and sharing feelings of relief after successfully deceiving Lee. The only evidence that suggests that they're emotionally attached to each other is when Joanie calls Lee "darling." It's just one word yet it's a term of endearment which I think would be weird to use in a strictly sexual relationship. Still, it's not enough of an indicator that their relationship is more than a casual affair.

As for guessing how long it's been going on, there again isn't much to go off of. Arthur's depiction of Joanie as a lustful "animal" suggests that she has a history of infidelities so it wouldn't be a reach to say her affair with Lee has been going on for a while. However, his characterization of his wife is given through a series of alcohol-induced rants so it wouldn't be fair to judge Joanie solely off of Arthur's words. Salinger doesn't include Joanie's perspective so we really don't know if Arthur is just overly paranoid in his drunken state or if Joanie really is all he makes her up to be. Lee calmly handling Arthur while Joanie stays silent seems like a routine for them so it's safe to assume it's not their first time together.

The only thing I can say with certainty is that Lee and Joanie's relationship is far from black and white. 

Friday, September 18, 2015

Final Thoughts on "In Our Time"

Prior to "Hills Like White Elephants," I only knew Ernest Hemingway as the famous writer of The Old Man and the Sea so In Our Time was my first full experience of Hemingway. 

I have to admit, I didn't enjoy it very much. It felt more like a hodgepodge than a connected series of stories like The Things They Carried. I understand Hemingway's erratic ordering of the stories is representative of the disjointed limbo the world was in post-World War I, but it was often very confusing to follow along.

Hemingway's signature flat prose in and of itself wasn't an issue for me. Though it's not exciting to read, it draws attention to the action by eliminating the distraction of descriptors. The lack of captivating plot to validate it, however, was what disinterested me during most of the book.

There were three stories that I really liked: "Indian Camp," "The Battler," "My Old Man." I found these particular pieces much more compelling than the others. "Indian Camp" featured the grim but significant reality that suffering is a part of both life and death. "The Battler" was driven by the entertaining backstory of arguably the most intriguing character (Ad Francis). And of course, "My Old Man" featured a breath of fresh air in the form of an engaging, non-robotic narrator.

In Our Time has historical significance when it comes to short stories. I respect that. It just wasn't my cup of tea. How'd you like it? 

Friday, September 4, 2015

The "True" War Story

I've always felt when it comes to war stories, the most important aspect was factual truth. I thought real soldiers and veterans would be disgusted with people writing imitation experiences so I was really surprised to see that Fire and Forget is comprised of fictional stories from actual people involved in Iraq & Afghanistan. Now, as we finish up The Things They Carried, I can definitely say I was wrong.

Interspersed among the story chapters are the ones where Tim O'Brien breaks the literary fourth wall to tell us about his writing. "How To Tell a True War Story," "Notes," and "Good Form" all discuss the meaning of truth in the context of war. In "How to Tell a True War Story," O'Brien essentially states that the purpose of a war story is not to convey a message or moral but to invoke a genuine, significant feeling or emotion. In "Notes," he reveals that he took a "true" story from one of his friends and edited to fit a storyline in his book only to realize that it wasn't right. In "Good Form," we learn that O'Brien didn't actually kill anyone so "The Man I Killed" reflects on how he felt as if he had killed the soldier. He explains that there are two types of truth: story and happening. Story truth is far more important for war stories.

In short, a "true" war story is one that incorporates false factual information to give the overall story more truth. Now the question is how does the authenticity of the stories affect your impressions of them? Part of me wishes O'Brien had cut out all of his analysis and let us wonder which stories were real and which weren't while the other part is glad to get some insight and background knowledge on them. What do you think?